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dcxdpdabbles · 6 months

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hello hello! After a few posts of this premise I just had to say something and because you just make them come to life I just had to ask :) anyway, Danny let’s say in seriously injured by the giw or even his parents but he is reverting to his core and he goes to Clockwork to help since he’s the one he’s the most closest ghost to and kinda his guardian ghost, Clockwork sees that he himself will not be able to help forever and finds a different solution. He takes Danny’s core and makes a magic safe guard and puts his core inside in the guise of a doll like this one:

But with Danny’s coloration! He sends Danny to Gotham and ends up being picked up by Robin!Jason who thinks he’s cute and gets attached, Danny is weak but trying to gather ectoplasm but sends a sense of gratefulness to Jason who feels it but is a bit confused but happy he saved a doll. He brings it with him everywhere and takes it with him everywhere but when Jason dies and buried Danny is sat at his grave and he wakes up a little earlier with Danny and brings with him. He gets a strange attachment and feeling of safety with the doll and then is able to talk to it and Danny and him become closer and when he eventually reunites with everyone and things smooth over he feels it’s fine to bring Danny the doll to the mansion and the others realize that Jason has a haunted fucking doll and with the already thin trust they can’t do hair when Danny messes with them with moving their stuff, appearing out of nowhere, and being all around creepy but he helps Alfred so Jason has no issues and finds it funny. There are probably times where they try to dispose of it anyways but comes back completely fine and they become even warier but Danny is just having the time of his life while eating his ectoplasm while helping them with cases and finding things and such and Alfred even defends him when they try to talk Jason around about the creepy doll and is like “Did you stay at my grave 24/7 in all weather? That’s what I thought.” When Tim tries to get evidence he takes a picture of the doll all he sees is a boy around the age Jason died with pale soft blue eyes staring back with a soft smile that even if it wasn’t really creepy he still felt a chill down his spine

First of all, the photo almost gave me a heart attack. Haunted dolls terrify me (ironically, I fear ghosts.) But honestly, I love the prompt, so here you go!

Jason moves back into the manor- sort of. He's still in the middle of his hostile takeover of Crime Alley, but things are a little less stressful between the family. Maybe it was because Jason's Pit Madness was slowly disappearing, thanks to his friend Danny.

Danny was a great listener and always willing to help Jason sort through his feelings and thoughts. He was the reason that Jason chose to try to talk things out with Bruce before going through his insane idea of attacking Tim at the Titian Tower.

Which, you know, Tim was grateful he didn't actually go through with it after finding the plans in some of Jason's stuff while helping him move. The fact he wanted to wear his old Robin outfit- which would not fit on his body now- would have been beyond traumatizing enough, thank you very much.

"I know." Jason laughed as the rest of the family crowded around the plans. Even Damian seemed a bit disturbed by what was written. "Danny made me realize I didn't have the skinny legs to pull off the outfit."

Tim has never met Danny, but he has heard about him. Jason spoke about him when he followed Bruce and Jason around with his camera, which was enough for him to know Danny was likely a childhood friend.

Of course, Danny went by the code "Doll" in those days. Personally, Tim had always assumed that Jason and Danny shared a relationship that went beyond friends.

It had been another reason that Jason was his favorite Robin. If Robin could like boys, then Tim could too, and the knowledge that one of his literal heroes was like him helped Tim accept himself faster.

He never brought it up, even as Jason slowly gained control over Crime Alley as a Crime Lord- one that didn't kill because it would make Danny sad, which was another point in his secret boyfriend checkbox list.

Everything was fine- until Bruce found out about Danny.

"Jason, I thought you outgrew Danny," Bruce uttered hesitantly as Jason explained how Danny had fallen over himself when describing his Titain Tower plan.

Jason's eyes flashed green at once, and everyone in the cave grew tense.

"I will never outgrow Danny!" The second oldest barked, his neck muscles straining.

Now Tim knew that Danny was a secret, so he never brought him up despite the burning need to ask every question under the sun about him. Jason wasn't out to the rest of the family- detectives or not- that was up to Jason to decide when they would know.

He just always assumed Bruce knew since, you know, his son called his best friend Doll back when he was fourteen and running around in green spandex.

How could he not know? Did he want Jason to change his cape out for a rainbow and sing musicals at the top of his lungs on Wayne Tower?

Actually.....Jason did sing in musicals at his drama club. Honestly, Bruce was in denial.

Jason may not be out, but Tim wouldn't let Bruce bully him about his lover!

"Jason can have whatever friends he wants! And feel whatever he feels about them!" Tim snares, and that causes Dick, Damian, and Steph to bristle. They stand beside a huffing Jason, slowly coming down from his rage at the sight of support.

Cass and Alfred watch from the Batcomputer, a tension around their eyes the only sign that they, too. Bruce intelligently raises his hands in a placating manner.

"I did not mean anything wrong by that, Jason. I'm just surprised Danny still has such a strong hold on you." Bruce starts, his eyes never leaving his boy's face, even with all his other children flocking around him. "I thought Danny was lost when you died."

There is a long pause where Tim considers the words. It's a fair assumption. After all, Danny thought Jason had died and been buried. Why would he wait around after that?

Even the Bats still didn't know what caused Jason to come back. How would a civilian possibly begin to consider his boyfriend returning from the grave- or Tim assumes to be a civilian since Danny had never joined them on the field? He had to be in the know for Jason to tell him the plans comfortably.

"He waited every day, twenty-four seven at my grave," Jason tells Bruce, puffing up his chest. "He was with me when I was in a coma and when I was practically brain-dead on the streets. Hell, he was even there when the League of Assiasns brainwashed me!"

Damian jerks in surprise. He always gets taken aback by how casually Jason admits being part of the organization of his upbringing, no matter how briefly. Not even Bruce does that. "I....was unaware Daniel had been with you. I never saw him."

"Talia allowed me to have him with me just as long as I kept him tied up in my closet so he wouldn't be spotted."

Everyone but Alfred and Bruce step back, staring in horror at Jason. Tim can figure out by their reactions alone that everyone in the Bats had come to the same conclusion as he did about Danny being Jason's lover then.

After all, it's hard to hide that kind of thing from the family of detectives.

How could I have missed this? Tim thinks in dismay. Quickly, his brain runs through every time Jason has so much as hinted at Danny, trying to spot the signs that apparently his brother was abusive and honestly psychotic towards his boyfriend.

"Jason," Dick began in the same casual tone he usually used on hostile witnesses. "Where is Danny now?"

" Upstairs in my closet. He kept trying to escape, so I had to switch to chains." The responses are as easy as they are casual. Tim's stomach drops.

Quickly, he makes eye contact with Steph, who very quickly lowers her chin at him, and then his eyes flicker to the others. Damian's hands have curled, while Dick moves casually to stand behind Jason, which will make it easier to restrain him.

How long had Danny been up there? How many days and nights did he spend held against his will in the one place that should have been the safest of Gotham?

They all tense their muscles, ready to strike-

"Danny is a doll," Bruce suddenly speaks up, his eyes flickering to all of the gathered children with a wild, alarmed look. Ah, he caught on to the fact they were about to take Jason down. "A doll that Jason found in Crime Alley. Made of porcelain and fabric. Not a person."

The Bats are still eyeing their father with sharp, trained eyes, but Alfred's agreeing nod has them relaxing. Oh, thank the gods!

"Of course, Danny isn't a person," Jason replies mystified. He is unaware of how close he came to being jumped. As it were, the Bats stepped away from him as he looked around, confused. "Why would I have a person chained up in my closet?"

Bruce gets a strange, sad smile on his face. "Yes, Chum, why would you."

Tim isn't following. "If Danny is a toy-"

"A doll." Jason cuts in with a hard edge to his voice.

"Right, sorry, if Danny is a doll, why must you chain him up?"

Jason smiles. "Cause Danny runs the first chance he gets."

What?

"Danny is a haunted doll," Bruce starts, only to have Jason huff.

