#i had a horrible relationship with my father and when he had a stroke i was a wreck because there were so many things that werent resolved | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

myfictionaldreams · 6 months

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Hey :) i would love to ask for a spicy Lucius Malfoy x Reader ☺️ something like Reader is a young Teacher in Hogwarts and Lucius and her are having an (very serious) affair (takes Place in the chamber of secrets).

The School Governor //Lucius Malfoy x Fem!Reader

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I've never written Lucius before, but hopefully, you'll enjoy it!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, infidelity/cheating, secret relationship, rough sex, creampie, fingering, squirting, tension, praise kink, size difference, Narcissa bashing (sorry!), kissing, fluff/angst

Words: 2.8k

my masterlist 📚

AO3 Link

“Are you sure you’re supposed to be here at this time of day, Mr Malfoy?”

The corner of the man’s lip twitched up like he was trying to smile but attempting to conceal it by remaining stoic. You were then faced with his signature sneer, those piercing grey eyes wandering over your appearance as if he was assessing whether he even wanted to waste his time. “It seems I’ve become lost on my travels around Hogwarts. Might you show me the way out?” Lucius asked with disdain thick in his voice

“Of course, Sir. Just this way”, you pointed in the direction you’d just walked from. No one even blinked an eye in either of your directions as you led him away from the grouping of students who were all on their way to bed as the night drew closer to curfew.

Your head remained forward, not once looking over your shoulder to check if he was following as you knew that he would be. You thanked Merlin for having an office so far away from students and other professors as the main offices were already lived in. You were new to the school, recently hired to assist Madam Pomfrey with Herbology, as she was too busy trying to attend to the Mandrakes.

The job may have been due to the recommendations of the man following closely behind you, his cane clicking against the stone floor and billowing close, switching the dust in whichever direction he turned.

As you both approached further towards the greenhouses and, thus, your office, there was a blossoming of heat and anticipation spreading from the centre of your chest to the tip of your toes. This was always something that your body seemed to do whenever within arms reach of the school’s governor. Moreover, he always seemed to be at the school nowadays, stating that he was there on school business, especially with the latest attacks on the students.

This is just an excuse, however, pretending to look around the school to catch the Headmaster in a scheme, but really, he would be sneaking to your classroom, office or meeting in the Forbidden Forest.

It was wrong. More than wrong. He had a wife, whom he was incredibly unhappy with, having been forced into a marriage as soon as he’d finished his time as a student at Hogwarts. All to abide by the pure blood status and traditions without any sort of say in the matter. Forced to live a life of misery, reproduce and have heirs and then die in a loveless marriage.

This was the only reason you had continued to meet with him. The ache in your heart quickly succumbs to his negative life. You knew he was manipulative, quick-tempered and had questionable ideologies on the dark arts. But when it came to Lucius Malfoy, it was as if your mind purposefully ignored these warning signs, mainly because he never discussed or acted in a horrible way around you.

You were always his peace and tranquillity, his little saviour in the dark before the world's realities came crumbling down around him. There you were, gifted with the raw, passionate, and incredibly loving man who held your hand when walking past, stroking your cheek to catch any slipped tears when it was time to say goodbye for a few more weeks.

It was a complex relationship to have and made even more so when you were now having to teach his son, Draco, who seemed to be a smaller copy of his Father, to be even more arrogant at his young age. It meant that you could give him additional help to boost his grades and, therefore, please his father, which, in turn, helped bring positivity into the secret relationship.

As you were greeted with the view of the long corridor that led to your office, your steps slowed as Lucius snapped, “Dobby. Check the area is clear for any prying eyes”.

With a flash out of the corner of your eyes, Dobby appeared and disappeared, apparating further down the corridor in multiple positions to check if the two of you were truly alone.

“The area is clear, Master”, Dobby approached before disappearing completely. You and Lucius rushed the remaining way to the office. You opened the door wide enough for him to follow through and slammed closed. As your wand waved in front of the handle, thoroughly locking the two of you in, a hand gripped your hip, turning your body so that your back met the door's wood.

A leathery gloved hand then cupped your jaw, tilting your face back so that Lucius could kiss you with as much desperation and urgency as you felt in the centre of your chest. It almost hurt with how much pressure his face was applying to yours, his warm breath fanning across the apple of your cheeks with where his nose was pressing. Your hands lifted to grab any part of him and ended up clinging onto the opening of his cloak, harshly tugging him even closer until there wasn’t a gap between your bodies.

Releasing a soft moan from your throat, this seemed to begin moving further, both gloved hands now cupping both of your cheeks in a safe cocoon as his thumbs caressed careful circles against your skin.

The coldness of the material wasn’t enough to satisfy your need for him as you dipped your head to free your mouth. “Off! I need your clothes off!”

Lucius’s baritone laugh burst across your face as he stepped back to give the two of you some room. “Such a demanding little thing, aren’t you?”

“I am when you’re wearing so many layers! Take them off!”

He chuckles at your reaction once more but finally begins to remove the cloak from his shoulders and gloves from his hands, next attempting to undo the luxurious vest jacket that he wore. The buttons running down the middle were taking too long for him to undo, so you quickly gripped either side of the best and pulled hard, surprised by your strength as the buttons began to pop off and tumble.

“Do you know how expensive this was?” he asked incredulously, but humour still danced behind his bright eyes.

“I’ll fix it at the end”, you say breathlessly, wrapping both arms around his neck and pulling him in for another heated kiss. A perfect mix of lips, teeth and tongue, all moving together, nipping, licking and sucking. Neither mouth pulled apart from the other, making the actions more frantic and chaotic with the attempts to remove more of the clothing articles. Soon, you both became frustrated by the barriers and settled for the basics.

Leaving your jumper and skirt on, you kicked off the shows, tights and underwear you’d been wearing as Lucuius kept his white shirt on but undid his leather belt to loosen his trousers and boxers until they were around his knees.

Lucius pulled back from the heated kiss first, but only so he could turn you around and push you face-first against the door. You huffed at the impact but soon were groaning in pleasure as he lifted your skirt and began to rock his dick against your folds, teasing you with gentle pressure before finding its home in your warm cunt.

“Silenco”, Lucius whispers, waving his hand as the atmosphere becomes dense as the spell renders the area soundproof. With the safety of the spell, your mouth fell open, and a barrel of dirty moans left your lips as you didn’t hold back from telling him how good it felt to be stretched by his cock once more.

Lucius dipped his height so that his forehead could rest against your cheek, breathing heavily as he thrust hard and deep. The pace was bruising to the side of your face, resting against the door, but nothing in the world would get you to stop at that moment. To be able to feel his thick length fucking hard into your pussy was something you craved every day.

As your hand reached the back of his head, gripping his silky white-blond hair, you gasped, “I’ve missed you”.

Lucuius groans as he nuzzles into your neck, biting the skin just below your ear as his arm moves around your waist, angling your hips so your arse is sticking out slightly so he can deepen the thrusts.

“I’ve missed you too, little witch. So much more than you could ever know”. Your heart could have stopped at his words, falling even more in love with him than you had before, which tightened your drenched walls even further around him. “I know you’re close. I want to feel you cum around my cock Darling, cum for me like the good witch I know you are”.

As he praises you, the arm around your waist slips beneath the front of your skirt so that he can roll your clit in circles, matching the pace of his hips. Your thighs tremble, fingers clenching his hair until it hurt, but Lucius didn’t stop until you were crying out in pleasure, cunt clamping in spasms around his length, and he, too, joined you through his own orgasm.

Lucius didn’t stop rolling his hips until you were sated and calm from cumming, and his seed had soaked as deep as he possible, caressing your cervix and then dripping out down your thighs. The two of you sighed in contentment, staying together, pushed against the wall, and just appreciating the moment you had tangled against one another.

“I didn’t expect to see you for at least another week. Have you come because of the attacks?”

“I feel as a good Govenor; my answer should be yes”, he whispered against the shell of your ear, nipping the lobe with his teeth, causing goosebumps to rise down your arms. “I can’t deny, however, that it was you that brought me here. I meant it when I said I missed you”.

Even with his softening cock still inside of you, he knew how to make your knees tremble as you blew out a long breath as you asked, “Can you please stay?”

You could feel his shoulders dropping and knew his answer before he’d even begun to speak, and sadness spread through your body, replacing the euphoric sensation. Lucius gently kissed the back of your head as he carefully eased himself away from you, “I’m sorry, my love, you know I can’t”.

Smiling to hide the upset, you turned to him, “I know. I’m sorry I always ask; I just hope that one day you’ll be able to say yes”.

His warm hands cup your cheeks delicately as you do the same for him, carefully moving some of the messy strands behind his ears. “I’m sorry”, he says earnestly.

“Could you stay for a drink at least?”

“I would never say no to a drink with you”. Lucius began to dress, looking significantly more chaotic than before but always looking crisp before leaving. All you managed to do was pick up your discarded clothes and shows, straighten your jumper and wait for him to wave his wand between your legs, cleaning up the mess he had created with a smile.

Walking further into the office, you entered through the hidden door at the back of the room leading directly into your living area. The fire sparked to life as soon as you stepped onto the roof, instantly filling the vast space with heat and an orange hue. Pouring the both of you a hefty glass of dark liquid, you both cheered the glasses together, taking a deep swig of the alcohol that burned your throat deliciously and then settled into the sofa.

You sat remarkably relaxed with him, leaving your bare legs thrown over his lip as his arm settled around your shoulders to keep you close as you watched the fire lights dancing with the flickers of the flames.

“He’s nearly top of the class, but I think he’d have a hard time trying to best both Longbottom or Granger”, you explained sometime later as Lucius asked how Draco was fairing in your class. The man scoffs, only earning him a slap to his chest, “Hey! They’re my students; stop that”. Thankfully, he held his tongue and didn’t prattle on his biased opinions on pure-bloods or traitors, which he had quickly learnt was nothing you were particularly focused on. “Could I ask about what the governors are going to do about the attacks? I don’t want them to close the school, but it feels so dangerous now that students are being attacked”.

Lucius’ arm tightens around your shoulder as his lips press against your temple. “Nothing will harm you, Darling, and I’ve told you this already: I can’t speak of the Governor meetings. We’re sworn to secrecy”.

“It’s not me I’m worried for. It’s the children. It means - aren’t you worried about Draco?”

Your head tilts back on his arm so you can look up into his effortlessly handsome face, expecting him to be worried. However, he only appeared to be as calm and in control as ever, his grey eyes dancing with yours and the bottom lip you’d tucked between your teeth.

“Not at all. He’s in the safest house with the safest blood. I have no worries for my son”. His answer confused you, but you’d just put it down to his many prejudices and superiority complex. Reach up to stroke the smooth sin of his jaw, and you can’t resist the temptation to lean closer and kiss him deeply, tasting the alcohol on his tongue that matched your own.

“What’s it like?” you ask between kisses, unable to stop yourself from asking. “At home, I mean, what’s it like? Do you have any happiness at all?”

“You know I’m not happy and never will be with her”, he answers abruptly, to look at you with a questioning gaze.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I know you hate her”. You refuse to say her name both from shame and jealousy. “Do you have anything else that brings you joy? I hate the thought of you being alone in a big house with no one to give you any positivity”.

The hand lazily resting across your calves begins to draw circles into the skin as he contemplates his answer. “Without Draco there, I have no one. Narcissa and I may eat meals together, but that’s as far as it goes. We never talk; we even sleep in separate rooms. Everything is always for show, which is why these moments with you, where I get to be with someone I genuinely love, mean the most to me”.

You shake at his words, feeling the edges of your eyes water as you cling to him with even more desperation. What's more, the hand on your calf was beginning to slowly creep up the sensitive area of your inner thigh, distracting you from continuing the conversation as your legs automatically parted, giving him more room.

“Lucius”, you pleaded, eyes following his long fingers, the thick silver ring with the ‘M’ wrapped around his thumb adding extra sensitivity with the coolness of it against your skin.

“Shh, I’ve got you, little witch. Just relax for me”, he whispered against your temple as his fingers finally reached their goal. Your head tipped onto his shoulder as your back arched. All of your thoughts were centred on the skillfully trained fingers as he explored your dampening folds, spreading them with ease to give his middle finger the path to your eagerly awaiting hole.

You were a mewling mess as he eased two fingers into your cunt, coating the digits in your juices and rocking them in and out carefully. Lucius began to move the arm around your shoulders, relaxing his hold so he could lie you down on the sofa as he leaned over you, his mouth hovering just above yours.

“Are you going to be good for me, my Darling?” he asks, his warm breath teasing you once more as your legs try to clamp his hand in place.

“Yes!” Your shout was abrasive, but only because he’d already caused you to become a pathetic mess. Lucius smiled against your lips but didn’t move to kiss you properly as he applied more pressure with his fingers and thumb and stroked your clit.

You could feel his soft hair falling around your face as he began to curl his fingers inside of you, pounding that one spot within you that had you seeing stars. You weren’t able to say a coherent word as moisture squirted from your cunt, coating his fingers and wrist as he continued the action at a hard and fast pace.

The sloshing noise was obscene to your ears as he made you squirt over your thighs, sofa and his black trousers. You weren’t even sure you’d came as everything went from 0-100 with how intense his fingers had made you feel.

When he slowed his curling digits, you were a gooey mess in his arms. A grin erupted across your face as he sighed into the cushions, leaning further into his chest as he kissed your temple, allowing you to catch your breath.

“I must go; it’s getting late. You know I love you, my little witch”.

“I love you too, Mr Malfoy”.

#lucius malfoy #lucius malfoy smut #lucius malfoy x reader #lucius malfoy one shot #harry potter smut #hp smut #mine*

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phoward89 · 1 month

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Series Masterlist

WARNING: ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is his own warning. Strabo Plinth is a horrible father. Cussing. Older man/younger woman relationship implied (not Coriolanus x Reader tho), hints to poisoning/murder

You're in the kitchen helping Ma make some cookies whenever you heard a knock at the door. “I bet it's your Coryo.” Ma knowingly smiled. “Go on, spend some time with your friend.”

“But Ma-”

“I'll be fine making the cookies by myself, now go on and answer the door.”

You just smiled at your Ma before pulling off your apron and tossing it onto the counter. Quickly, you rushed out of the kitchen and over to the front door.

But instead of being met with Coryo, you were standing face to face with some man your father's age that had a little boy by his side. You noticed that the man has on a peacekeeper’s dress uniform with a General's mark on it. So, you figured it was one of your father's friends coming over to visit.

“My Pa’s in his study.” You informed the man, stepping aside so that him and his son could enter.

“You must be Y/N.” The man said, eying you up and down as if you were an Avox on the auction block. The smarmy look in his brown eyes made your skin crawl. “Strabo’s right, you're quite a beauty.” He grinned.

You felt relieved whenever you saw Coryo in the background, walking down the hall before you could close the door. Deciding to make a quick exit, because your father's friend was making you feel uneasy, you told the general, “Nice to meet you, but I see my friend in the hallway. Gotta go, bye.”

Before the general could stop you, you rushed out of the apartment and slammed the door shut behind you.

“Coryo!” You called out, causing him to flash you a smile, as you ran over to him.

“Darling, I was just coming over to see you.” Coryo grinned, wrapping you into a hug as soon as you two came face to face.

“Can we go to yours?” You asked, looking up at him. His perfectly sculpted brow rose in a silent question, causing you to tell your platinum blonde friend, “My father has a friend of his over, some general with a little kid, and I don't want to be ogled or stuck playing babysitter.”

Pulling back slightly and tilting his head, Coryo asked, “What do you mean ogled at, pretty girl?”

“The General looked at me like I'm an Avox on the auction block whenever I answered the door. I literally rushed out the door when I spotted you to get away from him.”

Breaking your high and grabbing your hand, he said, “Come on, I'm going to have a talk with Strabo and the General about his lecherous actions towards you.”

“Coryo-” You began to protest, since you just wanted to go to his penthouse, but he wasn't having it. Coryo interrupted you with, “I'm not gonna put up with one of your father's friends staring at you like a piece of meat at the market. You're my girl; deserve respect.”

“Your girl? But I thought we just became friends?” You asked the pretty blonde boy, who you've warmed up to in the last few weeks.

“Y/N, my darling, in my quest to make you genuinely like me; to befriend you, I've fallen, dare I say, deeply in love with you.”

Actually, Coriolanus has fallen obsessed with you, but to him obsession is love. And possession is love too. He had a very screwed up view of love, whether that be from the way he was raised or from his experiences in 12, but all that matters is that be believed he's in love with you.