"No, he isn't! Danny is not haunted; he's just curious." Jason rolls his eyes. "Yeah, he never stays still, and okay, sometimes things disappear around the house, but that doesn't necessarily mean a haunting!"

"Master Jason, might I remind you that while you and Mister Danny were first living here, I caught the vacuum moving by itself?" Alfred calls. "I also remember that Mister Danny's head turned to me and followed my movement as I dusted."

"He just wanted to help you clean," Jason defends in a rather childish manner that Tim never thought he would see from someone his age. Maybe that's why Bruce was worried Danny was still around. "He's not a ghost."

"Chum, I hear laughter from your room even when you are not home." Bruce starts. "The laughing started the day you brought Danny home."

"He can tell great jokes!"

"Wait, tells jokes? Jason, does Danny talk to you? " Steph questioned, looking a tiny bit spooked. Oh yeah, she hates ghosts. Tim forgot her fear of them after living so close to the Gotham cemetery and all the nasty ghost stories surrounding it.

Jason blinks down at her, likely forgetting they were present, before considering the question. He moves his hand in a so-and-son motion. "He tries, but it sounds like fast past whispers. I have to strain to hear him."

"Jason," Dick says with an easy-going smile that belies the worry in his eyes. "That's haunting one-oh-one. You're haunted."

"No, a haunting implies that Danny is dead, which he is not. Danny is just resting until his body can reform. I think he's an alien." Jason taps his chin. "He told me before that his species are the conscious manifestation of ectoplasm but that their souls are within a small core, they can retreat to when badly injured. Danny was really hurt, so he's taking a while to reform."

Bruce's strained smile becomes tighter. "We can have Zatanna or Consitine take a look at him. They might-"

"I'll blow your fucking head off if you try it, old man" Jason's eyes were a bright green, an animistic sneer at his lips, and bloodlust was thick in the air. The abrupt change makes Tim wonder if he has passed out and missed the trigger.

Bruce sighs. "Of course, Jason. Why don't you show everyone, Danny? I think it's time they meet him."

Jason beams, shooting up the stairs to go get his doll. Everyone watches him go, and until they are sure he can not hear them, they burst into conversation.

"Jason is definitely haunted!" Dick despairs, throwing himself dramatically on a nearby chair. "We need to do something! Get it away from him."

"We will do no such thing," Alfred huffs. "Mister Danny is a fine young ghost who helps Master Jason. It would be unwise to separate them."

"As much as I hate to admit it, even Dinah claims that the two are good for each other." Bruce says, likely unhappy that Black Canary used her therapy license against him, "Apparently, Danny is Jason's support doll."

Before anyone can say anything else, Jason races down the stairs with a broad smile. In his hands is a beautiful porcelain doll with black fabric hair, a fine little king suit made from expensive material, and a pretty painted face.

Its green glass eyes- colored to seem almost watery- seemed to stare into everyone's soul as Jason held him up for the room to see. Danny had no facial expression- not even a smile, just a soft, relaxed neural set of features that were popular in the era he was likely made in, but the eyes held emotions.

There was definitely something intelligent and aware in them.

Tim shuddered.

"Oh, Tim, can you take our picture? It's Danny's first time in the cave, and I want to commemorate the date!" Jason suddenly asks, rocking on his heels like he used to do as Robin. Tim wonders if Danny was doing that to him- reverting him to a child-like mind.

If so, was that a good thing? Should he let it keep happening?

"Sure, Jason," He says, instead picking up his camera that he had taken on patrol. He aims his lends, trying to find the perfect lighting as his older brother quickly holds the doll up in his arms, allowing it' head to be at the same level as his face.

Tim snaps the picture, but when he looks at the screen, a shiver runs down his spine, and it takes all his training not to scream.

Jason's smirk is not out of place for his hulky form. He takes up most of the frame, but where Danny the doll is, there is a faint outline of another person. A teenager, maybe a year younger than Jason, with pretty features, a copy of the beauty in Jason's arms, but much more human, yet not human, is smiling at the camera.

He's about a head shorter than Jason, but even with the softness of his smile, Tim has never been more creeped out in his life.

Jason is definitely haunted.

"How did it come out?" Jason asks as Danny's doll head turns to look at Damian. The younger boy imminently moved back, hiding behind Bruce. The doll's eyes followed him, almost amused by the boy's actions.

"G-good." Tim stammers. Steph is already racing for the safety of Bruce's cape, joining Damian. "Danny is beautiful."

Jason pauses, tilting his head as if hearing something, eyes flickering down to his right where the teenager ghost stood for the picture, and then grins.

"Of course he means it." Jason's ears turn pink as he admits, "I also think you're the most gorgeous person I've ever met."

Okay, Jason is definitely being haunted by someone he might have a crush on. That's....something Bruce has to deal with because Tim is the younger brother, not the dad, and thank god for that.

He might be wrong, but he gets the sense that the doll is blushing even though nothing changes.

It's not my circus and will never be my monkies. Tim thinks racing to Bruce's cape is a good idea as well. He is scared to be out here in the open like Dick and Cass.

Those two might be okay with being haunted, but Tim isn't. Just in case, he'll have to steer clear of the manor for a few days.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Jason's Doll #Dead on Main #Yes Danny is laughing that the big bad bats are scared of him #Jason saw Danny's real form in his dreams #Ghost can reach you there #Bruce is like #“Son please let me buy you a toy that's not ghost-infected. Come on you're eighteen now”#Cass and Dick think it's a sweet love story #Tim's pov

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vamphrrr · 3 months

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Hi!! i loved your tough love fanfic of clarisse! so i decided to ask if you can make a clarisse la rue , (aphrodite child) reader, but she’s not some normal teenager… she’s a princess if you get what im saying??? lets say that aphrodite dated a princess and had a child with him before she left, and so that’s where reader grew up, no one knew that the reader was a princess u til she told clarisse, she was really worried clarisse was gonna hate her but clarisse is like “Woah me mad at you? no way” and clarisse supports her! (Including some kissing, flirting, it would be super nice if the reader was shorter the clarisse probably up to her chest like in the tough love fanfic!)

notes ; omgggg this is so cute!! i’m so glad u liked my last fic i was nervous about posting 😭. also i’ll be making clarisse call reader princess too now knowing SHE IS ONE! they’re already dating in this. i used the same banner bc i’m too lazy to create new ones based on plot LMAO. i wrote this so soon but sometimes if anyone requests it might take me a couple of days bc of school and stuff! think i went a little overboard with this one. i should probably start counting how much i write lol.

%% are you mad?

in which your super attractive girlfriend finds out the secret you’ve been hiding from her for so long. also, she accidentally meets your dad.

— clarisse la rue x f!aphrodite!reader

warnings ; reader has doubts, tall & buff clarisse / short reader (again), flirty!clarisse flirty!clarisse, a little angst?, kissing, two swear words, flustered reader (oh how the turned tables), ooc clarisse? (i’m never sure if i write her right), one suggestive thought in the first paragraph (nothing happened tho!). a little too much background i think… too much father, did my daddy issues come out? made reader’s dad a king bc plot reasons, maybe more emotional than requested srry😭

You couldn’t believe you were doing this. Sneaking off from your girlfriend’s warm bed in the middle of the night. For a minute, you wondered how’d that look to anyone watching. A girl hastily running from a cabin that she very obviously did not belong in, a long shirt —it was Clarisse’s— accompanied by small shorts, (which were not visible might you add). Oh and how could you forget, you were barefoot. Who’s bright idea was that? Oh, yeah, yours. Why?

Gods were you cold. Should’ve brought a jacket, you thought.

The bottom of your feet hurt, stepping on rocks and sticks and who knows what else would do that to you. Next time, you would definitely bring hiking boots or something. And a jacket. In the forest, you were far away from anybody that might disturb you. Pulling Clarisse’s shirt up until your shorts were visible, you dug your hand inside the pocket, meeting with a drachma. You approached the round well, splashing water mist being met with sunlight from below, creating a rainbow.

How? It was the middle of the night. Why was the sun inside? You decided not to think about it.

This well was old, dirty from not being used much. See, not many people knew about it. Apparently, it was for those that needed to talk to somebody reallyyyy privately, that’s why it was hidden in the forest, only appearing at night. You weren’t sure how that worked, but you stumbled upon it a couple of years back when you were being chased by wood nymphs for being out at night. They found you, obviously. Punishment was not escapable and you ended up having to clean the stables the day after you got your nails done. Yuck.

Now here you were again, this being the only place where you could speak to your father without anyone finding you. It’s not that you were embarrassed of him per say, it was that you really didn’t want anyone to know that you were a royal. I mean, how ironic was that? A daughter of Aphrodite, a Princess? Forget it. You’d get made fun of for the rest of your life. You especially didn’t want Clarisse to know. She was your girlfriend yes, and this was something very important that you needed to tell her about, but you weren’t sure how’d she react. You knew she wouldn’t make fun of you like others would, but you didn’t know if dating a literal Princess was too much of a deal breaker for her.

Being with a royal was too stressful, there was so much that they’d get criticized for and so little people that they’d be accepted by. Your dad was a King with many past lovers, Aphrodite included. The people loved her, I mean, who wouldn’t? But then she was gone, disappearing the same night she gave birth to you. Your dad knew of her, of this. He knew she’d be gone by the time the sun rose. Yet, he did nothing. Who was he, than just a mortal man? He could not stop a goddess from leaving.

He got with others after that, your dad had a lot of love to give. Maybe that was something that attracted your mother to him. Public lovers were not taken well, the people respected the King, sure, they just didn’t respect his partners. Constant judging, constant eyes following their every move, constant hatred being thrown, constant stress on their shoulders. In the end, they could never take it. Running away or completely disappearing seemed to be something they all had in common. Your father had to give up on love, small secret romances blossomed for a while, but never enough for it to go public.

That is why you were so scared to tell Clarisse of your status. She was smart, she’d realize being with you would not be worth the hassle. She’d leave you just like everyone else left your father. Clarisse was the love of your life, you don’t think you’d be able to handle it if she left.

You threw the drachma in, calling for the rainbow goddess to let you see your father.

“Dad,” you said, once the back of his head was visible.

He jumped, turning around. “Oh! My dearest daughter, you scared me.” He laughed a bit, looking at you with such soft eyes it almost made you cry. “Why are you Iris messaging me at this hour? Isn’t it time for you to be resting?”

You swallowed, a sudden knot appearing in your throat. “I just needed someone to talk to.” Playing with the ring around your finger that Clarisse gave you for your one year anniversary, you choked out. “I have this amazing girlfriend, she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me here at camp and—” You stopped talking, taking a small breath, not noticing the familiar figure of Clarisse standing a couple of feet behind you. “—and I’m scared to tell her that I’m not who she thinks I am. That I’m not this girl that just so happens to be a daughter of Aphrodite. I love her so much and I want to tell her about you. I want to bring her to you in person because I want the two people I love the most to meet. But how do I do that when I haven’t even told her I’m a Princess and that the only way you two could meet is if I took her to our royal palace?”

Your father widened his eyes, not expecting his little girl to burst out her feelings just like that. He sighed, glancing behind your shoulder. “If this girl you love so much really loves you like you do her, she wouldn’t care about your status.” Staring at who he assumed was your girlfriend behind you, he continued. “She wouldn’t care that you hid this from her. Instead, she’d try to see it from your point of view.” Moving his eyes away from Clarisse, he looked at you, eyes squinting in light mischief. “You should tell her, she’ll understand. I love you.” Is all he said, before he was gone.

You’re left staring at a rainbow, your dad nowhere in sight. Suddenly, a branch broke from behind you. Turning around quickly, heart beating rapidly, you’re met with the eyes of your girlfriend. You immediately let out a gasp, not knowing she was there.

Clarisse speaks up. “You’re a Princess?”

You felt your mouth dry up. With wide eyes, you respond. “Please don’t hate me! I didn’t know how to tell you!” Walking closer to her, you reached your hands out, grabbing one of her own with both of yours. “Please, you have to understand. I didn’t want this to ruin us.”

She stayed silent.

Silence was haunting, especially coming from Clarisse, someone who was always provoking people and boasting loudly everywhere. You gulped, with lips shaking you asked, “A-are you mad?”

She lets out a huff. Was something funny? Was she annoyed? Angry? Did she not care at all? Those were the questions running through your mind. You’d find out the answers soon enough.

“Woah,” she shook her head, letting you see the slight amused smile on her face. “Me? Mad at you? No fucking way.” She reached her free hand towards your face, moving away the strand of hair that fell slightly over your eye. “It just… surprised me s’ all.”

You let out a breath, relaxing and putting your head against her chest. “Thank the gods, I thought you were going to break up with me or something.”

Reaching out again, she placed her forefinger below your chin, raising your head to meet her eyes. “How could I ever break up with someone so beautiful?” She leaned down, your lips grazing against each other’s. “Why would I leave when I can now be your knight in shining armor?” Closing the distance, your eyes fluttered shut. Butterflies were in your stomach just like the first time you two ever kissed. Without your lips separating, she put one arm around your waist, the other grabbing below your thighs, hoisting you up.

“Ah!” you screamed, separating your lips, not expecting it.

Clarisse smirked, seeing you get flustered. “You don’t have any shoes on.” You pouted, putting your arms around her neck so you wouldn’t fall while she walked back (not that she would let you fall off in the first place). “Didn’t think I’d notice, did you, princess?” Teasingly, she used the pet name, now knowing how much truth was behind it.

You whined, pressing your face against her neck. “You’re so unfair. I’m supposed to be the one flustering you.”

“Awe, the princess is mad,” she cooed, letting her lips touch the tip of your ear. “You want me to get on one knee and apologize?”

Clarisse laughed when you let out a loud groan, hitting her lightly on the chest. Smiling, she knew the only way she’d ever leave you was if she was six feet under. And even then, she’d find a way to get back to the land of the living just to be by your side.

The only things heard in the dead of night were the grasshoppers, chirping their little melodies into the darkness. That was until you muttered sleepily, letting out a yawn. “I love you.”

Clarisse repeated after you. “I love you.” Feeling your eyes fluttered close, she followed it with an almost silent “goodnight.”

Now that you were asleep, she felt panic slowly rise, steps quickening to reach the Ares cabin faster. She could only think about two things now.

Holy shit, she’s a Princess. Oh my gods, I met her dad.

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melonpiemelon · 10 months

Text

STARB⟡Y

Miguel O’Hara x Reader

summary: After a sweet little coffee date, Miguel takes reader back to their place to bang it out

warnings: 18+, smut, afab reader, no use of y/n, p in v, breeding kink, biting, kinda rough sex, horny Miguel

Pls correct me if the Spanish is dumb

Read on ao3

_________________________________

A slow wave of cool air breezes through the city, pushing past the crowds of people and strangers lingering on the sidewalk. You feel a chill run through your neck as the wind brushes your shoulders and seeps into your skin. The shadow underneath your feet fades away and blends into the steps outside the courthouse that you were standing on.

Your neck bends as you roll your shoulders back, looking up at the sky to notice gray clouds gathering together in the sky when you stretch out your back.

For the last three hours you’ve been sitting on a stale plastic chair listening but not really listening in on the mock trial you were asked to oversee when the representative defense attorney couldn’t show up.

It was a really simple ass case but you’ll never get those three hours of your life back. It started out as a quick trip to the office to send in the terms and conditions or whatever the fuck they’re called that lays out the details and consent forms of the next deal you’ll be doing with your client, to a mind numbingly long sit through of a liability case due to another fucking avenger absolutely demolishing some property. Fuck doing favors and fuck the avengers.