His love confession took you aback; off guard. You weren't expecting Coryo to be in love with you. And, frankly, you didn't know what to think about that. How to feel about it.

“Coryo…” You trailed off, speechless. You just couldn't find the right words to express how you felt, but maybe that's because you’re confused at the moment.

Pausing in his steps, also causing you to stop, Coryo took your chin between his thumb and forefinger; tilting it up so your eyes locked onto his icy ones. “Don't say anything, darling. In time, you'll come to love me.” Removing his hand from your chin, only to gently stroke your cheek bone, he smiled, “You're indifference towards has turned to an affinity for friendship; it's a start to feelings of love.”

“I believe that I'll be able to love you the more we spend time together.” You confessed, truly believing that in time you'd learn to love him. He was your brother's best friend so he couldn't be that bad. Coryo, for Sej to care about him (You also think that Sejanus harbored some feelings for Coryo, but you’ll just keep that for yourself) has to have some goodness in him. Something to make him loveable.

Plus, so since agreeing to be friend, he's been nothing, but kind and charming to you. You've even found yourself excited for his visits, to spend time with him.

Yes, in time you'll fall in love with him.

Taking your hand in his once more, he thinly smiled, “Come on, I'll tell your father that I intend to court you and I'll also make sure that his friend, that General, knows how to act properly around you.”, while leading you the remaining few yards to your front door.

“I'm going to talk with Strabo for a bit, about my intentions of courting your daughter, but I'll pop back in to properly see what you're baking, Ma.” Coriolanus smoothly told your Ma as he escorted you into the kitchen, where Ma was still hard at work baking her biscochitos (a District 2 cookie).

Ma gasped, only to beam happily. Waving Coriolanus off with her hand, clutching a home sewn bird shaped potholder, she warmly said, “Go, go on. We'll be right here waiting for you.”

Coryo pecked you on the cheek before leaving you alone with Ma.

And it only took 2.5 seconds for your Ma to rush over to you. Pulling you into a warm, motherly embrace. “Oh, I'm so happy for you, sweetheart.” She told you, pulling away from the embrace and grabbing your hands. “Coryo will be a very good match for you; he'll be a husband that you'll be able to love.”

“You really think so, Ma?” You asked, a hopeful look on your face.

Having someone court you was no small thing. It meant that marriage was a certainty; it was the desired outcome. Courting was different from dating. With dating marriage wasn't an end goal set in stone, but with courting it was.

Coryo asking your Pa for permission to court you was, more or less, him asking for your hand. You knew that all you're good for in Strabo Plinth 's eyes is match, so you always expected to be married off and young. Especially after Sejanus' death and Coryo taking his place as the Plinth heir. You just never thought that the man asking to court you would be somebody you’d like.

Honestly, you never thought in your wildest dreams that Coriolanus Snow would be the one asking for your hand; to court you. But he is and you're actually happy about it.

“Oh, I know so, Y/N.” Ma assured you with a warm smile. “The way he looks at you- oh, sweetheart, he already loves you.” Your Ma swooned.

“Ma, the cookies!” You exclaimed, smelling a hint of burning in the air.

Ma dropped your hands and rushed over to the stove, rambling about how she forgot all about the cookies- blaming her excitement over you and Coryo's good.news.as the reason for forgetting.

Coriolanus didn't bother knocking when he entered Strabo Plinth's study. What he had to say was important, he didn't have time to knock. Not when your future with him was within reach.

Strabo Plinth and General Prometheus Byzantine were sitting on the large, overstuffed tan leather chairs tucked in the corner of the study- right in front of the large bookcase. They both looked up when the door opened, assuming that it was either Mrs. Plinth or you entering to serve them some tea, like a proper woman of District 2. Seeing Coriolanus walk in unannounced took both men by surprise.

The platinum blonde never came to see Strabo unless he was summoned or it was a night for one of the scheduled family dinners. And the General, well, he recognized Coryo as the boy you slammed a door in his face for. Your little friend that appeared in the hallway, who were all too excited to see.

Your father hand assured Prometheus that you didn't have friends, that the boy you were running off to was most likely just passing by or maybe dropping something off for him; that his heir and his daughter were in no way friendly with each other. That you might be throwing yourself at the boy in some misguided hope that you'll be kept in the Plinth Munitions loop, but that Coriolanus was a very ambitious young man with big dreams; had no time for your schoolgirl crush.

“Coriolanus, is there something you need, boy?” Strabo asked, looking at the platinum blonde as he marched across the study.

“Yea.” Coriolanus nodded. Pointing at General Byzantine, he told Strabo, “I want him to stop looking at Y/N like a piece of meat at the market. He might be your friend, but I won't put up with him making her uncomfortable with his lecherous looks.”

A cocky look appeared on the General's face as he told Coriolanus, “I can look at Miss Plinth anyways I want considering she's to be my wife at the end of the month.”

Coriolanus’ icy eyes burned with anger, his blood ran hit with hate, as he turned to Strabo and barked, “You can't marry her off to him! She belongs to me, I’m supposed to court her; marry her!”

Strabo let out a dark, sarcastic chuckle and shook his head. “I see my daughter's sunk her talons into you. What'd she do, spread her legs and guilt you into a proposal as a desperate attempt to get her hands on my company?”

Your father's remark pisses off Coryo. How could your Pa think so low of you. Think that you'd seduce him like some common whore, just to get a piece of the heirship? You're not that kind of girl. You're good and kind. A bit reserved and offish until you feel safe and comfortable enough to open up. Fuck, only the gods know how hard he's worked to get you to notice him; to trust him and open up.

“Strabo, you assured me that she's a virgin. We'll have to rediscuss the bridal price if she's been ruined.” General Byzantine told his old friend, acting as if Coriolanus wasn't even in the room.

Coryo wanted to strangle that old geezer general for the way he's talking about you. That motherfucker! He's not going to marry you and he's definitely not going to lay a single fucking finger on you. Coryo won't let that happen.

You're his!

His, his, his!

“You're both fucked up, talking about my darling like she's something to be traded. My girl's not for sale.” Coriolanus angrily spat before storming out of the study.

He’s going to get you from the kitchen and bring you home with him. You're not safe here.

And you won't be safe until he gets rid of Strabo; the General too.

But don't worry, he'll get rid of them soon. Because his girl’s not an Avox to be sold at auction. No, you're the girl who smells like blueberries, the girl that stole his heart without even trying, and you deserve nothing but the best. The best just happens to be him, the boy that smells like roses, who will kill with poison to keep you safe.

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rusmii · 3 months

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⌞ઇଓ⌝ ─── 𝓭𝓮𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓭𝓮𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓵𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮 .ᐟ

when an artist from russia is hired to paint the portrait of the first daughter of [Surname], how will their relationship pan out as they start to get to know each other?

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬. painter!fyodor x fem!reader, fluff, reader is a rich girl, fyodor is a foreigner, founding father language, fyodor character exploration, renaissance au.. I think

𝐩𝐬. haihai special early valentines gift for @aureatchi <3 luv ya revrev. NOT edited/proofread. was supposed to be longer, but I got tired and cut it💔

wc: 1.4k

“From where?” A question sprung from her chest.

“From Rus’, my lady,” the butler of [Surname] answers for him. Though her outward expression told him enough, Fyodor took this initiative to smile in respect.

“Yes, sir is correct — I am indeed from Rus’. Nice to meet the fair lady of [Surname].”

In quick addition, Fyodor bows slightly as he takes your hand into his. The gentle kiss placed on top of your white laced gloves still didn't seem to sway your opinion on him, however. How unfortunate.

After acknowledging his confirmation, Fyodor is swept away by the butler as you were with the maidens of the mansion.

Outside of the mansion was absolutely breathtaking. Circling around the fountain and to the main entrance of the tea house, Fyodor admires the new freshness of warm spring flowers.

Akin to that of his homeland, the flowers here in your country serve to be much more beautiful — as beautifully breathtaking as you are.

No third party opinion can convince him otherwise, that's for sure.

But for now, Fyodor must focus on his main job at hand; to draw a portrait of you.

It wasn't a hard job, per say. No, it was very much easy if he said so himself. But what really composed the challenge was the subject of fine details.

When an artist paints, you can easily follow along the very first few blobs of wet paint — the muse being satisfied from just a few pecks of fine strokes and a little bit of color here and there to liven up the look.

But those large specks of blobs soon turn into smaller little blotches of paint that are scattered everywhere on the canvas the higher the muse is willing to pay.

A very fine example of that would be you. A very demanding lady who expects the finest of quality works to be subjected to you when you're the main attraction.

While some had something to say about your ridiculous demands, Fyodor liked to say the opposite.

Because in his eyes, what other artists lacked was the fundamentals of the person doing the art.

It wasn't just confident brush strokes or the signature style of a person's canvas.

No, it was patience.

What others lacked was what he had acquired since birth.

And to him, that was exactly why many artists weren't able to meet your expectations. Why you were so disappointed when you first saw the finished product of your portrait.

Every single pretty piece of you just wasn't you. It was of another girl sitting in your place with the more descriptive details of your face.

In short, he thinks every self-proclaimed artist in your kingdom should rot for even daring to pick up the brush.

Ugly, so ugly that it had become ridiculous. Every pass by on the street, did Fyodor run into these cheap street artists that did nothing but sketch the outline of your body and called it a day.

Every corner turned was a portrait shop in the periphery of his vision. Even then, the finished product looked absolutely hideous.

He now saw why he was desperately called upon from your maidens despite his absent leave.

If he was judgested from the displays of art this kingdom had to offer, then he could guess how horrible you were feeling when you found out that the arts were just disrespected inside the premise of this land.

“We've arrived. Please do try not to fight with each other.” Announcing the arrival of his company, Fyodor bows, and thanks the butler for escorting him. “Thank you for going out of your way to escort me here, sir.”

A smile made its way on the butler's face. ‘Seems as if he's not used to these praisments,’ Fyodor thinks before waving the butler off from sight.

Now that he was alone, he set his eyes on the double wooden door. Its gorgeous carved craft made him question why the artists just weren't up to par as other vapa professions in the area.

“Lovely for you to join me today, Dostoevsky,” the clink of your teacup very well matched your outfit. Seemed as if you were the stylish type.

Not that he minded. In fact, he very much appreciated you being the second most beautifully fitted piece he's laid his eyes on since stepping foot into this kingdom.

“Not at all, my lady,” Fyodor sips his tea, the plaid smile resting comfortably on his face. “Hm.. If I had known how polite you'd be, I'd very much have approached you with a far pleasant attitude.” Ah. Apology accepted, Miss [Surname].

“No, no. I do not condemn you for your misuse of tone towards me. I, too, would have been irritated had I known that the artists of the kingdom I was residing in were.. erm..” How should he put it without offending your nationalism pride?

“Horrid?” You finished the word for him. “Yes, horrid,” his smile grows as a response to you. A mutual smile following the lines of your face as well. Fyodor sets his cup aside, walking over to the art set, sitting next to the beautifully lined vines.

He inspects the canvas and quality paints rowed out into columns. “Do you guys usually have sets out sitting like this?” He asks.

“Just for the occasion.”

“Ah.”

For a few more seconds, Fyodor takes his time to admire the smooth wooden palette. Its edges looked as if it fit a comfortable vice and didn't retain any splinters.

He notices your eyes on him. Indirectly, the light of the teahouse mirrors his reflection.

Turning his attention back to you, Fyodor decides to muse you on your questions. “Care to chat about your questions, my lady?”

His perception almost caught you off guard. Almost.

Coughing up the air from your throat, you sit upright to fix your posture and re-cross your legs to sit in a mannered form while Fyodor sits timely across from you.

“Well, to start off…” Pausing to take a sip of your tea for dramatic effects, Fyodor waits patiently for your first question. “Why did you accept the offer to paint my portrait when you were on absence?”

Without skipping a beat, Fyodor responds with a quick that's a bit personal.

Which led to you choking up on your strings and having him lead the conversation.

Fyodor stirs his spoon inside the teacup. The sugar cube melting away from the light waved of bitterness.

The silence that was started by him now was broken by him. “How did you arrive at the teahouse so early, before me?” A simple question, but still something nonetheless.

“I had taken the short route whilst as I had him give you the scenic view the kingdom could not offer you." A somewhat apology from you on the behalf of the people. An empathic gesture that was not needed from you.

“I see…” Fyodor let out a short witted answer. His interest in this conversation dwindled as fast as the kingdom's normal artisan.

His faded expressions sent bells to your head. The commoners bore all too familiar with you.

Trying to find another topic that'll get him to stay, Fyodor abruptly stands up from his seat and stalks over to the set.

His never ending fixation.

“Get up and sit here. Bring your chair too,” he suddenly orders you — his demeanor all too serious from who you were just talking to a second ago.

“Agh. Blasphemous,” he hears you mutter your breath, but chose not to confront you on anything as you were complying with his demands.

“Sit, sit.” He ushers you into a spot under the direct sunlight where it shines the brightest.

You cross your arms, “Don't tell me what to do in my own teahouse.”

Ignoring your words, he grabs a hold of the paint brush lying in the tray. “Chin up, head straight. Posture fixed and don't move.”

Distraught with complaints, your expression sours as you zip your lips to refrain from spouting any irrationally nonsense.

“Loosen up your face,” he says, dipping the brush into the water as he picks up a nearby pencil to measure your outline.

You huff, “Why?”

His soft smile still adorned his face, “To capture your beauty in my memory.”

Memory? Dostoevsky wants to remember your beauty forever?

While thoughts skyrocket out of your head, Fyodor takes this opportunity to start sketching your aloof expression.

The graphite from his pencil marks every curve, dent, mark, and bump of your face to a t. Every color that his brush paints over color matches you perfectly.

Even if he couldn't deny your beauty, you were still a snot nosed brat who longed for praise and compliments at the end of the day.

Still, despite your huffing and puffing — he found you the prettiest when he could stare at your relaxed face.

hi first fyodor fluff fic🫣

taglist (comment on this post to be tagged in future works!): @luvan1 @bfdazai @asqmi @squigglewigglewoo @liviash @doonifox @ishqani @xxcandlelightxx

belongs to @rusmii 2024, don't steal >:((

#[ৎ୭ 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠]#hi hello #im vv tired #and sleepy #and tired #fyodor x reader #fyodor dodostoevsky x reader #fyodor x you #fyodor x y/n #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bungou stray dogs x you #bungou stray dogs x y/n

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bonefall · 3 months

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Struggling to find posts u've made in the past about Stoneclaw, but I love her sm. Definitely one of my BB Blorbos

I don't think I've ever put together a particular thingie on her, she's a beloved background character who tends to show up on her own in various places. Like when I talked about sign, before making the deafness guide!

BB!Stoneclaw is a gray-and-gold tortie, and the sister of Thrushwing. They come from one of the field guides, where it's revealed the two of them were sitting their vigil on the night that ShadowClan drove WindClan out of their home. In canon, Thrushwing is the survivor, but for BB, we all just kinda liked Stoneclaw's name more than Thrushwing's, so I decided to hit him with the Woman Beam.

On the night of the WindClan Massacre, Stoneclaw and Thrushwing were sitting vigil.

Daughters of Flytail and Eagleswoop, and grandkits of Tallstar himself. They were a promising young pair.

Before they even knew what hit them, they heard Brokenstar's yowl.

A squadron burst from the shadows, sliced Thrushwing's throat open, and smashed Stoneclaw's head to the ground

ShadowClan wasn't showing mercy, survivors were incidental. Their goal was to kill as many cats as possible.

Stoneclaw was dazed for a few seconds, going limp, but when she came to she leapt right back into the fray. She watched the rest of her family fold.

Tangleburr and her squadron went right for her father, Flytail, out of revenge for Lizardstripe, mobbing him and pulling him down

Eagleswoop just had a stroke of bad luck, failed to dodge, and was killed like prey

It was a horrific night, and what was once a large family was decimated to a couple of cats. She lost auncles, both parents, and her sister in one fell swoop.

Injured and aching, Stoneclaw said nothing as WindClan escaped the scene. The other survivors took it as a sign of great honor from the young warrior; that she had upheld her vow to the bitter end, even after losing so much.

But it lasted long after that night. The vigil has never truly 'ended' in her mind, so her vow of silence hasn't either.

Unfortunately, WindClan gets rough shake after rough shake from this point on, and she barely has a chance to heal in the constant barrage of violence and aggression. Between Nightstar's invasion, TigerClan, the BloodClan battle, the destruction of the White Hart woods, the Great Journey, and the Civil War... things only really started settling down years into her life, during Po3.