Maybe you should’ve taken Miguel up on his proposal of just dropping that shit off in the mail and skipping that meeting with your superior. Now you were drained of energy for the rest of the day and had the worst case of the munchies. Pregnancy wrecked your palate but at least you don’t crave weird shit like peanut butter on cucumbers.

You moaned to yourself after coming to terms with the fact you’ll have to drive again. Driving also took energy. That you don’t have. If you didn’t have to at least try looking like a normal human you would use your webs to swing through these streets and plop your ass down on someone’s comfy rooftop couch, but unfortunately for you, there was still the issue of keeping up public appearances.

Pretty ironic how you were a lawyer who broke the law everyday because of your work as a vigilante but honestly you weren’t one to care about the law unless it was able to be used to protect other people.

Walking out into the streets was always nerve wracking. You clutched the leather satchel at your side and put on your best “don’t fuck with me” face that always made strangers stay in their lane. It’s not that you were worried about someone mugging you or something (you could easily handle it), you just didn’t want to waste any more time. And New York often seemed to have at least one of those mother fuckers throughout the day that tried some bullshit.

Luckily for you, when you reached your car nothing was amiss and no one almost got robbed. It’s like the universe was rewarding you for the hard work it just put you through.

You opened the door to your green Mercedes Benz and sat down with a little shake. You felt like you could finally breathe for a second. All your work was done and after today you had two more free days to yourself. It was amazing. The thought of your upcoming date with Miguel sent butterflies to your stomach and you had to physically restrain yourself from squealing.

You checked the watch on your wrist that every person from the spider society also has, and went to see if you had any messages from your lover.

From: Miguel

Meet you at the coffee shop you like?

Whenever you’re done of course.

Your cheeks burned from the stretch of how hard you were smiling. He could read you like a book, and that coffee shop, your favorite coffee shop, had exactly the things you were craving and you jumped at the chance to eat there every time.

From: You

Yeah just got done!

See you there in 20? :))

From: Miguel

On My Way!

From: You

Miguel’s autocorrect made you chuckle a little after he sent his text. You checked your mirror and blind spots to make sure there wasn’t anyone around before you backed out of the parking spot.

It was a nice drive to the coffee shop that was located not too far away from your home. Definitely not walking distance but spiderwoman doesn’t need to walk anyways. It was perfect. It was vegan friendly, lgbtq owned, and poc owned. Pretty much couldn’t ask for more.

Oh wait you can.

This quaint shop also had cats. Fucking cats. It was a goddamn cat cafe. Customers were allowed to pet the lil kitties when they came to them and sometimes able to feed them. Yeah they were a bit fat but these cats were adorable as all hell. And Miguel loves cats. Whether he’ll admit it or not. They are similar in some ways.

At home it’s always funny to see him interacting with your black sphinx cause they have a love-hate relationship with one another. Sometimes they’ll cuddle but then Vader will give Miguel the hardest death glare when he steals all the attention from you. Miguel is no different though. He pouts when you ignore him to love up on your cat.

The cafe is also a fond reminder of the bond you two share as well. The first time an anomaly entered your world it made a mess of the block and the cafe got turned upside down due to the glitches. But the overwhelming amount of pressure that was on your shoulders got lifted by his appearance. He came barreling through his unknown portal and instantly got to work repressing the threat and fixing the timeline of what you soon would come to learn as “canon”. Upon seeing another person just like you, the connection was immediate. He looked at you through his dark blue and red mask and didn’t even have to ask the question. You were going with him, high on your admiration and enthusiasm for a new adventure. The two of you stood in front of the cafe and didn’t look back.

When you walked in you were greeted by a familiar face. You were a regular so the person at the register was elated to see you and welcomed you back with a smile then winked and pointed in the direction of the nearest window seat. There you saw Miguel, lost in thought while peering into the outside, looking magnificent as fuck in the style of your world. He had on a loose black button down with sleeves coming to his elbows and a collar that hung low and exposed the fine expanse of his chest. His pants were some pale blue denim jeans with a black belt that fit snug but wrapped around his waist perfectly and made you drool dreaming about what his ass looked like from behind. Fuck you’d have to praise Lyla later for equipping him in this slutty ass outfit.

Someone behind you coughed accusingly and you got pulled out of the mythical sight of your lover and went back to ordering a quick raspberry ice tea. Honestly you weren’t phased from being called out for your gawking, it just pissed you off that no one else seemed to care about his absolute beauty. Like, if you weren’t already dating him you are certain that you wouldn’t be able to keep your eyes off him. But it’s not surprising that no one else seemed to care, considering the people who frequent this shop, and not gonna lie, the only ones who can afford it, are stuck up arrogant motherfuckers who probably visit their plastic surgeons more often than their mothers.

After you got your large drink you beelined to where he was sitting, thank god he chose a booth, and slid right up beside him, basically leaving no space between you two. It was weird how he didn’t notice you yet and the look of surprise on his face when you wrapped your arm around his and leaned on him, had you giggling.

“Hola, no te vi entrar. When did you get here?” He takes his arms from your hold and places it on your waist, pulling you in closer so he can kiss your forehead.

“Not too long ago.” You lay your weight on his chest, molding softly against his hard body. “How long were you waiting for me?” His fingers fidget with the belt loops around your waist, abstimindely keeping you within his touch. His other hand sat atop the table, holding a warm coffee cup.

“Only for a couple of minutes.”

“You seemed like you were in your own world when I walked in. What were you thinking about?” Your eyes meet his brown ones, the same eyes that looked at you with so much love last night, right now are shining with an even stronger passion.

“Us.”

“Oh yeah? Was Lyla too much for you today? Aww did you miss me?”

“No eres mejor que ella, pero…sí. I did miss you.” He turns and looks away to hide the faint blush that was growing on his face. You laugh and put your hands on his cheek, moving him back so you can make eye contact with him.

“Hey it’s alright, between the two of us, I think we both had a pretty exhausting day.” You softly pressed your lips to the side of his mouth and the faint scent of coffee made its way into your nostrils. He grabs a hold on one of your hands and squeezes it. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

He takes a shortened breath in when you kiss him and before you could break the moment, he’s using his large hand to hold your neck and tilt your chin up to fully embrace his mouth over yours. You easily melt against him and he further entices you to keep moving against him, his lips pushing all the way against yours and his tongue prodding gently at the entrance into your mouth. You accept him instantly and the taste of the sweetener he used in his coffee dances on your taste buds when your tongues meet and tangle with each other. He was consuming you with his fervor and you disregarded the fact you couldn’t breathe. The feeling of affection that coursed through your veins heightened when he pulled away and traced your swollen and plump lips with his thumb. He looked down at you with hooded eyes and ran his tongue over his fangs that were retracted. You felt a rush of excitement at the sight and pulled him in for another kiss to drown in. He didn’t hesitate to engulf you once again but you noticed he was holding himself back to not knick you with the sharpness of his fangs. This made you smirk into the kiss and gently take his bottom lip with your teeth and wrap your hands around his neck and trail your fingers at the base of his hairline. He groaned into your mouth and pulled back to let you get some air.

“Mierda, you make me lose control so easily.” He whispered into your mouth and gave you another kiss on your lips. Finalizing the moment when he pulled away and ran his finger down the side of your face and he pressed his forehead against yours. His shoulders raised as he inhaled your scent, grounding himself in the present moment. His eyes closed, trying to take in all that he could sense, especially the part of your signature that had the same flowery essence of your guys daughter.

“Did you eat anything yet?” You ask him when his eyes open back up to regard you with adoration.

He shakes his head. And you smile and take out your wallet.

“Imma go get a sandwich or something. Want anything?”

He glances over to the menu for a moment, then returns to you with a nod. “Mm I’ll try the chickpea Buddha bowl.”

“Kay, I’ll be back in a bit. Te amo!” You give his thigh a squeeze and slip out the booth with a warm smile to get back in line.