During the Civil War, Stoneclaw was actually ideologically aligned with Mudclaw, but took Onestar's side. She wanted to believe that Tallstar was lied to, but... she knew her grandfather better than anyone. Once the shock wore off, she had to face the horrible truth that he made a sudden, naiive decision.

It didn't take her long to stop regretting her choice, though. Her feelings are complicated, but her line too far is Mudclaw's willingness to attack his Clanmates.

Had she taken his side, she would have gone into battle with her future mate as a target. She doesn't think about it-- dismissing that she ever could have made such a choice.

Her internal monologue is a lot more afraid, frustrated, and exhausted than other cats would guess it is. Her actions don't match her thoughts.

She's hardworking, always trying to make her Clanmates comfortable, frets over her friends and family endlessly. Pair this with WindClan's assumption that her selective mutism is a "vow of silence," and most cats see her as an "ideal warrior." Someone kits should look up to and aspire to be.

She got into a relationship with Snapstorm waaaay too quickly; but luckily, Snapstorm is a really good mate.

After everything she'd been through, Snapstorm's cheerful, easygoing attitude was soothing and attractive. Snapstorm just had to say, "Hi Stoneclaw! Mice to see you around!" and then hand her a mouse for lunch and it was all over

Snapstorm was a BloodClan trader who joined along with Brushblaze, and one of the targets of the Civil War. She's a bit flighty and doesn't always think through everything she says, and doesn't worry about much either.

Their oldest kit is Buzzardclaw, who takes after Snapstorm a lot. So far I also gave them Crouchfoot in a later litter, but I've been thinking about giving them a bunch more.

The oldest litter was definitely accidental.

But not unwelcome. They both responded to it enthusiastically, Stoneclaw because she suddenly felt like she would have a big family again, and Snapstorm because she loves kids and just wanted to be a parent one day.

As mentioned before, they got into their mateship very quickly. They made each other happy and that's the whole reason.

Unfortunately, they would start seeing the difficulties of their personalities clashing while raising kittens. Which I just find FASCINATING which is honestly kinda why I want to throw more kits at them (not to mention how small WindClan is, padding is super appreciated)

See, Stoneclaw is dealing from serious CPTSD. Her mutism is NOT a vow. She can't speak and it's frustrating to her.

At the same time, watching the very helpful tail-signals that WindClan uses to communicate across the distant moor reminds her of battle signals, like she had to deal with during the fights with TigerClan. It's triggering, and that's ALSO stressful.

She's also lost so, so much of her family within the span of a few years, and is dealing with attachment issues as a result. Especially to that first litter, which she would be terrified of losing.

This makes an individual who can't communicate, but is desperate to. She hasn't been able to work well in groups for years, and unlike a more solitary cat like Willowclaw, this is not the result of a choice.

Snapstorm, being an outsider, is the first and only cat to not treat her behavior like... well, some kind of solemn vow to be "respected."

And that means a lot to Stoneclaw. Even if she was poetic, these are complicated feelings which would be hard to describe.

And Snapstorm is a sweetheart, but, she is putting a lot of effort into this relationship. She's not really great at focusing on one thing for too long, and a bit "forgetful" in the way that details go missing for a while until they come back later.

So sometimes an important bit of info slips her mind, or she misses a social cue and makes a joke that's a bit gruesome, or the fact that Clanmew is her second language rears up and she forgets words or translates a Townmew idiom directly and it Does Not Work.

While all this is happening, especially with the early litter, Stoneclaw is being a helicopter parent. Too worried to give her kits the freedom they need to develop, and Snapstorm is both trying to be a good parent and a good mate.

I'm fond of the idea that when Buzzardkit was very little, Stoneclaw was the Mi. But as she started to realize that her fear of losing him was hurting both of them, Snapstorm started taking over as Mi.

I think their dynamic is interesting. I like the idea of each litter ending up having a different upbringing, because of the state of their parents each time. Stone's also going to be sticking around for a very long time; definitely the last survivor of the WindClan Massacre, by many years. It's nice to think she's eventually surrounded by kits and grandkits, growing up in a better world than she did, even if it's not without its problems.

She's also going to start using Pawspeak, being one of its foundational members after developing a little friendship with SkyClan's Fallowfern. It's cathartic to her, finally feeling like there's a new context for WindClan's old tail signs, being used to communicate in a language rather than just be used for battle and hunting.

Stoneclaw is one of my personal little BB blorbos that I think about a lot. It's fun having conflicts like this going on in the background.

#BB!Stoneclaw #Holding her like a potato #I Just Think She's Neat #Better Bones AU #BB!WindClan #BB!Snapstorm

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0bviouslyem1ly · 5 months

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Hihi!! Could you do cg headcanons for Steve raglan from the new FNAF movie? n maybe a moodboard if you would like! Just pretend he's not a terrible person lolll...

it's totally ok to say no as well, some get uncomfy with this character!! i always hc him as an awesome dad :3

Okay, I get it, I know the lore, but like... He's one of my all time favorite fnaf characters. 😭

Steve Raglan/William Afton CG headcanons!

•He would call you "Darling", "Sweetheart" or "Lovely".

•He's a very chill and calm caregiver, and tries his best to keep that cool.

•Sometimes he can be a bit grumpy, and irritated, but he tries his best not to take it out on you.

•He doesn't like punishing you, or being upset at you. If you make a mess or any mistakes, he may be a bit annoyed, but he does NOT wanna yell at you, or punish you. He really loves and appreciates your company.

•He has only ever yelled at you once, and it was an accident when he was having a bad day. He forgot how vulnerable you were when you were regressed, and immediately felt horrible.

•He always surprises you with random gifts. Soft baby blankets, stuffies of your favorite animals, sometimes pacifiers, and will even take you on random surprise trips to places you like/places you wanna go!

•He orders pizza for you two once a week. (Or if you don't like pizza, though I haven't seen someone who doesn't, he'd order whatever kind of takeout you like!)

•He loves cuddling you. He's super touch starved, and needs your affection, even though he'd never admit it to anyone (besides you).

•He loves stroking your hair. He'll just hold you, look at your face and just stroke your hair. He always tells you how adorable and sweet you are, and how much you mean to him.

•He doesn't like to talk about anything that has to do with what he's done, or Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. He was terrified of ruining your relationship (Platonic or not), and he never brought it up. He's super honest with you, besides that.

•I headcanon that he loves camping, so he'd take you on a surprise camping trip! You'd make S'mores, have a barbecue for dinner, and watch the fireflies at night. The woods and the dark can be spooky sometimes, so he'll be sure to keep you close and make sure you feel safe.

•He enjoys playing pretend with you. He'll hold one of your stuffies/dolls and make silly voices for them.

•He also likes drawing and building blocks with you! I feel like he'd love making block castles with you.

•He loves carrying you. No matter what your size, as long as he can lift you, he'll carry you around everywhere.

•When he first found out about your regression, he had no idea what it was. He let you explain, and did some research on his own. He usually isn't the biggest fan of kids, but for you, he would do anything to help you.

•He'd ask you if you need a caregiver, after doing his research. When you allowed him to be your caregiver, he didn't really know how to act the first time you regressed. After a few times of caring for you, his father instincts really kicked in.

#sfw age regression #sfw caregiver #agere caregiver #fnaf agere #agere fnaf #agere cg #CG!William Afton #caregiver headcanons #sfw interaction only #sfw little blog #sfw agere #sfw regression #agere blog

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ro-is-struggling · 3 months

Note

Could I request prompt number 16 with Peter Maximoff (the X-men one), where the reader is the owner of the handcuffs. She’s kind of a nerdy tomboyish type, who’s not suspected because everyone knows she’s got net zero experience when it comes to dating. I think she’d probably have them because what if the opportunity to have sex finally arrived and she didn’t have all of the gear? What sort of fool would she look like then? Maybe not as much of a fool as… say a woman who was explaining her stock pile handcuffs to the guy she still hasn’t confessed to… If possible I’d like it smutty please!

Hi lovely! Thank you so much for participating in the celeration (and sorry it took me so long to get to your request). I had a lot of fun writing this one! I tried to make it smutty but for some reason I couldn't :( It's more funny and fluffy than smutty, but there are a few suggestive okes here and there, I hope you don't mind and that you like it anyways!!

The one with the embarrassing secret || Peter Maximoff x Reader

Summary: A mysterious pair of black handcuffs is found which leads to a search for their owner and some embarrassing confessions

Warnings: fem!reader, my attempt at humor, suggestive tones, fluff

Word count: 4500

This fic is part of my 600 followers celeration

When Charles asked you to fix up the room down the hall on the second floor you didn't think much of it. You were excited to meet the new occupant of the abandoned room and although cleaning wasn't your favorite thing to do, at least you knew you wouldn't be doing it alone. Jean, Scott and Peter were with you and you were optimistic that you could get the job done if you put in a little effort —especially if Peter dropped the jokes and used his powers to help you.

That room had been unoccupied for so long that sometimes you forgot it even existed. It was a dump where things that no one used anymore were stored, so it was a total mess. You were so overwhelmed by the amount of things there were to do that you didn't think about the fact that you also used that room as your personal junk stash a couple of times. So you set to work without thinking about the embarrassing things you had hidden there from your former roommate, certain that you had retrieved them all the moment she left school.

That was until you heard Jean let out a gasp of pure surprise, emerging from the closet with a pair of black leather handcuffs in her hand. The world around you stopped for a moment as panic spread throughout you. The blood all over your body rushed to your face, the shame evident in your expression as you realized the horrible mistake you had made. You knew you should never have bought that stupid being. You didn't need it. You didn't even have a partner! You should never have listened to that stupid magazine article. It didn't make sense, to fuel the flames of passion in a relationship you first had to get one, something you felt would never happen. Not with your shy and awkward attitude at least.

"Who do you think these belong to?" Jean's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You let out a sigh as you looked at their expression of confusion and curiosity, realizing there was no way they could know the handcuffs belonged to you. You just had to keep your cool so as not to arouse suspicion and they would eventually grow tired of the subject, wouldn't they?

"Well, I hate to be the one to say it but this is Charles' house..." Scott said and everyone winced —yourself included— at the implications of his words.

"Eww, Scott, gross!" Jean punched him in the arm to shut him up. "I don't want to think about the professor like that!"

"You asked!" The boy defended himself, stroking his arm where Jean's fist had impacted against his skin. Although he recognized that the mental image of Professor X's private life, someone he respected and loved like a father, was not a pretty one.

"Maybe these belong to Raven," she suggested as she inspected the handcuffs in her hands. You remained silent, returning to your chores as your friends talked. It was better for them to think they were Raven's than to find out they were yours. "I mean, she lived here too and she kinda looks like she'd be into this stuff."

"I don't know," Scott hesitated. Realistically they could belong to anyone, even people they didn't know. Many mutants had passed through the school for gifted youngsters and many others had sought refuge there. It wasn't exactly easy to deduce who owned such a scandalous object.

"Whose else could they be?" said Jean, though she was interrupted before she could continue her speculation.

Peter, who had remained silent playing with junk he was finding while moving a couple of boxes, interrupted his friends' conversation when an idea formed in his mind. Using his abilities, he snatched the handcuffs from Jean's hands before she could do anything to stop him. "I know who can help solve this little mystery!" he stated with a smile, dangling the handcuffs on his fingers playfully.

"Who?" you asked him, fearing that he somehow knew the handcuffs were yours. Instead of answering you he disappeared from the room for a split second and when he returned he had on a dark leather jacket and a pair of sunglasses in his hand.

"This is a case for Detective Brad Steel, FBI," he said, speaking in a deeper tone of voice than usual as he put on his sunglasses. He looked at you with an exaggeratedly dramatic look in his eyes, acting like he was on a detective show and this was the most important case of his career.

No one could contain the laughter, not even you. You were amazed at Peter's ability to come up with stupid things that made you laugh. He had a great imagination and got bored easily, a combination that was the perfect recipe for disaster 90% of the time. Oh, but that remaining 10% where things didn't go terribly wrong was usually hilarious for everyone involved. Peter was a fun guy to have around and always knew just what to do or say to make you laugh. That was one of the things you liked most about him.

"Why doesn't Brad Steel stay to clean up like he's supposed to be doing?" you said looking at him with a raised eyebrow and your arms crossed. You knew full well he was using that as an excuse so he wouldn't have to stay and tidy up. He was like a little kid who got bored easily, especially when it came to tasks like cleaning and organizing. His world moved too fast to make sense of such things. "We could really use your talents to help out with this mess, Peter."

"I'm sorry, but Brad Steel has more important things to do. His talents can't be wasted with such trivial chores when there's so many mysteries out there that need to be solved!" Peter explained in his exaggerated FBI detective voice. You opened your mouth to complain, ready to argue with him to make him stay, but he vanished from the room before any of the three of you could say anything about it.

"Let him go," Jean said, resuming her chores. "He probably would have slowed us down more than helped us anyway."

You thought you were safe. After Peter left, you all focused on cleaning and tidying up the room as quickly as you could so you could get out of there. The conversation did not return to the subject of the handcuffs, the object easily forgotten now that you no longer had it lying around. You really thought that for once the universe had sided with you, quickly releasing you from the embarrassing moment and allowing you to have a second chance. All you had to do now was wait for the buzz to die —something you didn't think would be very difficult as Peter got bored easily with everything—, and then you could retrieve the handcuffs and make them disappear forever.

However, your hopes that this disaster would die quickly were crushed when you saw Peter talking to Professor Xavier. He still had his sunglasses on, so you didn't have to be very close to them to guess what they were talking about.

"Who used to stay in that bedroom?" you heard Peter ask a very confused Charles. "Or perhaps it was always a storage room?"

"I... I don't know, I don't remember." The professor muttered, looking at the boy with a frown. "Why the sudden interest in the room? How is any of it relevant to cleaning and organizing?"

"It's not, he's just joking!" You intervened in the conversation before Peter said something stupid. "We were bored while we cleaned up and we started a game, but it's all done now so the new guy can move in!"

You didn't give Charles time to answer you, you just gave him a smile and pushed Peter away from him. "What are you doing?" you asked him in a whispered shout. You couldn't believe he had dared to go up to the professor to ask him questions about the room. You had to stop his stupid game before things blew up in your face.

"I'm working the case," he said as if it were obvious, shrugging his shoulders.

"He can't know about this!"

"I wasn't going to tell him! I was just asking around to see what he could remember." Peter defended himself, throwing his hands up in the air at your accusing look.

"No, you were avoiding work just like you always do." You complained, crossing your arms over your chest. "Besides, do you really think he wouldn't figure it out? He's a mind reader!"

Peter rolled his eyes, annoyed at your persistence. He didn't understand why you seemed so concerned about the matter. It wasn't like you knew who owned the handcuffs, so why did you seem so concerned that Charles wouldn't find out. Unless... you were hiding something.

It didn't make sense in Peter's mind that you were the owner of the handcuffs. You weren't the kind of person anyone pictured when thinking of someone who used those kinds of sex toys. You were too innocent and indifferent to the world of love and sex for that. In fact, Peter wasn't even sure you had any experience with it. But that didn't mean you were completely ignorant of the subject. Maybe you knew who the real owner was. Maybe it was a friend you were trying to cover for. Maybe he knew the owner himself and didn't know it.

That idea piqued Peter's curiosity and unfortunately for you, that meant he wouldn't let go until he got to the bottom of it.

"Why do you care so much about people finding out about it?"

His question threw you off as you didn't expect him to pick up on your discomfort so quickly. Your brain froze for a moment, your mouth hanging open as it struggled to come up with a good lie that would get you out from under the spotlight. However, when you saw the look in his eyes you knew it was too late.

"I-I don't care." You lied, shrugging your shoulders in a desperate attempt to look relaxed. "I just think it's dumb and it could be embarrassing for whoever owns these to have the whole school spreading rumors about it." Peter squinted at you, inspecting your expression for signs that would confirm his suspicions.

"I think you're lying." He said after a few seconds of silence. "I think you know something about this whole thing and you don't want to tell me."

"I do not!" You exclaimed in a high-pitched tone that immediately gave you away.

"Are you sure about that? Because my detective instincts are telling me otherwise." He teased you, looking at you with an amused smile plastered on his face.

"Well, your detective instincts suck then cause I don't know anything." You were starting to get nervous, speaking at a rapid pace and in a high-pitched tone that was unusual for you. Peter knew you well enough to know when you were lying, but even if he didn't, it was pretty obvious.

"Why are you so nervous then?" he stepped closer to you, invading your personal space with his presence. His eyes never left yours, staring at you with a paralyzing intensity. It was hard to focus when he was so close to you. It was like he knew the effect he had on you and was using it to his advantage. Your poor brain that was already having trouble functioning properly lost all hope of recovering. You needed to get out of there, get away from him before you ended up saying something you would regret.

"You're making me nervous with your stare!" You said without thinking about how he might interpret that phrase.

"I make you nervous?" Peter repeated, looking at you with an arched eyebrow. You felt the blood in your entire body travel to your face from embarrassment at his implication. He was right to assume that, but it wasn't what you had meant.

"Not like that!" you were quick to correct. "I mean you make me nervous with youe accusatory looks."

"Why? Are you hiding something?"

"No! You know what? Forget it! Do whatever you want, I don't care." You did care, you cared a lot, but you knew that this conversation with Peter would get you nowhere. He seemed more interested in teasing you than anything else and you were dangerously close to saying something stupid, so you decided it would be best to walk away. You headed back to your room, climbing the stairs to the second floor as fast as you could. However, when you reached the last door in the corridor you discovered that Peter was waiting for you there, leaning against the wood.

"You can't escape from me, you know that, right?" he said arrogantly, giving you a cheeky grin.

"Ugh, I hate when you do that!"

"No you don't."

No, you didn't. But you still rolled your eyes, faking annoyance.

"Go away, I need to do stuff."

"What stuff?"

"It's none of your business. Let me pass."

"Not until you tell me what you know."

You let out a frustrated sigh at his persistence. It was clear that Peter wasn't going to drop the subject anytime soon and you weren't sure how much longer you could put up with his questions. He was going to learn the truth eventually, of that you were sure. His curiosity and persistence would not allow him to drop the subject. It was a matter of how and when he would find out what was at stake.

And then it occurred to you that maybe if you told him the truth, if you controlled the way he found out everything, it would be less embarrassing for you. You knew that if you told him and asked him to drop the subject he would because you were friends and Peter wasn't a complete jerk. He would playfully tease you from time to time, sure, but he wouldn't seek to really hurt you.

"If I tell you, will you let it go?"

Peter's eyes lit up at your words, like those of a child getting his way. "I pinky promise!" he nodded, raising his hand and stretching out his pinky finger for you to shake. You shook your head, unable to believe what you were about to do, but shook his finger, sealing the promise.

You pushed Peter into your room, closing the door behind you to make sure no one heard you. The last thing you wanted was for the rumor to spread around the school, that was a kind of humiliation you weren't prepared to face. He watched you intently as you paced around the room, waiting for you to speak. It was clear you were having trouble finding the right words —or the courage to utter them— which made Peter even more confused. Why was this subject affecting you so much?

"Spill it out already!" Peter exclaimed when he couldn't stand the silence any longer. His voice brought you back to reality, stopping you on your feet as your eyes locked on him. There was no easy or non embarrassing way to say what you had to say, and you knew that dragging it out would only make everything worse. Just like removing a band-aid, sometimes it was better to be quick and precise to get things over with as quickly as possible. So you took a deep breath and blurted out your excuses as fast as you could, barely breathing between words as you tried to explain your reasoning to a very confused Peter.

"You have to understand it was an impulse buy, I don't even know why I did it... in fact I was going to throw them away, but I forgot where I put them and I-"

"Wow, wow, wow, slow down a minute!" Peter interrupted you, surprise written all over his face. "Are you saying these are yours?" You felt the blood travel to your face once again, igniting your skin from the embarrassment you felt under Peter's curious gaze. You didn't trust your voice to answer him, so you just nodded your head slightly, wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole so you wouldn't have to face him anymore.

"How? I mean, no offense, but you don't seem like the kind of girl who would even know about these, let alone own a pair."

"Cause I'm not!" you said honestly, trying to defend what little was left of your dignity. "I haven't even had-" You stopped abruptly before finishing the sentence, realizing that confessing to the guy you liked that you were a virgin was as embarrassing as admitting that you had bought a pair of handcuffs for no apparent reason.

"You've never had sex?" He asked you after a few seconds of silence. Your gaze dropped to the floor, too embarrassed to look at him as you shook your head. If he didn't think you were pathetic before, you were sure he did now. "Then why did you buy these?"

You shrugged, unsure how to answer. Honestly you didn't even know why you did it, you just blindly followed the advice of a women's magazine —a mistake you weren't going to make again. "I don't know... I thought I might need them. There's this guy I like and I've been building up the courage to ask him out and I was scared he might think I'm lame or something if I don't have all this stuff."

Peter could tell that all this was a sensitive subject for you, so he tried to be as serious and understanding as possible. He approached you, taking a few steps until he could touch your face with his hand. He lifted your chin carefully, forcing you to look at him as he spoke. "You're not lame for not having experience in this stuff." He said in a soft voice. "And if anyone ever makes you feel that way then they're a dick and don't deserve your attention."

Hearing Peter say that put a smile on your face. His reassurance made you feel a little less pathetic, it wasn't enough to repair your bruised ego, but it did make you feel better to know that he didn't see you as a loser. You knew everyone else did, even if they didn't say it to your face. You were the weird girl who didn't fit in and had never been on a date. How could you when you acted like that? No guy would find you attractive! You weren't very feminine, always opting to hide in baggy clothes. You also didn't pay as much attention to your appearance as other girls your age seemed to do, and you weren't even interested in the world of dating and romance. It all seemed so complicated to you that just thinking about it overwhelmed you, so you were pretty sure you would die alone.

"So, who is it?" Peter's voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Who's the guy that you like, the one that you bought these for?" Peter twirled the handcuffs in his fingers, fiddling with them as he gave you an amused smile. He was back to his usual goofy self, trying to lighten the mood with his jokes.

"It doesn't matter!" you were quick to say, trying hard to control your imagination and not let it picture Peter doing something more than teasing you with the handcuffs in his hand.

"That makes me think that it does matter," he remarked with amusement. "C'mon, who is it? I wanna know, please tell me." Peter spoke, stretching every syllable to the point that it was annoying —just like a child who wants to convince an adult to listen to them. He always did that and you usually found it amusing and adorable, but this time it was different because you just couldn't give in to his demands.

"That wasn't part of our deal."

"Yeah, cause I didn't know there was a special someone. Tell me who it is! I deserve to know."

"No you don't!"

"You're right, but I want to know so tell me, pleaseee."

"No!"

"Is it someone I know?" You tried to control your expressions, to remain serious so as not to expose your feelings, but it was pointless. Somehow he knew, you saw it in his eyes and in the smirk he was giving you.

"No. Actually, you don't know him." You lied, struggling to control your micro-expressions. You spoke casually, faking disinterest to see if it would get him off your back. But you sounded too casual, too disinterested, and Peter knew you were lying.

"I do know him!" he gasped at the realization. "Who is it? Is it Scott? You know he's in love with Jean, right?"

"It's not Scott!"

"Then who? Kurt?" Peter made a funny face, finding the image that had formed in his head of you and Kurt together weird. You were friends, but he didn't picture you as anything more. You weren't compatible. Even though you were both innocent, your personality was too intense for him. That would never work.

"No, ew, he's my friend!" It was your turn to cringe this time. "He's nice, but I don't like him like that. He's not my type."

"And who is your type?"

You fell silent, admiring Peter's warm eyes.

'You are my type,' you thought, feeling your heart race under his intense gaze. He was the one guy you wanted to see you in a special way, the one you sighed for when he passed you by. He owned your heart, but you couldn't tell him. Especially not now after he found out one of your most embarrassing secrets.

"It's none of your business." You said simply after a few seconds of silence, turning your back to him to escape the vigilance of his beautiful eyes.

But Peter could tell something was wrong, his instincts giving him an answer to the questions you refused to answer. It was the sparkle in your eyes and the strange tension in the air that gave him the hint. You looked at him as if you wanted to tell him something, as if you were biting your tongue to keep your heart from leading you to make a mistake. He couldn't think of a single reason why you'd try so hard to keep your mouth shut, unless....

"Is it me?" Peter asked you, appearing in front of you in a flash. His sudden movements would have surprised you if it weren't for the fact that you were used to being around him already. Being friends with Peter came with his weird behaviors and silly jokes. No, what surprised you were his words. How had he noticed? Were you so obvious?

You didn't know how to answer so you didn't say anything, you just looked at him, letting your eyes speak for you. You couldn't have formed a coherent sentence even if you wanted to, you were too mortified to do so. Your brain was spending all its resources preparing you for the worst, screaming at you not to cry the moment Peter rejected you. You knew he would try to be nice about it —there wasn't a single ounce of malice in that boy's heart—, but it would still hurt, and the last thing you needed at that moment was to humiliate yourself any further.

However, the rejection never came. Not even a look of awkwardness on his part. He only moved closer to you, invading your personal space as he reached out to caress your cheek.

"I need to hear you say it." He spoke, his voice almost a deep whisper. It took you a few seconds to process his words, brow furrowing in confusion at the gentleness of his touch. You were expecting to be rejected, even mocked for the stupid secret Peter had just discovered about you. But instead he looked at you with a special shine in his eyes, admiring you as if you were the only thing that mattered to him at that moment. That threw you off, your brain too stunned to stop your lips before uttering the most sincere response you could at that moment.

"it has always been you."

There wasn't much more you could say because Peter's lips silenced you as they crashed against yours in the most anticipated kiss of your life. You didn't have much experience in the area, but you knew that was the best kiss you'd ever had so far. Butterflies flew in your stomach and colorful fireworks exploded behind your eyes as you let him guide you, taking control of the kiss. His lips tasted sweet, like candy, something that didn't help you want to pull away from him. But eventually your lungs betrayed you, forcing you to break the kiss so you could breathe.

"I'm flattered you bought these thinking of me," Peter spoke, twirling the handcuffs in his fingers. He had a mischievous smile plastered on his lips, but there wasn't a trace of malice in his eyes. He wasn't trying to mock you, he was just trying to make you feel good about yourself. "But we don't need to use them. We can take things slow, go at your pace."

You appreciated his thoughtfulness. It was a sensitive subject and Peter wasn't precisely known for being the most serious person. But he was really going out of his way to make you feel comfortable, from the gentleness in his eyes to the calmness in his voice. He wanted to be counted as much as you wanted to be with him, and he was going to do everything he could to make his work.

"I'd like that." you smiled at him and he gave you a quick kiss on the lips as a way of sealing your commitment to each other.

"But I'm keeping these! You never know when they might come in handy." Peter put the handcuffs in his pocket, giving you a suggestive wink that did nothing but earn him a slap on the shoulder from you.

"Gross!" you grumbled, though you ended up laughing at the exaggerated scowl Peter gave you.

"Excuse me? I wasn't the one that brought them. You're the gross one for putting weird ideas in my head. I was actually as pure as a dove before you presented me with such a filthy object!"

"I'm already regretting this." you said, rolling your eyes. But Peter didn't care, he knew you weren't serious. He knew you well enough to know when you were joking and when you were really upset with him. He could always tell in your eyes, something changed in them when he crossed a line. He didn't know how to describe it, but it was obvious when it happened, so he always knew when to stop joking.

And at that moment, despite your crossed arms and your look of annoyance, he could see nothing but love in your eyes.

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x fem reader #peter maximoff fluff #peter maximoff x female reader #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver x fem reader #ro's 600 followers celebration

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dokoni-mo · 1 year

Text

Crave: Part Five || William Afton x GN! Reader

summary: saving face can be hard.

mild NSFW

word count: 5419

warnings: age-gap relationship (reader is 20 william is pushing 40), allusions to mental illness, willy is obsessive, possessive too, and a little creepy, and a hypocrite, and narcissistic lol, and a little bit of a yandere, or at least becoming one, mentions of divorce, dysfunctional parent-child relationships, secret relationships, swearing, gaslighting, manipulation tactics, dom/sub undertones if you squint, willy is VERY egotistical, allusions to corruption kink, sir kink, sensual touching, dirty fantasies, praise, Michael is in this, breif violence, heated arguing

minors dni// please read warnings!!