He watches intensely at you from behind while you walk away, looking at your full hips and legs as they move gracefully from one place to the next. Testing himself to see how long he can stare at your ass before getting called a creep. It all makes his hands clench into fists. The flavor of your tea still sat in his mouth after your kisses, and he shamefully thought of something else that would taste sweet on his tongue right now.

He needed you so bad and it was taking all of his willpower to hold back from popping a semi. He was so focused in the process of directing his blood anywhere else that he forgot about how that would look to others. So when you returned with the food and an eyebrow raised he was speechless.

“The fuck you looking like that for?” You laugh and sit right next to him again. On the tray you had a blt avocado melt with some chips, and the bowl right next to it. You handed his food over with the silverware and he shoved a bite into his mouth pretty quickly to avoid saying anything. “Lookin like you're about to shit yourself.”

He narrows his eyes at you and takes another bite. You just smirk and hit your elbow with his and dig in to your own meal. “Mmm fuck” you say inbetween bites. Moaning at the deliciousness of the food. Lost in your own world of sensation.

He stares at you agape, not believing the sounds he’s hearing coming from your mouth over food. He feels his dick twitch in his pants but ignores it to put all his attention on his own food, drowning out your noises and focusing solely on the motions of eating. He was robotic at this point. Nodding his head and saying a few “mhms” whenever you would give a quip about something.

“Miguel, did you even hear me?” You’ve stopped eating and are starting right at him. Face serious and waiting for his reply.

He can’t make eye contact with you and goes to take a drink of his coffee but his escape was stopped by the emptiness of the cup and the bowl.

He turns his head slowly and meets your eyes, praying he doesn’t look too guilty.

Wrong.

You roll your eyes and sigh heavily. Eyes piercing into his. “As I was saying, I think you should add this shops macaroons to the spider society cause they’re fucking delicious. Honestly it would be super cute or whatever, like think about it. Spiderman flavored macaroons!” You beam at him and he sits there confused on how your mood changed so quickly. He thought he was a dead man earlier for sure. But when he realizes what you were talking about he laughs out loud.

“Spiderman flavored macaroons?” He looks at you with disbelief.

“Yeah! I mean it’s not unreasonable considering we have Miguel burgers already.” You shrug.

“Hold on, what?” He stops in his tracks.

“Oh shit you didn’t know?” You place a hand on your mouth and chuckle into it. He looks at you beyond confused and tries to make sense of what you just said.

“Sooo there’s these burgers in the cafeteria. Annnd they have your design on them. Not my idea by the way. But they’re actually really good.” You explain.

“I can’t believe no one ever informed me about this.” He shakes his head.

“Well you do sit alone in that lab religiously.”

“Okay but how do you expect them to make spiderman flavored macaroons? It sounds so ridiculous.”

“I don’t know, have them be strawberry flavored or something. And red?”

“You’re insane.”

“You love me.”

He sighs and kisses your hand. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good because I might have already started a petition and got the chefs in on it.”

He looks at you in awe and laughs to himself. “Should’ve expected that from the start.”

He brings you closer to his side again and watches as you finish your food. The sun was starting to set over the city and the sky crowned a beautiful red dome over them. The neon signs from the surrounding buildings were beginning to glow and the low jazz music of the cafe played smoothly throughout the shop.

“Gods I’m full.” You lean your head back and pat your stomach. “You get enough to eat?” You ask him. He was built like a fridge so you thought a simple bowl probably wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him.

“Mhm. Vegan bowls provide a lot of healthy protein.”

“Ah I see. Well good. Cause you’ll need your stamina for later. Let’s go.” You give him a wink and stand up, your keys jingling and begin to walk out to the car. His eyes go wide and his legs scramble up to follow you.

His body hums in anticipation, knowing exactly what you meant. And he wishes his pants weren’t so god damn tight because sooner than later he will be uncomfortably straining against them.

“Gracias.” He says when you hold the door for him. Intentionality staying back a few paces to stare at his phat ass.

“Where are you parked?” He looks over his shoulder to you, placing a hand on his small waist. You bite your lip and look up at him, delighting in the way his adams apple bob.

“Around the corner. Here, you drive.” Tossing him the keys, they fly in the air for a couple seconds and easily fall into the palm of his hand. You catch up to him and walk in place at his side, interlocking your fingers and leaning on the large muscles of his arms.

“Right here.” You point at the area you parked in and take off to get into the passenger's seat and plug in your aux. You started playing “moments in love” when Miguel entered and adjusted the seat and mirror.

When you guys got onto the street he was focused on driving and the sight of his profile glowing from the sun illuminated him and you were so enraptured by his beauty that you missed the moment when he moved his arm from the shift, to your thigh.

You looked down at the hand that had sneakily found its way onto you and started gently rubbing your muscles through your pants. Your face got hot and a chill shot down your spine. You resisted looking at his smug face to not feed his ego as he teased you.

The people lingering on the streets outside started becoming very interesting to you, when a bump in the road caused his hand to ride up higher on your thigh, explicitly close to your clothed heat. And he showed no signs of moving it back.

“Seven more minutes.” He said plainly and tapped the steering wheel. Your thighs clenched together unintentionally and it made your breath hitch. You two would be home soon. But his teasing made it feel like those seven minutes would be an eternity.

You tried sitting patiently but he kept squeezing your thigh, even through your efforts of keeping his hand still. Your breathing was becoming ragged and music in the background pounded in your ears and the bass thrummed in your chest as it got louder.

The car pulled into the complex’s parking garage and when Miguel shut the engine down, you got out as quickly as possible, loudly shutting the door behind you, but he was quicker. Already on your side and slamming you into the side of the car, it shook with the impact of your bodies and you moaned loudly when he pressed himself into your ass and grabbed your hips, clawing at their sides to untuck your shirt and feel the soft mound of your plush stomach.

“Fuck-” You exhaled and felt his hot tongue against the side of your neck. Sucking harshly on the skin.

He pulled down at the collar of your shirt, exposing your shoulder to the cool air and biting down, breaking the skin in the process. He let out a throaty groan and you could feel him straining against his jeans behind you. His fangs dripped with their venom but you could care less because his bite was harmless to you and only further served as a building factor of your lust.

“Mig-Miguel, inside.” You said through gasps. As needy as you are right now, you don’t want to traumatize your neighbors or random pedestrians.

He licked your shoulder where he bit and lapped up the small amount of blood that leaked out. He then used his force to turn you around and kiss you ravishingly.

He sucked your face like candy and it left you panting. Desperate for more of his touch as you stood in place and saw the bloodshot color of his eyes.

“Come on.” He takes you by the wrist and drags you to your door, pinning you again at the door, mouth on you once more and hands full of your ass. You in return had a fist full of his hair and dug your nails into his back.

He almost broke the door while unlocking it and turned to close it, not wasting any time to get back to you. In his rush he picked you up and set you on the counter.

“You are so gorgeous today my love.” Miguel said and tossed the keys and threw the blazer off your shoulders, immediately pressing his face into your chest and kissing down your stomach.

“Me? Fuck, do you even realize how insanely hot you look in those clothes.” You breathed hard as he undid the buttons to your shirt and moved his hand underneath the clothing, cupping your breast and kissing your neck, marking more hickies to bloom and admire later.

You moaned when he licked at a particular sensitive spot and released your boobs from their constraints. Your nipples pebbled hard at the exposure to the air and Miguel dived back down into your chest to take one into his mouth. A wave of pleasure shot straight to your core as he alternated between both nipples, sucking hard and biting gently, making sure he didn’t puncture your breasts with his fangs.

You squeezed his waist that was slotted in between your legs to signal that you wanted more. Needed more. He wasn’t going fast enough for you after you spent all day waiting in anticipation for this.

“Hurry the fuck up.” You whined and slid your hand down his chest to his waist. Pulling him up to kiss you.

“Patience mi amor.” He entered your mouth hastily and pushed against your tongue but before you could make it deeper he left you with a trail of spit and pushed you farther back onto the counter.