part one // part two // part three // part four

a/n: willy is so fun to write he is horrible but it is FUN,, taglist open! Enjoy! (disclaimer: i do not condone this type of relationship irl, this is just my take on being with Willy)

~~~

Aside from the moments that he was close to you, William never felt like he was able to be alone with his own thoughts. Unless, he was in his basement workshop, surrounded by his own creations where that brat Michael couldn't bother him.

That's honestly why he spent so much time down there, when he wasn't on-the-clock at his diner. If Michael didn't catch him in another screaming-match, William was almost always tinkering away in his little sanctuary from the outside world. He had built everything in that cellar himself. Every robot, every trinket, and even the entire basement itself from the ground up. When he first moved into this house, he knew his family would annoy him. He wasn't fond of having that bitch nag him all the time while three snot-nosed brats ran around his feet. He knew he needed a place to escape to, to cool down before things escalated.

It was a place to collect his thoughts in a healthy manner. And now, it had a different purpose. It was a place where he could think of you.

Michael was annoying as shit. He had been all his life, but he was especially annoying that afternoon. He had told his father that he'd be back home Monday morning, not Monday evening. That threw off all of William's plans; made him miss out on valuable time with his precious bunny. With you. All because of Michael and his inability to have any sort of cognitive thought.

If William had known that his son would be home late, he would've had you stay for a while longer. Convince you to skip your classes and spend them in his arms. But, no. As soon as the sun shone through his windows that morning, William had to get you out of bed and out the door with one last kiss goodbye out of fear that his idiot son would catch the two of you. And oh how it hurt him. The ache in his chest still hadn't gone away from earlier. He could still feel your touch on his shoulders and arms, and the way your waist and hips felt on his hands. It hurt so fucking much watching you go, knowing it'd be five whole days before he got to see his bunny again. When he kissed you goodbye, he knew he lingered a bit longer than he should've; held you for longer, too. You had caught it. Teased him for it with a smile so adorably.

Oh, bunny. Your smile. That's what kept William going. That's what kept him willing to keep these charades of good father, good businessman going. Was to make sure you had a happy life. That he could give you all your little heart desired. Money. A nice house. A nice car. Clothes. Gifts. Him.

It was more bearable now that you were his, yes. But it was still painfully boring without you by his side. There to kiss him and cuddle up close to him, looking at him with those big, gorgeous eyes. Tell him all sorts of gossip and stories around your campus. Listen to his own while he held you tight, stroking your hair and feeling your warm little body close to him.

God. He fucking missed you. It hadn't even been twelve hours since you were last there in his arms, and his body and heart already ached for your presence again. He yearned for your touch; to feel your soft, smooth skin against his. He wanted your lips against his own. He wanted to hear you laugh at his jokes. He wanted to feel your hair between his fingers. He wanted to squeeze those delectable thighs. Kiss your neck and leave his mark on you. Hear your little moans and how you cried out his name so pretty...

William sighed as he reached the bottom of the staircase to the cellar, greeted with the familiar expanse of his workshop. He took the papers that he carried down there and plopped them on a corner of his workbench, not caring to do any more work at the moment. The older man pulled up his chair and sat, running his fingers through his grey-and-brown hair.

Why. Why was fate so cruel? He only wanted his bunny with him. Was that too much to bloody ask for? Fuck he missed you so much. It was gonna be hell waiting until the weekend again.

He needed to take his mind off of it. Sitting around and moping was just gonna make it worse. He knew you wouldn't want him to be miserable. You loved him. He knew that if you could, you'd be here in the basement with him, sitting on his lap and giving him kisses. Telling him it was all gonna be okay while your plush thighs and butt were pressed against him.

William felt one of his hands detangle from his hair, sliding down on top of his clothed crotch.

His sweet bunny. His adorable (Y/N). He loved you so so much. Your kisses felt so good on his skin; so warm and soft. Just like you were. You were so perfect for him, bunny. You always knew exactly what he needed. Sitting on his lap so pretty for him. Don't his hands feel so good on your waist? So big and strong, a feeling only his hands give you, yeah? His hands are the only ones allowed to touch you, bunny. Did you understand that? You were his, and only he was allowed to play with you like this. Come on now, don't be shy. Lay back on William's workbench for him. Silly little one, don't be afraid to knock things off. Sir will allow it to happen. He wants you now, those silly little tools can fall all they like. That's it, there you go. Good bunny. So perfect for sir. Let's get those clothes off you now, yeah? They're just in the way of what he wants. He'll do it for you, bunny. Strip you down just for him. Just relax and be good. Ah fuck. His precious (Y/N). He misses you so fucking much, little one. Be a good bunny and-

William's fantasy was interrupted by the sound of the basement door flying open from the top of the stairs, making him jump from the sudden noise. The brit adjusted himself in his pants and smoothed back his hair as he looked over his shoulder with a glare, seeing who the rude intruder was.

William felt his brow furrow even deeper

Fucking hell. Michael. Of fucking course.

That boy just didn't know when to quit, didn't he? Stupid fucking idiot. Mike was not going to win that damn argument. He's such a fucking hypocrite. Accusing William of starting shit, and then goes off and starts shit himself.

His son was just like that bitch of an ex-wife he had. No wonder he fucking hated his son just as much as he did her. Perhaps even more.

"What do you want? I'm working-" William tried to say to scare his son off, but was rudely interrupted. As Michael stomped down to the bottom of the stairs with a sneer, the young man threw some sort of cloth at his father's face. William tried to block it away, but wound up catching the offending garment instead.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" Michael shouted at William, louder than the brit ever heard before. William was a bit taken aback by the sudden hostility, swiveling on his chair to face his son more directly with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't know wha-"

"DONT fucking play dumb with me, you DEMENTED fuck!" Michael yelled again, the young man's freckled cheeks beet-red, "What the fuck did you do to them?!"

William's look of confusion grew as he looked at his son. William genuinely didn't know what made him so angry. Looking down to the cloth in his hands, however, the pieces suddenly fell into place.

Michael found your jacket. He found it. And William thought he did a good job of hiding it too. The brit knew he probably shouldn't have kept it. It was yours, after all. And judging by the amount of wear-and-tear the jacket had, you were rather fond of it. Maybe it was wrong to take it.

Maybe.

But William found it hard to care if it was wrong or not. He loved you bunny. He loved you so so dearly. Without you, William wasn't himself. He had to pretend when you weren't with him. He didn't feel normal without you in his arms. When you left that morning, he knew he would miss you so much. He'd miss feeling whole, and having you close with him. And you loved him, right? You wanted him to feel good just like how he made you feel good, right? Of course you would. You wouldn't mind.

He just had to keep something of you close to him. Something that reminded him of you, that could act as his fix of you until you were in his arms again. He needed to take your jacket. How could he not? It would be perfect. It smelled exactly like you. It was about the size of your torso, too. It wouldn't give the real thing justice, but holding it at night might be some sort of reprieve for the older man. It could keep his bed warm when you couldn't. It was just a little reminder to him that you were his now. Your jacket was a way to prove it when you weren't around, along with those hickeys he gave you the other day.

And is that so bad? Wanting something to remind him of you? When he gave you something of your own to have?

He didn't think so. And he knew you wouldn't mind, either. You were a good bunny for him. You knew how he thought and operated. Just like he knew how you thought and operated. The two of you were soulmates.

So surely you'd forgive him for keeping a little memento of you.

But, of course, Michael had to ruin it all. William thought the dryer would be the perfect place to keep your jacket so that it didn't lose your smell. And now it was out. It was losing everything William was trying to preserve. And Mike was throwing it around like it was nothing. Like it was just a jacket. Like it wasn't yours.

William couldn't help but let a small glare slip through his calm, collected façade.

How dare Michael. How dare he treat your belongings like this. This wasn't just any old piece of clothing, it was yours. It was something William's bunny left him. It was his jacket now. Not Michaels. That fucking idiot. That piece of shit. William hated him. He hated him more than ever. He should've fucking left this goddamned family when he had the chance.

The brit needed to keep is cool as best he could. Not just for his sake, but for yours too. If the secret of his relationship with you got out this early, it would be much more difficult to manage.

For you, bunny. He'd keep his cool for you.

"What is this?" William asked, trying to sound as non-chalant as possible. This only appeared to make his son even angrier.

"You know exactly what the fuck that is!!" Michael shouted, "What the hell did you do?"

"Michael, I don't-"

"(Y/N)!" Michael exclaimed as he cut his father off, "Why the fuck do you have their jacket?! What the hell did you do to them?!"

God, how can one boy be so annoying? Could he just move out already? All he ever was these days was a headache. He was an obstacle. He was the reason why William couldn't have his sweet bunny in his arms right now.

Idiot.

"Please, Michael," William said calmly, rubbing the bridge of his nose in his fingers, "You're being ridiculous. (Y/N) comes over all the time."

"I'm not being ridiculous!" Michael spat back, pointing his finger at his father, "You did something to them! I know you fucking did!"

William couldn't help but raise his voice just a hair, "Just because you found (Y/N)'s jacket doesn't mean-"

"It was with your fucking clothes, dad! Why else would it be there?!"

Worthless.

"I don't know, I probably just saw it in the house and threw it in the wash."

Michael laughed, "Oh, bullshit! Don't think I don't remember all those fucking times you asked about (Y/N). All the times you didn't let me fucking sleep until I told you about them! Where you practically made me write fucking essays about every little detail of their life?!"

William rubbed his temples next.

Pathetic.

"I just wanted to know more about your friends-"

"How about the time you picked me up from class, huh? Even when I drove my damn self?! We were in the parking lot for an hour and a damned half while you talked to them!"

Waste of space.

"Michael-"

"Or how about the time you told me to invite them over, hm? And then when you did it again the next day? Then the next? Then the next?! And you kept asking for a fucking month straight?! Does that fucking ring a bell?!"

Shut up.

"I just-"

"I don't know what kind of fucking game you're playing here, old man, but you need to leave both me and (Y/N) the hell alone!"

William felt his jaw tighten.

Shut up.

"I've never-"

"All my entire goddamned life, all you've ever done is fuck shit up! And I've fucking had it! I finally have one normal friendship with someone who gets me, and all you wanna do is fuck it up!"

Shut up.

"I'm not trying to-"

"Whatever goddamned game you're playing here needs to fucking stop right GODDAMN now you sick piece of shit! You already fucked up my life, and I won't let you fuck up (Y/N)'s!"

The heat was starting to creep down William's neck.

SHUT UP.

"Mike-"

"Because guess fucking what?! (Y/N) is my friend! Not yours! (Y/N) isn't yours to-"

William's body moved on auto-pilot as he sprung up from his chair, the cheer force sending it rolling across the basement on its wheels. Pure, red-hot rage filling William's veins, he quickly marched over to his eldest son and grabbed him by his collar, a look of fear flashing over his freckled face as his father nearly slammed him back against the wall. The brit leaned in close with a glare, looking right into his son's eyes as he snarled through his teeth.

That little fucker. How dare he. Who is he to decide what belonged to William and what didn't. You were his. His. Not Michael's.

His.

"Listen here you little shit," William rasped, "I am fucking tired of you and this fucking attitude you've got, and all this bullshit you're making up. You do not come down here and start shit like this when you don't pay any goddamned bills, over these fucking fantasies you got in that thick skull of yours. When all I've done is try and be kind to you. I am your father, goddamn it! And you will respect that, you ungrateful brat."

Michal struggled in William's hold, giving the older man a glare right back, trying to put on a brave face, "Maybe if you were fucking honest I could respect you more, you narcissistic fuck."

"I am being fucking honest! Do I need to take a bloody polygraph for you?! Would that be sufficient for you, hm? Would it?!"

Michael continued to struggle in William's grip, but William was far stronger than Michael was. It was pointless.

Just like Michael.

"Answer me!" William spat at his son, pushing him further against the wall.

Michael gripped onto William's scarred wrist, trying to pull him off, his glare deepening as he looked into his grey eyes.

"(Y/N) doesn't like liars. Or demented twats like you!" Michael spat back, "How do you think they'd react if they saw you now?"

William's grip on his son's collar tightened at his words, the brit's back teeth gnawing together in his fury. Michael couldn't even fathom the level of which William knew you. He knew your soul. Your heart. Your mind. Your body. All of you. Michael was somehow your friend, but he didn't even know you. Oh, no. Not like William did. The older man knew everything about you. You were his sweet bunny. You were his soulmate. Michael was none of that. He was so beneath you, he couldn't even begin to understand such a wonderful, beautiful creature like you. Not even if he had spent every living, breathing moment of his pitiful life basking in the glory that was your presence. Michael would never understand.

No. Not at all. Not like William could.

William was your man. Your other half. Your mind and his was one in the same, and you were his.

He knew if you were here right now, you'd understand. You'd understand his rage. His anger towards his son. Because that was just who you were. You loved William. You loved him for him, the real him. Even the ugliest parts of him, that he had to keep hidden for so long, until he found you.

And who was Michael to challenge that?

No one. No one at all.

Michael was just fucking with William. Like he always was. Playing these little games to try and make the brit's life a living hell.

Two can play those fucking games, Michael.

Without warning, William let go of Michael's collar, sending the young man falling to the ground as he coughed and sputtered. The older man didn't even realize that he'd been gripping on to him so tightly, nor that he had even lifted him off the ground so high. Whatever. It didn't matter. He didn't care.

His brow stull furrowed, William marched back over to his workbench and picked up the phone that laid on its surface. The long chord dragging behind him, he marched over to the hunched-over Michael on the ground, holding out the phone and its receiver out to the young man with a stern expression.

"Here." William said flatly as Michael looked him up and down.

"What?" Mike asked, making William roll his eyes out of annoyance. God, how can someone be so fucking stupid? Especially someone he unfortunately shared DNA with.

"If you're so bloody sure of your little theory," William explained, slowly so that the idiot hopefully understood, "Why don't you ask (Y/N) yourself, hm? Or do you want to admit you made all this shit up now?"

Michael furrowed his brow, "It's 11 at night, they're gonna be-"

"I didn't fucking ask what the fucking time is!" William shouted, "Do I need to spell it out for you?! Are you that idiotic?! Call. (Y/N). And. Ask. Or go upstairs and leave me the hell alone, selfish brat."

Michael's gaze flickered from the phone, up to William, to the phone again, and then back up to his father. After what seemed like an eternity, Michael shifted his weight to lean against the wall as he sat on the floor, picking up the phone. William tossed the receiver down by his feet over to Mike, making the young man flinch with the sudden crash. As Mike rotated the phone's digits to your number, William walked back over to his chair, pulling it up closer to his son and sitting down in it backwards.

As he heard the phone ring, and William continued eye contact with his son, he couldn't help but feel a little nervous. You and him had talked about keeping your relationship a secret. You understood why the two of you had to, and you did promise him that you could keep a secret. But Mike was your only friend. You trusted him. You were a good bunny too. You'd never just straight up lie, wouldn't you?

But that was the thing. You were a good bunny. You'd listen to William and what he told you to do. What he said, went. No matter what.

This was your ultimate test, bunny.

You'd better not disappoint him. He'd hate to have to punish you so early on, and clean up the mess your honest lips got the two of you in to. He'd do it, of course. So he got to keep you. But he'd rather keep things how they are right now. Where he had time to plan things out, and judge things carefully and slowly.

Be good now, little one.

Be good.

William kept on his stern expression as the phone continued to ring, maintaining eye-contact with Mike in the heavy silence between them as they waited. Mike originally had his ear to the phone, but decided to point it out into the room so that both he and his father could hear.

The tension was thick. But your little voice cut through it all.

"Hello?"

William could feel his shoulders relax slightly at the sound of your voice. He couldn't help but think back to his little phone call with you, when he first invited you over a few days prior. The happiest day of his life. God damn it. He missed you so much.

Michael and William sat in silence for a moment. Mike was seemingly nervous to say anything, wetting his lips and taking a few silent deep breaths to steady his voice.

"H-Hey, (Y/N)." Michael said to you, clearly trying to sound as normal as possible.

Pathetic.

"Oh, hey Michael!" you responded, "What's up? Is everything okay? You normally don't call this late."

William and his son locked eyes again, another brief pause hanging in the air. The brit shifted in his seat.

Come on, bunny. Be good. Be good.

Michael bit the inside of his cheek before responding, "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just..."

Michael trailed off in his own thoughts, and William rolled his eyes again, gesturing for Michael to keep going.

"Jusssst, what?" You asked.

"It's just... I-I was just wondering if you had came to my place over the weekend? I found some of your things, and..."

William felt the grip on the back of the chair tighten, his mouth going dry. Fucking hell. He thought he might just shit a brick.

Silence hung over the room as you paused.

The brit could feel the sweat starting to form on the back of his scarred neck.

Please, bunny. Please be good for William. He loves you so much. Please be the good bunny he knows you are.

For him.

"Um, no?" you eventually said, "You never invited me over, Mike."

His lips parting, William breathed out a silent sigh of relief, feeling cool, crisp waves of euphoria washing over him. Oh, bunny. Oh his sweet precious bunny. So good for him. So so perfect. You did so well for William. You did exactly what he told you to. You took your orders so well, little one. William loved you so so so very much. You were so good. So precious. So smart and kind and beautiful. This is why you were his bunny. You understood your role, and understood what William was all about. What he was to you. He loved you so much. His precious darling. His soulmate.

His.

Leaning forward a tad in his seat, William had to fight back the smirk that threatened to dawn his handsome features as he looked at his son's shocked, defeated expression.

William could hardly contain himself. He won. He fucking won against that ungrateful piece of shit. Finally humbled that stupid idiot and his fucking superiority complex.

Oh, bunny. You were so perfect.

William just had to reward you now, didn't he? The next time he saw you. How could he not? After you were so well behaved for him? Hell, with the amount of excitement pumping through his body, William doubted he could wait until next weekend.

He missed you. He wanted you. Needed you.

His body yearned for yours even more now. Not just his body, but his soul and heart too. Precious little one. You were made for him, you were. How did he even function before without you in his life? He wished that you were here right now. He wished he could pull you close right here and kiss those sweet lips of yours, showing to his son that you were his now. Not Michaels. HIS.

Perfect bunny. His sweet, precious treasure. His sun and stars. William should give you an extra special reward next time he sees you now, shouldn't he? He's missed you so so much. And you were so very good for him, weren't you? Maybe William will buy you a special outfit to fit the occasion. Or perhaps you'd like something more classy? A nice date? Something new and expensive for you to show off? Or do you just want him? Think about it, bunny. Whatever it is, sir is perfectly happy to give it to you.

Thoughts of you swirling around inside his head over and over again, William watched as Michael opened and closed his mouth like a dying fish as he struggled with what to say. The shock of your little fib was still in his grey, widened eyes. The brit had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing.

"Michael?" You asked, "Are you still there?"

The young man had to swallow before he responded, "Y-Yeah, (Y/N)... I'm still here."

"Are you sure everything's okay? Did something happen?"

"No, (Y/N)... It's all fine. I just... I got mixed up. I'll see you in class tomorrow, okay?"

"Alright, if you say so. See you tomorrow, Mike. Goodnight."

"Night."

Silence filling the room again, Michael slowly slipped the phone back on the receiver, hanging it up. William continued to look at his son as he stared ahead with a shocked, defeated, and bewildered look on his freckled face. It was hard for him to keep from grinning like a damn fool. Michael finally got just a taste of what he deserved. How dare he come in here like that? Tossing around your jacket like it was nothing? Screaming his ugly head off at his own father? Throwing around insults? Over nothing? Over something he couldn't even begin to understand?

It was pathetic. But William couldn't even pity his son, no. All he felt towards him was disgust. Disgust and disappointment. And he was sure to make that known to the young man. As he got up from his seat, William gathered a few thing from off his workbench and pushed his chair back in. Straightening his tie and slicking back the few loose strands of his hair, William didn't even bother to pick the phone back up and put it on the workbench. He stepped over his son to go up the stairs without a spare glance.

"Goodnight, Michael." He said to the young man on the floor.

It was only when he closed the basement door behind him did William allow himself to smile.

~~~

Defeat.

It was an old friend to the eldest Afton son. Throughout his entire life, the young man never seemed to win anything. Never in any sports, never anything against his siblings, and certainly never anything in academics. Michael was more-so smart with his heart rather than his brain. Could never find his foot-hold in books and papers and essays.

He took after his mother when it came to Michael's heart. He knew this. Even though he was cursed with resembling his father, he took pride in his nature.

He tried to be kind to everyone. Give everyone an equal opportunity, and even playing field. Perhaps because he was never given one of his own.

Michael hated his father. He hated that man more than anything anyone's ever hated before. Whenever Michael would think he finally got a win over that evil bastard, the boy was brought back to his knees.

Quiet. Complacent. Fading into the background.

That's all that Michael's father wanted him to be. From very early on, Michael recognized it. But, of course, Michael was smart. He knew that if he simply became like what his father wanted him to be, that would be the old man's real victory. How many times had that psycho told him he was an accident now? Michael had lost track. But it was plenty to get the point across

Michael wasn't wanted. Michael wasn't needed. And William was more than happy to make that known every. Single. Day.