He grabbed a hold of your waist and pulled hard. The black pants you were wearing slid right down off your ankles easily and he hurriedly placed himself back in between your thighs and kissed the sensitive area within your thighs that made you shake, but he gripped you tightly, claws retracted and poking at your smooth skin to make sure you don’t move.

“Oh shit.” You breathe out when you feel him getting closer to your core. He throbs in his pants when he notices the dark spot on your panties, showing how wet you are for him already. He breathes hotly over your cunt and before you can predict it, he puts his mouth over you, licking into the lace and salivating over the slight taste of you he can get from that.

He pushes them to the side and licks expectantly up your pussy, swallowing the juices and moaning at the flavor. He makes sure to avoid your clit for now and uses his tongue to enter you. The foreign prod of his appendage makes you jolt and whimper loudly. He looks up to see you watching with lust as he eats you out. His mouth glistened with your essence and he looked like a man dying of thirst as he drank from your pussy. Moving his tongue back and forth against your tight walls and adding a thick finger into the mix. He had to use his other hand to push down on your stomach to keep your hips from bucking up into him and the more you moaned and cried, the further it stirred him on. He lifts his head for a second, tongue darting against his lips, chin wet with your slick, and smiles to himself when he rips your panties apart. Eager to see your lower half in its entirety. You were too blown out with pleasure to care, and when he finally put his tongue on your sensitive bud, you screamed, calling out his name and pulling on his hair roughly.

He groaned at the feel of your nails digging into his scalp, urging him to swallow you harder. The sweet sounds of ecstasy coming from you rang in his ears like his favorite song. He kept flicking his tongue against your clit and shoved two fingers inside, fucking you with his hand at a pace that made you see stars. Your walls stretched at the intrusion of his large fingers and fluttered against him. He was breaking you at the seams and your voice raised an octave at the incoming threat of your climax.

You tried to say something but could only squeeze his head with your thighs and stutter “I-I-I…” before crashing into oblivion and shaking intensely with the strong wave of pleasure.

“That’s it, good.” He praises and removes his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth and licking the juices clean. You breathe hard and watch as he makes eye contact with you while tasting your come off his fingers. Your pussy clenched around nothing and craved to be filled again. Miguel leaned down and put his hand on the counter to kiss your face and force open your mouth to make you taste yourself on him, salty with a sweet tang to it.

“Can you come for me again sweetheart?” He says into your ear and drags you back down the counter to flip you around onto your stomach. You heard the sound of his belt unbuckling before you could nod your head in response. “Fuck, you’re magnificent.” He breathily says when you perk your ass up for him and reach underneath to spread yourself open.

“Please Miguel. Now.” You look back over your shoulder and watch as he grunts and grabs your ass, lining himself up against you while coating his hard long dick in your wetness spreading himself against your folds.

He moaned loudly as he pressed against you and slowly entered. Stretching you thin and making you wail as you take the tip of his thick cock.

He bottoms out and leans over your back to kiss in between your shoulder blades, rubbing the sides of your hips gently before beginning to thrust. He breathes in through his teeth at how tight your cunt is clenching against him. “Fuck- you take me so well.” He moans.

Your hips hit the counter and the fat on your ass jiggles with the recoil of his heavy and powerful thrusts that pick up in speed. Your nails scratch against the counter top and your mouth is open from the constant moaning he is causing. The sounds of skin slapping each other fill the room as he continues pounding into you from behind, whispering praises of how good you are through grunts.

His grip on your waist is deadly and you’re sure it’s gonna bruise in the morning but his dick is too divine with the way it’s moving inside you, molding your insides to the shape of him and hitting your g-spot every now and then. He fucked you ruthlessly, using both his hands to pile drive into you and slap your ass.

“Such a needy fucking cunt.” He increased the pace of his thrusts and you tried to sloppily keep up with the pace by pushing your hips back into him but he ignored that and kept a hold on your hips, forcing you onto his dick like his own personal cocksleeve. “Begging me to fill it up with my come. Is that what you want, querida?”

“Yes.” You say softly, eyes closed and exhausted from how hard he was fucking you.

“Say it.” He slaps your ass hard, leaving a red palm mark and soothing it with his hand immediately afterwards.

“Fuck- yes! I want it.” He grabbed your chin and turned your neck to make you look him in the eye, cracking it in the process, the joints popping loudly at the rough movements.

“Want what?” He didn’t stop thrusting inside you and you whimpered at the intensity of his gaze. Moaning at the feel of veins dragging against you.

“Want you to- to come inside.” He smirks and releases your face, throwing his head back as he focuses on the feeling of your wet pussy enveloping him from all around.

“That’s right mami. You've been so good for me. So so good.” He moans and moves a hand down to rub at your clit, your reaction was evident in the spike in your voice and the way you clenched so hard you almost shoved him out. “Fuck.”

You bite your hand to keep from screaming as his hips slap roughly against your ass and his fingers swirl around your sensitive clit.

“Gonna fuck another baby into you-shit!” He grunts out and his thrusts become erratic as he gets closer to finishing, the heat of your walls clouds his mind as the stutter of your folds against him edge him and he increases the speed of his hand to make you come first.

“Yesyesyesyes!” You say in between moans and roll your eyes back. “Miguel, I'm so close!”

He pants heavily behind you and you become undone when he thrusts particularly hard against that one spot deep inside you, sliding against it and hitting your womb. His cock twitched inside you as you came and squeezed him tightly. The rush he felt made him increase his thrusts and he pounded hard against you, voice choking up in between moans as you came down from your high and milked his dick with your pussy.

He presses his chest against your back and buries himself deeply. “m-me estoy viniendo” he releases inside you and you feel the wet warmth spill within you as he coats your walls and breathes heavily against your ear.

He kisses the side of your face sweetly, pushing some loose strands of your hair behind your ear and whimpers when you clench around him again.

He leans on his arm to put some of his weight off of you as the both of you catch your breath.

Your limbs are weak and muscles sore when he pulls out of you. The counter being the only thing holding you upright until he takes you into his arms, carrying you to the bed and setting you down gently. His seed trickles out of you onto the sheets and he moves into the bathroom to bring back a cloth and clean you up. Wiping off the sweat on your body and the mess in between your legs carefully to not overstimulate you.

You lean back on the pillow and reach over for him. He smiles and pulls the blankets over your bodies then wraps an arm around you, closing his eyes and kissing your cheek and resting his head on your shoulder.

“I love you.”

“I love you too mi corazòn”

#miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara #across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #miguel x you #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara smut #oscar isaac #miguel o'hara

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draguuula · 1 year

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TAKE MY EYES.

synopsis: mammon tries to verbally tell you he appreciates you. kinda angst but full of soft comfort for all my therapist mcs. wrote this when i was at school and just finished... Σ(×_×;)! not proofread... again.

golden flecks drowning in an azul pool glanced at your form from across the picnic table. you had chosen to sit outside despite the slight chilly breeze as it was peaceful and quiet in contrast to the usual bustling atmosphere inside of the R.A.D. cafeteria.

his eyes searched your form with your back turned to him whilst you hummed in thought to yourself, thinking of what snack to get from the vending machine. he squinted harder. why did he feel so strongly about you? it wasn't even the sappy need to wrap you in his arms, he noted, no - not like the dramas he watched with satan and asmodeus. at least, not just that.

his features softened as he looked down at his hands with a thoughtful gaze. he just wanted oh so badly to let you see yourself the way he saw you with his own eyes.

the way your eyes would light up at seeing even the smallest or cheapest phone charm to match with him, or the way you would grin at him and his brother's antics whenever there was always some curse or mystery happening around the house of lamentation...

he wanted to protect that peace you brought to him - he needed to.

you noticed him awfully silent as you stalked back over to your shared table, and he only noticed your presence once you slunk back into your seat. no words had to be spoken as a heavy silence lingered in the air. all day, he had stayed uncharacteristically quiet just like now, lost in thought; a sort of epiphany, if you will.

"mammon, i'm here if you want to talk."

"that's the issue," he responded a bit too quickly, his cheek pressed against his palm as he huffed. he rested his elbow on the wooden table and glanced to his right at the wild ivy clinging to the sides of the R.A.D. building, anything to avoid your confused gaze. your never-ending understanding, caring, and compassionate gaze.

"you're always ready to talk," he sighed after a silent interval, furrowing his brows as a shadow downcast over his eyes. he seemed to be rather frustrated with something, his white lashes fluttering (ironically) heavenly over his cheekbones before he closed his eyes. it was only then as you took in his discontented appearance that you noticed a tint of blush highlighting his cheeks ever the slightest.

"...yes? is that not what one does to hold a conversation?" you cheekily responded, shooting him a closed eyed smile. at that, he opened his eyes and finally stared at you directly. the eye contact was fierce, and you wondered what his determination behind that look was.

"i'm serious, y/n. why... why don't ya ever talk about yourself, huh? yer always going on and on about wanting to be there for us, but... ya never... talk about yourself," he tried to explain his concern in the kindest way possible, scratching his nape. it was hard to get the gruffness out of his voice when he was embarrassed to be the one who called you out on it, yet he knew he'd take the job any day seeing as he was your first man, after all.

"oi. what i'm tryna tell ya," he crossed his arms now on the table, yet one of his hands reached out to find its way over to yours. "is that i'll be here for you if ya ever wanna open up... i ain't gonna force ya to, but just know it's an option."

despite his frown and eyebrows knitted together, you could tell he really meant in genuinely and that he wasn't mad at you. oh, he could never be mad at you when you were his sweet little angel.

one step at a time, with every soothing rub he massaged your knuckles with.

but that's what worried him. you weren't meant to be some godsent creature to tame them. and he'd make sure you knew how much you could rely on him as well.

and every kiss he planted those same knuckles with.

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genshin-squabbles-and-wobbles · 9 months

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The Enraged Inferno || Part 2

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Character: Diluc

Type: Angst, tragedy, Revenge and Reader in her villian era

Tags: Fem!Reader

Requester: @sailorstar9

Content: Years later, Since the reader's distant relative is Baizhu, it would make sense she would have Dendro healing abilities, as Baizhu have been training you to defend yourself and medically educate you. However, ironically, you were in your villain era, You were angry, you felt robbed. This was trauma without you realizing it. Despite being taught to be a catalyst user, you decided, why in the hell would you even try at this point? You decided, a sword would suit you much better. How would life continue after this?

Trigger Warning: I might be a little violent in this story to stress the Villain Era the reader is in, and also, dealing with trauma so please proceed with caution. I might add cursing a bit, please let me know if you can feel the idea of the reader without the cursing.

Part 1: Here

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You applied medicine to your scars to help ease the sore aches. This medicine was specifically made for you by Baizhu. You rubbed your healed yet scarred wounds with medicine as you stared at them blankly.

"W-What are you doing!? S-Stop! It hurts! W-Why?? AHHH!!"

Those words of your own voice echoed in your head, you clenched your jaw. Three faces burned in your head, you remembered them so clearly. As they were the result of your so called infamous death. You stood up, and took your sword with you. Of course you kept your catalyst weapon with you out of habit.

You walked out your room, and went down to manage the register up front as you rubbed your forehead to help keep a calm your expression. You don’t want to scare customers, and you never intended ruin Uncle Baizhu's business with your own issues anyways. Qiqi was doing her usual things such as organizing the shelfs. You walked to the register, and got ready for the day.

"I'll manage the register today but only because I actually have another job for you, my dear" Baizhu appeared from behind, as he was in the storage room of the pharmacy pulling out fresh medicine in a series of crates.

"Good morning, Uncle. What do you need me to do today?" You walked to him and helped him unload the crates of fresh medicine. You were strong even to carry these crates like nothing, and of course, Baizhu would notice and comment on it, however not this time, since there was another matter at hand to be concerned about. "Well...there is an order that needs to be delivered to Mondstadt. I would like you to do that for me. Our usual deliver men are on break, so I need someone to cover for them. I didn’t find anyone in time, so you are my last option. I apologize for dropping this on you so suddenly my dear. I'll make it up to you."

You looked at him surprised as you remembered-- Baizhu doesn’t entirely know that you faked your death in Mondstadt. He only knew that you almost got hurt and that you needed a safer place to be in. However it had been years, and you have been training to be better in self defense. Out of anger, out of fear, out of revenge. You wanted to taste the days where you get to strangle those servants with your own hands. You know, you practiced, unknowingly to Baizhu. You await that experience to drip in your mouth, as though-- right now, you remain thirsty.

You nodded slowly with your arms crossed, deep in thought. "No worries, I got it, I'll prepare to leave in the afternoon." Baizhu smiled. "Wonderful, thank you my dear. And...I know your mother passed away recently, but...I know she's very proud of you. If only we knew, we could have helped, but your mother isn’t the kind of women to speak up when needed to be" He placed his hand on your shoulder. You smiled, but that was just a mask. You knew that very well with your mother, but don’t worry. That ends with you, you'll be the first women to speak up and scream to let them know who you are.

You especially wanted to dig deeper graves for those three servants, deeper than your own mother's grave. Deeper, to the point of touching hell itself. You'd rather be a criminal then some innocent bystander. You rather cause a shitshow then be in one. You rather cause chaos and sink your hands in those who deserve it. You didn’t care. Jean included. She doesn’t get off empty handed. None of them do. And Dulic...would you rather he pity you helplessly or fear you graciously? I don’t need to provide such an answer do I? Fuck those prissy shits.

Later on, you already left, you bid your polite goodbyes to Baizhu and Qiqi, as you were preparing to take the walk to your homeland. You wonder how life is like on there. You wore dark clothing, black pants, black turtleneck sweater, black shoes, bags under your eyes, as you nightmares of your incident. You used to wear such pretty and light clothes. Such innocent bloodstained clothes. Don’t worry, this time, the blood won’t be yours, and it would never show on black clothing would it? You were walking on your path to Mondstadt, as you were passing Guili Plains.

Some hilicurls spotted you nearby and ran towards you, without hesitation, you swung your sword and decapitated them all in one swing. You placed your foot on one of heads and crushed it under your foot. It was like you crushed a large snail shell. Stiff but with enough pressure, it breaks. You looked at the shielded mitachurl with malicious and murderous intent. Immediately, the mitachurl backed away sensing violence in you. You stepped forward, planning to be merciless and brutal towards it, however with that step, the mitachurl ran away.

"No one will mess with me...no one will take me as a joke. Ever again." You muttered to yourself and walked towards Mondstadt once more. Your lovely homeland.

A day later, you arrived there and looked around. Nothing changed, it was the same. You walked to the person you needed to deliver the medicine to, it was a man named Anthony. The medicine was for his sick little sister named Anna. She had a chronic illness, he is trying everything to help her feel better. Once you bid the man farewell, there was one thing has plagued your mind, what had come of the home you grew up in? You walked to your neglected home, the one you used to live in since a baby. You still had the keys to it. You went to the corner of Mondstadt and saw it, it was the same but had overgrown greenery, however, it was still...home. You unlocked the door and walked in, and saw dust and clutter everywhere. Boxes, and taken down picture frames.

You wondered if your mother was suffering from guilt from sending you away, however, it doesn’t matter now, she was gone. You were gone. Everything was gone.

You sighed. Regret filled your lungs, as you looked at the pictures of you and your beloved mother, as you loved her but you were so angry with her. You cried enough before, but being here makes you want to cry again, this was the home place of your mother. You never really had a father, it was just you and her. Now it's just you. The loneliness is aggravating. You started to go through through the mail, as it had pile up over the months, until you saw a letter that caught your eye. A letter from the Favonius Knights to sell the house since there was no one there paying for it nor the bills in it.