That's how Michael met his old friend defeat. As much as he knew defeat, no matter how many times it came to visit him, he couldn't help but feel the sting. The feeling of knowing that he got so close, only for everything to fall apart in the end. Like when you spend hours on a sandcastle, only for it to be washed away by the sea.

Michael was the sand. And his father was the sea.

Sitting on that cold, unforgiving floor, Michael couldn't move. All he could do was stare ahead into nothingness, his only company his defeat, and the quiet whirr of the water-heater in the background.

How. That was all that Michael wondered. How did it all go wrong? Michael's instincts never failed him like that. When he suspected something was astray, he knew that something was. He knew his father was up to something. He could see it, hear it in the way the old man spoke, and saw it again in that fucking smirk of his. But Michael's father did many things. Many things that Michael didn't like, considered to be cruel. But this...

Michael found his gaze slipping to your jacket, which had long since fallen to the ground.

You were Michael's best friend. Hell, in some ways, his only friend. Was that all that drew his father to you? Because you were easy to access? And that by doing shit to you, it would get a reaction out of Michael? Maybe.

But, then again... no.

No, it had to be more than that. Mike's father wasn't like that. At least, not like that in the sense that he'd go to such lengths if it was only for the purposes of tormenting the young man. He could do that in other ways, and other ways that were safer. Ways in which didn't involve others, that William could use to easily cover his tracks. Getting another person involved was risky. People talk. People suck at keeping secrets. People aren't easy to hide.

There had to be more to it. There had to be.

But, Michael was at an impasse.

You weren't a liar. You hated liars. You never ever lied maliciously. Even if it wasn't what Michael wanted to hear, you always told him the truth. That's what made you a good friend. So why? If you really hadn't come over that weekend for William to do shit to you, why would you lie about it?

Michael felt his lips part.

Unless you were told to lie. Unless...

You were in on it too.

Oh, god. No. No. What the fuck did his father do to you? What kind of sick game was this? William was trying to turn you against Mike, little by little. Step one was to make it to that you didn't believe Michael was ever telling the truth. This was step one. That whole phone call was step one. What did he do to you, (Y/N)? What kinds of things did William tell you?

None of them were true. Whatever they were, they were lies. Michael was sure of it.

But Michael knew the game all too well. And he knew that it was one he would never win.

Not unless he had an ally. That knew the game just as well as he did.

His father was not gonna take you away from Mike. No matter what.

Picking up the phone that sat next to him again, Michael held it up to his ear as he turned the dial, punching in a few numbers. He stared ahead again as he waited for it to finish ringing, his eyes fixed on your jacket.

Defeat said its goodbyes as Michael heard the other person pick up.

"Mum? I think I need a favor..."

~~~

tags: @guinea-pig16 @the-official-memester @randomwriteralan @mrsrogerwaters @laylaaftonshit @cherry-slushee @insert-memical-username @mrssafton @horrorking2000 @artist-anon08 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @jamiethenerdymonster @kimyona-san @purplewolfcoffee

apologies to any blogs tumblr wont let me tag!

#william afton x you #william afton smut #william afton x reader #william afton #dave miller x reader #fnaf x y/n #fnaf x you #fnaf x reader #fnaf smut

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shares-a-vest · 1 year

Text

Sometimes Eddie and Steve just need to wake each other up. Even though they both know how much the other needs their sleep. It's kind of a miracle if they are both soundly sleeping, in a bed, at the same time and at a reasonable, normal-ish hour.

Eddie is pretty much hyperactive all the time, somehow both a morning person and a night owl, so he operates on very little sleep anyway. Whereas Steve just doesn't relax and pushes through being exhausted. And it goes without saying that they need their rest considering all the Upside Down related nightmares, anxiety and all the physical stuff that came after.

The first time it happened, Eddie was wide awake, tossing turning and getting increasingly upset about not sleeping as he stared at the ceiling. He didn't want to wake Steve who seemed to be in a deep sleep, exhausted from work and running around with the kids. He wasn't even thinking about her to start with, but he inevitably started visualising Chrissy Cunningham on ceiling. He screwed his eyes shut and let out a sobbing whine, cursing his sleeplessness.

"What's wrong?" Steve mumbled, stirring ever so slightly at the fidgeting boy beside him.

"Nothing," he replied, tears welling up.

Steve hummed with a tone indicating he knew Eddie was lying. He readjusted the arm he had slung over Eddie, scooting closer so he could rest his head on his shoulder.

Blinking into focus, his vision immediately zeroed in on Eddie's tears. He 'tsks'd fondly and propped himself up on his elbow.

"Eddie. What's wrong, baby?" he asked quietly, combing his fingers through the lock of hair Eddie had been nervously twisting up.

He gulped and closes his eyes as he willed himself to explain through falling tears.

"It's my dad's birthday tomorrow and... I'm just thinking about him a lot," he said, head shaking along with distress.

He didnt really say too much more. Well, not anything he hadn't already told Steve. Just the basics of his shitty relationship with his shitty dad, recounting the times he went with Wayne to visit his father at prison. Steve simply hummed along, combing the tangles from Eddie's hair before eventually settling back down to just look over at him as he calmed down.

"Wake me up, when you feel like this. Okay, Eds?" is all Steve said when Eddie finished.

Eddie slowly nodded, eyes drooping as he began to doze off, hand holding onto Steve's protective arm.

For Steve, the first time he just needed Eddie awake with him was after a nightmare. Not one where he was yelling or moving around enough to awaken Eddie. Just a horrible dream he'd suddenly awoken from, immediately bursting into tears upon finally escaping it. He cupped a hand over his mouth, trying not to wake Eddie who was running on almost no sleep working on some big campaign in between shifts. He silently cried for a while, eventually removing his tired hand, allowing it to slump at his side. But he sniffled louder than he expected and Eddie stirred, leaning over in an instant.

"What's wrong?" he demanded, big brown eyes glistening from street lights peaking in through the blinds.

"I had a bad dream," Steve sobbed.

If he wasn't so upset, he would have probably said he sounded like a whining toddler. Instead, he rolled over into his boyfriend's waiting, open arms. Eddie hummed quietly in his ear, soothing him as he cried and ran his fingers through his bed hair.

"M'Sorry," Steve mumbled, apologising like he always did any time he displayed any remotely sad emotion.

"Sweetie, you could have woken me up," Eddie insisted when Steve pulled away just enough to make eye contact. He simply nodded before going back to his hiding spot, clinging to him.

Eddie didn't press further when he didn't automatically argue the point. He just continued humming and stroking his hair.

Steve eventually tearfully explained that in his dream he found himself with Eddie and Dustin in an Upside Down version of his house and suddenly turned around and Dustin had disappeared and they couldn't find him anywhere. Eddie talked to ground him in reality, telling him to call Dustin first thing in the morning. That they were all okay and safe.

Eddie only closed his eyes when he could hear Steve snoring and his grip on him softened.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie headcanon #steddie hcs #brought to you by: me planning on staying up to work on my wips but now i'm too sleepy #steddie headcanons #lilys hcs #healing steddie

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bangtanxmegan · 1 year

Text

bts reaction - your child see him crying

MIN YOONGI

Yoongi was frustrated because he couldn't finish a song. He tried to do everything but nothing turned out the way he wanted.

He just laid his head on the table and started to cry. Yoongi heard the studio door open and quickly wiped his face and composed himself when he saw his 6 year old son enter.

"Daddy, I already had lunch, now we can go... are you crying?"

"No."

"But your eyes are red... - Isac approaches and sits on his father's lap, hugging his waist. - "Okay, now you can cry."

Yoongi tries his best not to sob as the tears fall.

KIM SEOKJIN

You and Jin had a horrible argument, it was definitely the worst ever. Feeling very guilty, he decided to sit in the backyard and let all the accumulated tears fall freely.

"Daddy, please don't cry. You're too beautiful for that." - Kira approaches and sits next to her father.

Jin is startled and wipes his tears, a weak smile appears on his lips.

"I never cry, you know that."

"Don't lie to me, young man." - the child hugs him. - "Mom is just a little stressed. If you give her some chocolate, she'll talk to you again."

"Thanks for the help."

JUNG HOSEOK

Hoseok was chopping onions and his eyes were watering.

"I hate chopping onions." - He wipes the tear that fell with his blouse.

"Daddy, are you crying?" - Your daughter enters the kitchen, facing her father.

"No my love, it's just the onions" - you said to the child.

The girl doesn't pay attention to you and run to hug Hoseok's legs, starting to cry.

"Daddy, don't cry."

"My little baby, don't cry. If you cry then I'll cry."

He bent down to hug her, also starting to cry.

It took you a long time to calm down them.

KIM NAMJOON

"I just can't do it anymore. You always put your job first and forget about me and Jiwoo." - you point your finger at Namjoon's face. -"Don't forget that you are my husband and we have a teenage daughter who needs you."

Namjoon starts to cry, sitting on the floor in front of you.

"I swear I try to do my best and be more present, but you need to understand my..."

"I don't want to hear you play the victim, Namjoon." - you go to the table and grab your bag. - "I'm going out to eat something. I'll be right back."

Namjoon cries even more, letting the guilt wash over him.

"Daddy, drink some water."

Jiwoo hands the glass to his father, helping him drink all the liquid. The girl sits there stroking Namjoon's back waiting for him to calm down.

PARK JIMIN

Your son had been in the hospital for nearly three weeks and was showing no improvement. Jimin was trying to be strong, doing everything to help you.

He told you to go home and rest, because he would keep an eye on your son. While he slept, Jimin played with his hair and silently cried.

"Please get well soon..."

"I promise I'll get better." - the boy wakes up and kisses Jimin's face. - "Lie here with me?"

Jimin nods and climbs onto the bed, hugging his son.

KIM TAEHYUNG

Yeontan had passed away due to old age last night, everyone in the house was sad but Taehyung was the one who was the most shaken. The puppy that was part of the best moments of his life would no longer be there. Never.

Taehyung cried looking at the photos on his cell phone, especially the one where Yeontan was sleeping with the twins.

"Dad, he's in a much better place." - Lia kisses his face.

"I heard that good dogs go to heaven and eat treats for eternity." - Leonardo plays with Tae's hair. - "Tantan was a good dog. I bet he has a full belly now."

"He sure is."

Taehyung gives the first smile after hours.

JEON JUNGKOOK

"Breakup? You're kidding, right?" - Jungkook cry.

"No. Our relationship isn't working and you know it very well." - you wipe his tears. - "I don't want Tony to live with us just fighting."

Jungkook sits on the couch and is silently staring at the white wall.

"I'm going to stay at my mother's house. Tomorrow I'll come back to get my stuffs and we'll talk better."

You kiss his cheek and go upstairs to your room.

Tony runs to sit next to Jungkook, hugs his dad and puts on a cartoon he knew his father loves to watch.

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wrenreid · 2 years

Text

Off Limits

Spencer Reid x fem oc

Content warnings: talk of death, violence, daddy issues, alcohol consumption (legal age), guns…

Part One

College life has been great… is what I would say if just six months ago I didn’t get a call from my father saying my mom died because he didn’t catch some criminal. I’d known a little bit about the jackass who’d been hunting and tormenting my father only because Dad bothered to share minor details for my safety.

When I had refused to put my last year of undergrad on halt because the great Aaron Hotchner had pissed off an unsub so bad that he began hunting my family, I was granted a body guard instead. Granted isn’t exactly the word I would use though. I would say forced to have some big guy follow me around while my mom and little brother hid out in an undisclosed location. But Dad told me it was either that or I join my family and put graduating on pause.

For the two months I had Marcus following me around and not letting any cute guys near me - which I thought was ridiculous because clearly the gorgeous basketball player from the neighboring housing dorm, Andre Taylor was not George Foyet - I had the audacity to feel sorry for myself. But then that self pity turned to rage and despair when Dad called me crying and told me what happened to my poor mother.

Haley Hotchner was not just my mom; she was my friend, my confidant, my lifeline. My dad and I have always been close, but I could tell Mom things I could never have him knowing.

I moved back home for the rest of that month and well into the next. I did my college work online; luckily my professors were lenient with me given the situation I was in.

Come mid October, I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to go back to New York. My dorm room was waiting for me, and the house I grew up in was suffocating my entire being. Everything in there was sad, not just my father and Jack. Mom’s things that remained untouched would taunt me, making me miss her even more. The house reeked of depression and death.

Dad was upset when I told him I was going back to the university, but he understood. He knew he couldn’t lock his 21 year old daughter in a depressing household and use her as a baby sitter while he avoided his sadness by diving into work. He also knew that if he did, I would’ve grown to resent him even more than I already had.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my father. We had a great relationship while I was growing up. However, there had always been a hole in the house, a hole in my life. He was always gone for work, especially when he started at the BAU when I was ten. He started missing more and more important days in mine and my mother’s lives. My twelve birthday for example: Dad was supposed to pick up the big surprise present my parents had bought for me, but he answered the call from Agent Gideon and headed to Oregon instead.

My mother left some very “nice” words for him on his voicemail that day. I didn’t cry though, or even tell Mom I was sad. I just sat beside her and watched all my friends play while I secretly and silently hoped my father was planning some big surprise and a case was his cover up. But the real “surprise” was that my hopes were horribly crushed as I waited hour by hour at the door for him to show up.

“C’mon, baby,” my mother brushed my hair out of my face with gentle strokes. “It’s passed your bedtime.”

I had fallen asleep in my hopeless wait. I nodded to my mom and stood up, half consciously letting her guide me to my bedroom upstairs.

I began to grow some sort of spite for my dad that day. Of course he was still my father, and I loved him, but I never quite saw him the same. Sometimes I would feel as though me, his baby girl, was less important than work.

I thought that this would end when my baby brother Jack was born. Dad was home for a while, and the four of us were a happy, functioning family. I was a senior in high school, so my father was running out of chances to be with me, my mother made sure he knew that. I thought I would get to have my dad back.

But soon enough, he went back to work and was only there 2-3 days a week most of the time. I think Mom grew to have spite for him as well. Actually, I know she did because she called me one day after class and told me she was divorcing my father. I felt sick to my stomach. Our family was falling apart, and I was at university 230 miles away. And my poor baby brother was only 2.

Anyway, after going back to school things started to get a little better. My aunt became Jack’s practically live in nanny, and Dad seemed to be doing much better after a few months.

Now, it’s March, six months after my mother’s gut-wrenching death, and I think our family’s going to make it. We’re the Hotchners after all, and we’re nothing if not stubborn, so I think we’ll survive this just out of spite of George Foyet and everything he stands for.

Sometimes, when I drink a little too much (or not enough), I can imagine the horror of the moment Foyet almost took my father from me too. He told me a little about both times he was attacked, and every time I think too much about it, my stomach hurts, and I feel sick.

I’ve been asked before what if I think my dad killing Foyet was too harsh, but I don’t. I don’t find it harsh enough for what that evil thing deserved. It’s obvious that he would’ve gotten to Jack then maybe even me - I’ve seen his female victims, I’m just his type - if Dad hadn’t finished him off.

“Jade,” my best friend since middle school waves her hand in front of me. “Jade, you’re doing that thing again where you drift off into space.”

I shake my head a bit then look at her. “Hm? Oh sorry, I was doing that again.”

“Where’d you go this time?” She asks, a look of concern on her face.

“It’s not important,” I shrug her question off. “Let’s do body shots!”

I grab her hand and drag her to the living room of some guy we’ve never even met. The too-loud music guides my hip swaying as I lead CeCe to the crowd of people cheering and laughing. Two hot guys lay on the table as some chick older than me places a shot class full of clear liquid, Tequila, on top of his belly button.

“Who’s next?” She asks with a drunken smile.

“Me,” I say and step forward as annoyed sorority girls whine about me ‘cutting in front of them’, which is an elementary term for it, but the only one I can see fit.

The girl grins and looks me up and down. “Brave of you to go against these cult chicks,” she tells me. I make the safe assumption that she’s not a fan of sororities.

I shrug and move my hair out of my face as I lick the salt from the guy’s abs, take the shot of tequila, then take the lime from the girls teeth, all in one pretty smooth motion I think. I suck the juice off the lime and make a scrunched up face before opening my eyes again. I see CeCe laughing at me and shaking her head.

“You are something, Jade,” she chuckles as I walk back over to her with a little skip in my step.

“I’m a fun- haverer,” I say then laugh at my stupid made up word. “Why aren’t you having fun? You’re being so lame.”

“I am having fun. I’m just worried about you.”

“Don’t be! I’m just making this spring break amazing,” I say, wrapping my arm around her shoulders.

“But I j-“

“Nope. Do not pull the dead mom card. Only I can pull the dead mom card because It’s my mom who’s dead,” I say. I know she’s worried about me because I’m back in DC for the first time since my mom’s funeral, but I don’t need her worries.

CeCe sighs but nods. “Okay. I won’t pull that card.”

“Thank you. Now I need some fucking beer,” I say, heading to the kitchen.

“Don’t you think you’ve had too much to drink?” my best friend asks.

“You sound like my dad.”

“Actually, I have not warned off every guy here, thank you very much,” CeCe laughs softly.

I join in on the chuckle, rolling my eyes. “As funny as that is, it’s not inaccurate.”

Protectiveness is not a word used lightly when used to describe my father. I know he’s showing his love in his own way, but it’s overbearing at times. I wasn’t allowed to date until I was 16, and even then he let every possible suitor know that he was fully trained and armed.

Basically, no guy wanted to go out with me because they were scared my dad may ring them by their necks. And I suppose my father can be kind of intimidating when he wants to be, but I don’t quite see it. Sure, he’s serious a lot, especially now that my mother is gone, but I’ve seen his soft, goofy, smily side. I guess the bitch boys I tried to date hadn’t, so they were on the verge of pissing their pants when thinking about what FBI agent, Aaron Hotchner would do to them if they even just kissed my cheek.

Even when I moved off to college, the guys still were scared to do anything with me because they knew who my dad is.

“No way, dude. She’s an FBI agent’s daughter, your balls would be shot off and stuffed into your mouth if you tried to tap that.”

That is a literal quote from a frat boy I heard talking to his friend in the common area. It was quite the visual and quite the obnoxious thing to hear.

I take a swig from a bottle I dug from the cooler. As the liquid hits my taste buds, my stomach does an unsettling flop. “You know what? You’re right, I’ve had too much to drink,” I tell CeCe and hand her the beer.

“Let’s just dance instead?” She suggests.

“I like your thinking!”

The two of us head over to a group of people and dance with each other and the cute guys we’re around.

A guy with straight blonde hair makes eye contact with me, and I smile bashfully. He makes his way over to me and asks if I would dance with him.

“Well, I’m already dancing, so why not?” I shout teasingly over the music.

He chuckles and moves to the beat along with me. Feeling a little flirty, I wrap my arms around his neck.

“You’re a pretty little thing,” he says to me.

“Thanks.” I say, but it’s more like a question because he called me a thing when I am, if it wasn’t obvious, a human being.

“So what brings you to this party?”

“Oh you know, just wanting to have some spring break fun. I just got back in town fro-” My sentence is cut off my lips crashing onto mine. His mouth is hot and taste like alcohol, but then again that could also be my mouth. His hands roam too far down my back, and I free myself from his grasp.

My hand connects with his cheek with a satisfying sound. “You can’t just-”

I’m cut off once again by the man who’s now holding his redden face, my hand print on it. “You bitch!”

“Maybe that’ll teach you something, jackass,” I huff and make my way out of the house.

I can hear guys “oh”-ing dramatically, half laughs in their voices.

The music is getting way too loud; I can barely hear my heart pounding in my chest even though it feels so harsh and loud.

My name is being called from behind me, but I don’t turn around. Instead, I sit on the porch of the house and take a deep breath.

CeCe finally pushes her way past the crowd of people and catches up to me. “Jade,” she says. She sits down next to me but doesn’t say anything else for a moment.

“That was pretty badass of you to stick up for yourself like that,” she finally says, a small grin on her face.

“I don’t have a law enforcement dad for nothing,” I chuckle softly. “Plus he had it coming.”

“He for sure did. Someone definitely needed to smack that cocky grin right off his face.”

I grin faintly and run a hand through my now extremely loosely curled hair.

The two of us sit on the porch for a while until I feel sober enough to go home. CeCe, who was kind enough to be DD tonight, drives me back to my dad’s.

He moved into a two story apartment when Mom filed for a divorce. We stayed in the house for a while after her death, but eventually Dad moved him and Jack into his apartment. I think that was the best for all of us, so we weren’t surrounded by the memories of what happened between those very walls.

“You sure you’re good to walk up there on your own?” CeCe asks me.

“Yes. I’m mostly sober now,” I say, grabbing the empty bottle of water she made me drink on the car ride here. I’m not lying to her, the affects of the alcohol have lessened tremendously since it’s been a while since I had my last drink.

“Be safe! I’ll see you later,” she says.

“You too.” I walk up to the apartment complex’s front door, use the extra key my dad gave me, and make my way to the lobby’s elevator. I wave to CeCe who’s waiting on me to get safely to the elevator as I step into it. She waved back and begins pulling out of the parking lot.

I press the button “7” and feel the elevator take me up to the seventh floor. I find my dad’s apartment number, unlock the door, and walk in.

Luckily, no one is here to scold me for being home so late because Dad is at a five-day-long conference with Agent Rossi, and Jack is staying with Aunt Jessica.

I put my keys on the ring my dad has beside the door and kick off my docs. I notice the kitchen and living room lights are on, which is strange. No lights are on upstairs.

I look around, making sure nothing is out of place. Which is kind of hard since I haven’t been in this apartment in months. I freeze in my place by the couch as I hear something in the kitchen. Shit. Of course something like this would happen when I’m the only one home.

I sneak on my tippy toes, careful not to make a sound as I go to the safe my father has hidden behind a family picture. I pinch in the key, my birthday, and grab the gun Dad bought for me when I was 18. I’ve never used it, and never planned to use it, but tonight it seems like it could come in handy. I load it quickly and proceed toward the sound of footsteps and clinging in the kitchen.

Gun pointed, I sneak into the kitchen to see the back side of a man at the counter.

“Hands up!” I yell as if I’m a cop.

The man whips around immediately, obviously startled. I’ve caught him off guard. Good.

“Hands up! This thing is loaded, and I will shoot if you try anything.”

“Woah, woah, woah! Put that down,” he says, hands up and eyes wide.

“What? No. You can’t just break in without consequences!” I say, keeping my sim at his leg.

“Break in? Wh-”

Suddenly, I know where I recognize that raspy, almost high pitched voice from. I recognize the face too even though it’s changed since I’ve last laid eyes on it. “Dr. Reid?” I ask, baffled.

I see the recognition click in his eyes as well. “Wait, Jade?”

two

tags: @pauline5525mgg @theintimatewriter @lilibet261 @greysviolets @jazzymariexoxoc @one-sweet-gubler @thatsonezesty13 @necromaniackat @reidsprettygirl @awhoreforspencerreid @sebs-oxygen @yazzyu @crynroom @scarredelirium @lena-1895 @preciousbabypeter <3

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renaultmograine · 4 months

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So, in the foundation of the "Westfall-in love" or whatever you're calling katrina/nathanos. (Dragonblight?) Does she end up developing feelings for Anduin, given his affinity for attachments to black dragons...

Do we have minor appearances? Jaina? Vanessa? How are they coping with/not helping?

Dragonblight is hilarious I'm calling it that now.

I mean it depends on what the feelings are IMO? I don't think romantic ones necessarily (mostly because I'm not even sure if she had romantic feelings towards Varian?). I've debated Onyxia/Anduin in a different context and I think it suffers from my same inability to ship Wranduin, which is I don't actually think Anduin could tolerate them at length. The dynamic makes for nice and crunchy character interactions and I really do enjoy those, but I can't ship it.

I do really like fucked up parent/child adjacent relationships that despite their ups and downs, end up rather amicable (I think the Lightbringer series did that?), and they'd have such a weird one. Anduin who is viciously honest and unrepentant in his beliefs for peace and goodness but also isn't above doing underhanded shit for said beliefs would be infuriating with glimmers of "you're not so bad kid." They of course both hate this too.

In terms of other characters

This is, in my mind, taking place in lieu of the Gathering shit, and Jaina is AWOL at this point, and depending how fast the wedding shit takes place misses it entirely (this would be HILARIOUS news to break to her when she gets back from her therapy boating trip btw. I'd be jealous of whoever got the honor.)

I don't imagine Vanessa would have any part of this (I'm guessing this was brought up because of my 'Vanessa is a black dragon' post and the image of that being true in tandem with a living Onyxia is a hilarious one but it's a digression too far rn. I need to live in the space a bit to consider that and I'm doing broad strokes right now).

All the Horde leaders are expecting this to be a shitshow. I'm split between they're getting a sense of schadenfreude (as iirc none of them really like Nathanos) but there's a looming sense of immense danger with it, or them genuinely feeling sorry for Nathanos because Sylvanas just dumped (this on) him.

Lor'themar and Halduron are betting on how long before this explodes because they KNOW how Sylvanas is about Nathanos. (Halduron is convinced it'll be fine because he doesn't believe she's capable of feeling love, Lor'themar points out how you don't need to feel love to feel every other emotion involved with seeing a guy you obsessed over marry another woman.)

Baine was cautiously optimistic about this until he heard it was Nathanos and Katrana getting married.

No one on the Alliance knows what exactly to think about with this. I don't think anyone really likes Katrana but also no one likes the thought of a black dragon being close with the Horde either so it's kind of an impasse.

Genn and Katrana are at least having fun shit talking all of this in the wedding prep because if there's one thing old people like doing its complain.

fucking. CALIA. oh my god.

Calia who is talking to Anduin about how horrible her father was for arranging her marriage to a Lord Prestor and Anduin who is just going :V because he just arranged someone's marriage to a Prestor.

Anduin who is like "am i bad person for this?" as if Nathanos isn't like a fifty year old man who (theoretically) could've said no to this and not a teenage girl with no choice in the matter.

could you imagine. the wedding rehearsal. genn who is this close to making a scene vs sylvanas seeing him and turning to go "should i make a scene." its unfortunately lor'themar next to her and he's a good voice of reason.

TYRANDE WITH THE STEEL CHAIR AGAINST THALYSSRA COMPLETELY UNPROMPTED OH NO

#Sorry i still find it so funny they shoe-horned tyrande into being racist against highborne 2.0 #id do more but im tired!#ask #verillia #dragonblight

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darklinaforever · 1 year

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DAEMON AS FATHER (Again yes)

Hello, we meet again for an article concerning the paternity of Daemon Targaryen. And yes, this subject will never cease to be debated. A subject that would not even have taken place if the writers had kept the scenes of affection between Daemon and his daughters. But what do you want, things go by the wayside in the editing room and nothing can be done about it. The only things we can hope for is to find some of these deleted scenes in the dvd, and that they won't do the same bullshit for season 2.

To be clear, this article is not intended to prove that Daemon is the best father in the world, or even more specifically a good father. I remember that no father so far in HOTD is an example. Aside from Daemon, we have Otto, horrible but who clearly loves his daughter in his twisted way, and Viserys who has, let's just say, fucked up for a while, but has tried his best to make up for it, albeit not always with a great achievement, and loving his daughter unconditionally. Maybe even a little too much, going so far as to call her his "only child".

This article is mostly there to dismantle the criticisms that Daemon doesn't care about his children, ignores them, and doesn't love them in a BROAD sense. I'll address Rhaena's case at the end more specifically, but she'll still be present in my examples dismantling the initial criticism. Know that there will probably be repetitions in my words between this part and Rhaena's part as well.

With that, let's go! Well, let's be clear and realistic, if Daemon doesn't care about his children, ignores them and doesn't love them in the broad sense of those terms, here's what he will NOT do:

Learn High Valyrian in Baela.

Lean forward to receive Baela's goodnight kiss.

Pay attention to Laena and Rhaenyra's Baby Bump. (caress, kiss)

Would not have himself announced the death of Laena to his daughters. Because yes, it's very clear that he did in that rooftop scene, showing that he cares about them, Rhaena included. If Daemon didn't care, he could have let anyone else among the servants break the news to them, or if he only cared about Baela, take her aside, which he didn't do. Also, more broadly, he wouldn't look sad for his daughters over Laena's death, wishing he could console them but not knowing what to do, as evidenced by his nervous hand movement. Daemon doesn't look indifferent in this scene. He mostly looks sad and annoying not knowing what to do with this situation. (although we know that normally the scene should have ended with a hug…)

To worry about his daughters about the idea of leaving Pentos, the place where they have always lived.

He wouldn't be so happy that Syrax laid 3 eggs for his children with Rhaenyra. (Seriously, this must be the moment when Daemon is the happiest in the series, so much so that this moment shocked a lot of people, including me)

He will not stroke Viserys II's hair, nor try to comfort him when he starts crying.

He won't defend his stepsons.

He wouldn't particularly welcome his children getting married. Seriously, he raises his glass with a grin, which again, isn't necessary, and doesn't make sense to Daemon unless he really means it. Indeed, Daemon was never shown as a hypocritical character.

He wouldn't stop the fight between his stepsons and Aemond, and then more particularly put himself between the latter and ALL his family! Because yes, it's not just Jace and Luke behind Daemon at that moment finally. There is also Rhaenyra, Baela and Rhaena. It is a very symbolic scene as for the future relationship of Daemon and Aemond, future rivals / enemies and the greatest respective asset in their family that they will represent and defend respectively until death. Daemon is therefore represented in this scene as being the defender of his family, this family therefore including Baela and Rhaena.

He wouldn't be devastated when baby Visenya died.

Wouldn't look in the direction of his daughters at baby Visenya's funeral, shortly after the knight swears to them that he will never have children. I don't know if you realize the symbolic power of this scene. Daemon has just lost a child, more specifically a girl, and when the knight swears he will NEVER have children, soon after Daemon looks up and the next shot shows us that specific part of the crowd where prominently finds Rhaena and Baela. It may seem trivial at first, but when you know that after this event Daemon will indeed never have children again, it is particularly impactful. Not only is this a harbinger of the future, but it shows us that Daemon cares for his daughters in his own way.

He wouldn't be sad if Lucerys died.

Good ! Now that all these points have been stated, let's talk more specifically about Rhaena.

In episode 6, we meet Rhaena, Daemon's second daughter, who unlike her sister has still not seen her dragon egg hatch. The little one therefore seems full of uncertainty, even going so far as to place herself below the other members of her family, judging herself less important because she has no dragon. In that same scene, she also states that Daemon is ignoring her. However, before taking Rhaena's words at face value, it's important to remember that it's very common for a child this age to feel ignored by a parent, or to think they're less loved than their siblings, especially if the child in question has a particular insecurity. Which, here, is the case for Rhaena.

Another important detail, Laena defends Daemon to her daughter, saying that he does his best.

Right after, we witness a conversation between Laena and Daemon, finally letting us understand as a spectator the extent of the state of our rogue prince, who is actually in a very bad state. Here Daemon is self-exiled, brooding, burying himself in books, booze, barely sleeping, trying to be content with his current life and family, but missing Viserys and especially Rhaenyra, which throws him in a deep depression.

I don't think he dislikes Rhaena because she doesn't have a dragon. It's stupid to say that. Mainly for two reasons. First, Daemon himself had not yet claimed a dragon at the age of Rhaena, and then Viserys himself, I remind you, does not have a dragon, and yet we all know that Daemon undeniably and unconditionally loves his great brother.

Also, Viserys, in addition to being his older brother, was also his father figure for much of his life. It is therefore normal that Daemon particularly likes him. Even if it can also explain Daemon's difficulties in being a father, in addition to his depression, in view of his model. Let's not forget after all that Viserys made mistakes, and wasn't the best father or brother in the world.

As for Daemon, let's be clear, he's always been a chaotic being, having trouble expressing his emotions properly. But with its current state, it must be even worse. We also know that Daemon clearly has trouble managing (or even not at all) what he can't control, and or what gives him an emotional overflow. So, I think Daemon probably doesn't really know how to comfort Rhaena about her lack of a dragon, or even how to properly broach this topic with her. That's why when Laena finds the right words to comfort Rhaena, she automatically tells her that's what Daemon would tell her as well.

The fact that Baela's egg has hatched presumably allows Daemon to facilitate a connection with his daughter. From what we've seen in the series so far, I think Baela's impulsiveness is the one who looks the most like Daemon, which must have helped a lot in their relationship as well.

But to say that he loves Rhaena less than Baela, ignores her or mistreats her worse (according to some) because we haven't seen direct scenes between them is ridiculous.

In episode 8 we see Daemon being affectionate with his son Viserys II, but not really with Aegon III when he introduces them to his brother along with Rhaenyra. Does that mean Daemon likes Aegon III less than Viserys II? Don't care about him, ignore him, or mistreat him? I do not think so.

Also, I remind you, Daemon himself announced the death of Laena to his daughters. Even if he clearly did not handle this announcement in the best way, it nevertheless shows that he cares as much for Rhaena as for Baela. If that hadn't been the case, he could easily have, because nothing was stopping him, put Rhaena away and only cared about Baela, which he didn't.

Again, in episode 7, when Viserys offers Daemon to return to King's Landing, the latter replies that Pentos is his house and that of his children, thus including once again Rhaena, emphasizing that he worries about his daughters' possible feelings about being uprooted from the place where they have always lived. Again, if Daemon was only driven by a selfish desire to go back to hiding in Pentos (and I mean only, because there's probably a bit of that involved), he wouldn't have included his daughters in his refusal to return to King's Landing. It wasn't necessary. Not to mention that Daemon has never been characterized as a hypocritical character, on the contrary. He is a character who says what he thinks bluntly, and above all who never seeks excuses for his actions.

As for episode 8, it's true that we don't see much of Rhaena in the episode, but from the little we saw of her, she seemed quite happy and content with her life, with no apparent grudge against her father. She even sits next to Daemon at dinner. An interesting detail in my opinion, since she was not in episode 6, where she felt she was precisely ignored by the latter.

During dinner, Daemon also shows his approval and joy for the weddings between his daughters and stepsons, Jace and Luke. (Rhaena is therefore always included)

Then (for the umpteenth time) we have Daemon coming between Aemond and ALL of his family. Because yes, even if he basically intervened to prevent yet another fight between Lucerys, Jacaerys and Aemond, in the end he is still between Aemond and ALL his family. Not just boys. It's not just Lucerys and Jacaerys behind Daemon, but also Rhaenyra, Rhaena, and Baela. This is important to note, knowing that Aemond becomes the strongest enemy of the opposing camp later and it is Daemon who will face him. So here we have Daemon, placed (as always) as protector of his family, Rhaena included. I like this scene all the more that Rhaenyra, while Daemon serves as a shield against Aemond, sends all the children back to their rooms. In short, it is a strong parental moment for Daemyra.

Besides, it's also interesting to see how the children of Daemon and Rhaenyra are different from those of Alicent. We see that all their children seem quite happy and fulfilled, unlike those of Alicent who are all in a rather deplorable mental state. This element alone proves that they were good parents, their family seeming to be united in the best possible way.

As for episode 10, I saw some say that Rhaena was forced into being a cupbearer, therefore in a position of servitude, by Daemon. And that's stupid. There is no evidence that Daemon forced his daughter to be a cupbearer, especially since Rhaena doesn't seem to have a problem being one. She isn't ignored either as Rhaenyra invites her with her to the council table, as does Baela, and Daemon doesn't seem to have any disapproval about it. And given his behavior throughout the episode, if Daemon had had anything to say about including his daughters at the council table, he would have done so, or at least made his disapproval felt, which is another times, was not the case. It's also worth noting the double standard here, as Viserys also named Rhaenyra cupbearer and I doubt it was for lack of love, it just had nothing to do with it. And Viserys, unlike Daemon, has already made his daughter, whom he named as his heir, feel that her active word/presence, other than serving as a cupbearer to the council, was not really desired. And at least Daemon broke the news of Laena's death to his daughters himself. Unlike Viserys with Rhaenyra who learned it from the staff and got ignored days after that.

Also, I want to recall this wonderful scene or Daemon, at baby Visenya's funeral, shortly after the knight swears he will never have a child, looks up in one direction, and the camera pans out automatically on a specific part of the crowd where his daughters are, Rhaena included again. When you know the book, the symbolic power of this scene is quite crazy. As Daemon has just lost a baby, more specifically a girl, and as the knight swears never to have children, Daemon's gaze finally falls on Rhanea and Baela. It may seem trivial at first, but when you know that after this event Daemon will indeed never have children again, well, yes, it is powerful. Not only does this subtly foreshadow the future, but it shows us that Daemon really cares about his daughters in his own way. He has just lost his last child, his only daughter with Rhaenyra, but look at the first ones he had, those that made him a father.

Then, to those who say Daemon is a bad father for not discussing Drifmark with Baela is nonsense. Drifmark never belonged to Baela, Corlys never named her heiress, nothing was stolen from her. Daemon was going to do what? To oppose the legitimate succession when it was not his right? Refuse his son-in-law to obtain his inheritance granted since long before his birth? Also, I'm sure if Daemon had done it, others would have used it to support this stupid opinion that Daemon is a blood supremacist. Then small detail are very important, Baela does not care about Drifmark, it is even she who wrote to Daemon to warn him of Vaemond's plans. Especially since she loses nothing in the affair since she becomes the future queen of the seven crowns.

So for the thousandth time, yes I am sure that Daemon loves and cares about his children, his daughters included, otherwise he wouldn't say and do everything I listed earlier. Sincerely hoping that the relationship between Daemon and his daughters will be more developed in the future, without being cut in the editing this time, as well as simply the characters of Baela and Rhaena, whose scenes outside of Daemon have also been cut during editing, which particularly horrifies me.

#house of the dragon #daemon x rhaenyra #daemyra #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #baela targaryen #rhaena targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #house targaryen #daemon as father

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piglet26 · 5 months

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Star Wars: The Last Jedi Rewatch Part 2

The moment between Leia and Ren is a nice scene and clearly the issues he had between him and father don't reflect the issues between him and his mother. He's a mama's boy.

The Resistance got their ass kicked in this movie. Even when they win it's like ehhhhhhhhhhh

Leia's first proper force moment and she does look like Mary Poppins. Interesting choice but not horrible, possibly just low budget.

In the commentary Rian Johnson says Luke's actions are suppose to come off as cowardly but that's exactly how it comes off. Like he just abandoned people.

Vice Admiral Holdo - Poe has a reaction to her name alone. I wonder if there's a past history between them. Never mind he doesn't know her at all. Holdo putting him in his place very quickly like

Once again Finn is the friend you need and want. Abandoning ship with some stolen supplies and the beacon so Rey doesn't have to come back to this hot mess. Also The Finn?! okay boy you got a reputation.

Rose - sigh. It's not like Rose, Finn and Poe don't have a good plan. It just isn't the best plan. Rose and Finn had a more compelling relationship in the novel. Yes, I support women supporting women but it made sense here why Rose would be jealous of Rey.

Ahh Reylo cleanse my soul - Ren and Rey mean King and Queen. But okay Lucasfilm tell us you didn't know what you were doing.

Rian Johnson shines in his Reylo interactions. We open on dawn in Ach-To (spelling?) the warm sunshine on Rey's face reflecting the mechanical light on Ren's face. The sense each other's presence and then there they are all wide eyed and stunned. The sound design is perfect. Automatically it's establish they can't physically interact just yet. Then they eagerly search for one another.

What's interesting is how both characters react to this. Kylo is curious and interested - Rey's nervous and pissed. Rey is surrounded by nature and Ren by technology. Ya'll keep Ying Yanging. Rian Johnson doing these Forcetimes or ForceSkype whatever was a stroke of genius.

This first lesson between Luke and Rey is honestly the best understanding I've ever had of the Force, the light and the dark. Daisy Ridley looked gorgeous. It also establish Rey/Ren as literally the balance between the force.

#rey skywalker #luke skywalker #star wars the last jedi #kylo ren #ben solo #reylo

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evilautist · 3 months

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ranking the pairings tomodachi life came up with with my ocs

10. mol leed x univen

cursed pairing srsly. one might think that theyd be great for each other cause they are both horrible people in general, but that is dooming one more person to be the abuse victim of univen's fuckery and as bad as mol leed is, pairing him (or most others) with univen is just inhumane. his only saving grace is that he would die of radiation poisoning within a few months because univen is radioactive

also mol leed cheated on rosai with univen. i didnt even know they could do that. i thought hed just reject her because he was already in a relationship

9. vipera x sikra

the two to least likely get together on the entire list; vipera would definitely not get into a relationship with anyone and especially 'i only like men who are pathetic failures' sikra. the two wouldnt last two seconds in-universe before vipera would try and eat sikra's spine. too bad she doesnt have one.

8. giaxxa x tip

the only couple on here who would even have a chance of becoming a legitimate thing in-universe, though not out of love. unfortunately ive already explored that scenario, and itd lead to an extremely toxic relationship filled with resentment on giaxxa's side and neglect on tip's side. however the two are good people so long as they don't get together (and so long as tip's mother doesn't interfere too much in his personal life)

7. shönen x pag

heartbreaking: wrestling champion godess marries worlds most boring dude alive. and she doesnt even like men.

the most interesting thing that could come out of this is a break up, and even that'd put me to sleep

6. pud x big sis

want to give throne a stroke? show him this pairing.

this is just a missmatch of personality, mainly. theyd probably have a fine first few weeks, but big sis would probably drive pud nuts with all her philosophizing (and hallucinogen use).

5. pod x seaadi

the funniest part of this pairing is that in-universe seaadi was dating pud so i like to imagine that he just misread pud's name and now started to accidentally date his lover's aunt.

4. tud x okai

from here on, the relationships could actually work. this one wouldnt work THE best, especially with these two's history with politics and responsibility amongst family, but they'd prolly have fun most of the time

tud would not be happy about being dragged right back into politics after they thrusted that job onto pag though

3. king x frishik

the most stable relationship here, with the both of them being extremely calm and rational (in most cases). they'd also be terrifying as a fighting duo

2. sur x tip

this is the FUNNIEST combination i couldve ever hoped for.

tip, older brother of tip, fell in love with his younger brother's girlfriend, giaxxa. he asked her out twice and got rejected both times, then he asked sur, giaxxa's mother, out and actually got together with her. tip has become his younger brother's father in law, and later had a child with sur, making that kid both giaxxa's brother and nephew. giaxxa had already a weird family due to his sister being older than her mother by nearly two decades, the poor girl will never get a break

and the two could actually make this work. they've got quite a few things in common and tip has a type for women like sur anyways. sur might need a bit of time to warm up to him, but she enjoys ripping on people who act stupid as hell anyways, and tip would provide a fortune for her

nym x glitch 7

how funny that the two victims of the worst couple on here would make the best couple, but i can genuinely see this one. nym's main interest (linguistics and languages) is one of glitch 7's domains as a god, and the two would probably love to go clubbing together. plus nym would finally have a girl interested in him too, instead of just being drowned in potential boyfriends

also glitch would absolutely carry nym around in one arm when hes feeling lazy and/or sad

#tomodachi life #oc stuff

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thepropertylovers · 1 year

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How Do You Mourn the Death of a Parent Who Was Never There?

My dad died last week.

We weren’t very close; we hadn’t been in a while, and I don’t think I had even seen him in person in more than three years. The last time we were in the same room together was in 2019 in his nursing home bedroom when we went to visit him. He couldn’t walk or move much of his body after the major stroke that left him bed-ridden and unable to function like he used to. My dad was a tremendously good athlete and could play any sport he was interested in, so to see him in this state was strange and difficult. All of that potential, gone, reduced to a metal bed and a thin hospital gown.

Gary, my father, had a big heart. He had a passion for life and, as I was told over and over again at his funeral by everyone who greeted me, he loved his kids. A lot. They all told me how he always talked about us and how important we were to him. The thing is, he wasn’t there for so much of my childhood and almost none of my adult life, so it was hard to feel the love that everyone spoke about.

And that is why I find myself here, writing this and questioning why I am so damn heartbroken over his death.

I truly didn’t know him that well, so why am I so sad? Why am I taking this so hard? When we received the call about the horrible choice that no one should ever have to make for someone else had, in fact, to be made the next day (my older sister was left with the harrowing task to choose to remove him from the ventilator or to keep him on for a few days until his passing), it was almost a relief.

We had all, myself and my siblings, been waiting for a call like this for years. My dad was never in good health due to the drinking and the drugs, so it was a situation where we knew he could die at any time because how could anyone live a long life with the choices he was making to his body?

And the truth is, he wasn’t living. Not really. Not in any kind of way that would be considered a good life. We were told he shared those same thoughts with our aunt a few months back. He was in the nursing home for close to four years, confined to a wheelchair and not really able to do anything on his own. He would often say random, off the wall things daily, which was all caused by the stroke. So I have to agree with him: that isn’t really living, is it?

A question we’ve received over and over again throughout the years is what our relationship with our dads is like. People have picked up on the fact we don’t ever show them online and that we only feature our moms. That’s because our dads are not in our lives, and we both believe it’s for the best.

When my parents divorced in 1996, I was five, so a single-parent home is all I’ve ever known. We would visit him in the summers, and he would come into town every now and then, but we lived with my mom, and we were all happiest that way. After the divorce, my dad moved back to South Georgia where the rest of his side of the family lives, which, in turn, left me and my brother and my younger sister back in Tennessee.

He left us to fend for ourselves. He left my mom to raise three kids on her own while working multiple jobs just to make ends meet. He left us to pick up the pieces of a life they built together, a life they envisioned for themselves, for us kids, and for our family.

If you’ve been here a while, you know we live in the same house I grew up in, the same house my mom and dad bought in the mid 80’s, renovated themselves and raised three kids in. If that sounds just like our story, just know the similarities are not lost on me, either. We have dreams and a life planned out for our family, too, and after thinking about it for the last few days, asking myself why I’m taking his death so much harder than I thought I ever would, I think I have come to this conclusion:

For what could have and should have been. He should have seen us get older and experience our milestones in person. He should have been at every one of my football games and helped my mom shuffle us between school and activities. He should have held me when I was sad and smiled when I was happy and cheered for me when I succeeded. Instead, he wasn’t there for any of it.

There was so much potential for a happy life spent together. Now that I’m a father myself, I can’t imagine ever doing anything to jeopardize my family and what we have. And the thing is, my dad had it all: A loving wife, children who adored him, a successful business. But he chose a different life.

The frustrating part about all of this is, and despite all that I’ve said, we actually had a good relationship, considering. He accepted me whole-heartedly and never had a problem with the fact that I am gay. He loved PJ and had so much fun talking construction with him whenever we got together.

My dad was a doer, always building things and helping people out with whatever they needed. PJ is the same way, so they always bonded over their shared love of working on houses and getting things accomplished.

Because we got along so well, and for the most part, always enjoyed each other’s company, I just see the life we had as wasted potential. If he would have stayed in our lives, we could have been great together. I know it. Instead, my siblings and I spent our adolescence feeling let down whenever he wouldn’t show up, and wondering if we had done something wrong to make him leave.

When you’re young, your parents are your world and can do no wrong. When you get older, you know better. Parents are not as superhuman as you once thought, and they can make mistakes, and they often do. Kids are resilient, and they will keep coming back to you even when you don’t deserve it. So once we were older, we started to know better and we started to take measures to protect ourselves from the hurt he had caused us so frequently when we were little.

This meant less trips down to see him over the years (from now on, if he wanted to see us, he would have to find a way to come to us), less and less phone calls and texts, and less reaching out in general. When you spend your whole life waiting for someone and they never quite show up, you eventually get tired and you find ways to move on for the good of yourself and those around you. For us, it meant realizing that, as much as we wanted and needed him in our lives, he would never be a dad to us, and we had to let that idea of him go. We loved him as a person, but not as a father anymore.

I know my dad had a rough childhood, and after my parents’ divorce, his life was even harder, but I also know he had choices to make, and he made them again and again. He had so many chances given to him by everyone in his life, and he just kept making the wrong decisions. I wasn’t in his shoes, so I don’t know what he was going through, but I do know how it felt being on the receiving end of those choices, and it was excruciating at best and crushing at worst.

I have come to the conclusion that I feel the most sad about the fact that things will never get better between us now. I think a small, tiny part of me that I had buried deep inside still felt that, even though we didn’t talk and he would be in a nursing home for the rest of his life, he would one day tell me he was sorry, that he messed up and had a disease that he couldn’t fight alone and that he made mistakes but wanted to make it right now. I didn’t realize it before, but I needed some sort of closure from him, a closure that I now know I will never get. I would have loved him forever, but death is so finite and forever for him means something different for me now.

How do you mourn for a parent who has passed away when they were never there to begin with? It’s a question I’ve been asking so much lately because I need to know why I feel the way I do. How can I cry over someone, still, after 32 years of doing so, when they’re not even in my life anymore?

He was never there, but I wanted so badly for him to be, until one day I didn’t anymore. And suddenly it became normal to not talk about him, to not think about him, to not see him. He was never there, but he should have been there for us all, which I feel angry and so incredibly sad about at the same time. He was never there, but I know now it wasn’t because of me or my brother or my sisters, but because he didn’t get help for something he battled his entire life. He was never there, but I so wish he would have been to meet our children, because they’re so great and he would have loved them. He was never there, but he should have been. For all of it.

He was never there, and now, he never will be.

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