You thought for a moment. Could you perhaps move back in Mondstadt? Take over this home, and maybe, return to a life here. You thought for a moment, then thoughts of Diluc flood your mind, Jean, and her servants. You assumed they married and had children. You felt disgusted. "Hah, bunch of weak backed shit heads. I'll show them." You muttered with a reverge thirsty smile. However, the deeper the smile, the more empty and lonely it was.

You took the letter in your clutch and left. You walked into the Favonius Headquarters, and walked in on Jean in her office. Jean looked up, as her jaw dropped, and stood up. "Y-You..but...you.."

You looked at her unfazed. "Is that really yo-"

You placed the paper in front of her on her desk. "Shut up."

You pointed at the letter. "My mother passed, so I will be taking over the house, so no need to ransack it or sell it" You had malice and murder in your eyes. Yet you were emotionless. You wanted to strangle this women with every inch of your life.

Jean took a step back, startled. "You...You aren’t the same person as before...you...you're different."

You glared at her silently. "Man, if I could strangle you here and now, I would. However, I have better things to do then to waste my time on some waste of flesh here in front of me."

Jean's jaw dropped once again, as she looked at you worried. She took the stamp and stamped the letter with shaking hands. As she is well aware of murderous glare you had towards her. You took the paper and turned to leave. This was not like you. Not like you at all. This wasn’t the person she knew when you two were younger.

"Wait..." Jean stopped you, as you continued to walk out. "Wait!" Jean ran and stopped in front of you. "In case you didn’t know...Diluc and I didn’t get married...so so...you can stop your anger towards me! He voided it and he left. He...He owns a winery now, but I am still trying to get him back and make him marry me! So still consider us engaged! So don-"

"Good for you." You said coldly, and not really feeling like your anger had to be justified to her. You walked passed her.

"Also..." Jean continued hesitantly. "Your boss, Baizhu, said you had another order of medicine, he sent me a messenger about it..." You sighed and groaned with your head tilted back and eyes closed. "Can’t you leave me alone you petrified shithead...?"

Jean was taken aback at your reaction to her, even more that this was from your job, and not even in her control. She was used to you being kind, she was used to being loving and forgiving. No matter what she did to make you hurt and suffer, you always smiled and forgave her. You even wished her happy marriage, this only made Diluc like you more, as nothing seem to faze you. Despite nothing still fazing you now, your kindness was gone.

All you see, is a pile of useless shit in front of you. The downfall of Mondstadt. Jean felt your eyes as such. She sighed and held both her hands up. "O-Okay okay, dear Archons..."

Jean gave you an address to the delivery. "Here, this person ordered medicine just now, you should get it to them..." You took it and left. Jean watched you leave as she felt shivers down her spine. She had a bad feeling about you.

You can finally breathe, it was suffocating in there, like close enough you were about to punch her. But now isn’t the right time for that, there will be a time and place. You always knew that.

You walked back to your now renowned home, as you looked at the address. "Huh...a winery..?" You began making the medicine and preparing it. You then wrote a letter to Baizhu, about you living in Mondstadt and you will expand his business in Mondstadt.

The next day, you looked at the address and walked outside of Mondstadt, and straight to a large mansion placed in the middle of nowhere. "Huh...a big winery...but also a big mansion..." There was a line of grapes crops and a small town nearby. You walked to the door, and knocked. Adelinde, a maid of Diluc answered, as she held the door open. "Ah, thank you for the medicine. We have to sign a receipt that we received it, yes?"

You nodded and held up your hand crafted receipt as you don’t have access to the record papers. It was back in Bubu Pharmacy in Liyue. You needed to keep records of orders in case anything, business rules. Baizhu was smart for that especially when it came to taxes. " You walked in, and looked around. "This all...kinda seems familiar..." you whispered to yourself.

Adelinde opened Dulic's main office, as you walked in with the papers for him to sign, you gazed around his office, then onto him. Diluc has yet to acknowledge you, as you looked at him with a blank face. His hair had grown, he looks more like his father now. He is taller now, he got more muscular now. He dresses more astrostcatic now, despite his attempt to blend in.

You walked up to him without a care for manners or etiquette and placed the paper on his desk. "Please sign for your order." You said, as you wanted to leave as soon as possible.

Just then Diluc looked up at the paper, and nodded. "Yes, one moment." He had an annoyed expression, and then took out a pen to sign. But then he looked up, and his gaze fell onto you, and he paused.

His eyes went wide, as his face went pale. His annoyed expression dropped as he takes in this life changing occurence slowly. He gasp as he immediately stood up and walked to you and pulled you into a tight hug. "I...I thought you were gone..." He spoke in such a desperate tone.

His eyes were shut tight, as tears fell onto your cheek. Finally, a tragedy that wasn’t true. He desperately nuzzled your hair, as he slowly leaned back against his desk while hugging you. You were standing in between his legs, being held against his chest.

You sighed and pulled away using your hands on his chest to push yourself away from him. You looked up at him with a tired and blank face. "Sign the receipt so I can go." You said coldly. He looked at you, confused. This wasn’t the same, kind and sweet woman he knew. "Huh...?" He placed his hand on your chin and gently pulled you to look up at him, and look at your face. "What...What happened to you..?" He looked into your dead eyes and scrutinize your tired face.

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sweaterweatherever · 1 year

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Heyyy, could you do a Ajax imagine with the soulmates theme ?? with the tattoo idea of soulmates. I would love if you write more of him

Four-letter word (Ajax Petropolus x Reader)

Pairing: Ajax Petropolus x Fem Reader, Wednesday Addams x Enid Sinclair (Lightly, mostly insinuated)

Warnings: Cursing. Insecurities, mental health issues, googling symptoms.

A/N: I thought so much about this. Like, before falling asleep, on the bus. I still don’t think I ironed all the kinks of how a universe like this would work, but it was a lovely experience. Also, send more Ajax requests, I love writing him.

Requested: Yes. I loved writing this, anon you are amazing! I would love to write more of him, too.

One night, when you were six years old, you had woken up crying and screaming from a pain so intense in your arm you thought you were burning up. You had screamed your little throat raw. Once the pain subsided, your mother had appeared on your doorstep, all happy and proud.

“It’s your soulmate.” She had told you, pulling your arm to show you how above the inside of your elbow, was an ugly handwriting, with an even uglier phrase. “It’s… It’s… Don’t worry about it, baby. We’ll get something to cover it up.”

There weren’t many girls with soulmate’s identifying marks. You couldn’t help but stare, every time you saw another girl changing after gym class. Most of them had immaculate skin, whereas you got a tattoo. Apparently, that made you lucky. You didn’t feel lucky, with those crude words engraved on your arm. You had taken to covering the tattoo, ashamed of what others could think. Was it so terrible a destiny to be your soulmate that they had to say that when seeing you for the first time?

What kind of person was your soulmate? You guessed he was a boy, with the ugly chicken scrawls that adorned your arm. Or it could be a girl, maybe a doctor? But the words were hateful, insulting even. It didn’t speak of a mature person, you guessed you would meet them when you were still young.

The words stayed with you as the years passed, gnawing at you, diminishing your self-confidence. Every time you saw them in the mirror, you wondered if it was such a terrible fate to be tied to you. What could possibly be so wrong about you that the person who was supposed to be made for you didn’t want you and felt such rejection at meeting you?

Your teenage years weren’t easy. Despite your hopes of meeting your soulmate when still young, with the secret hope you could excuse their lack of tact due to their age, the time never came. You made it until junior year before resigning yourself to meeting a mature person who hated you so much they needed to say that.

Then, the visions started. You kept touching stuff and seeing disturbing things at seemingly random patterns. Maybe this was it, you guessed. This was what repulsed your soulmate so much. You had to be going crazy. You didn’t dare tell your parents, fearing being sent away to some sort of institution. Of course, being you, you did exactly what you shouldn’t and looked the symptoms in google. You promptly diagnosed yourself with schizophrenia.

Junior year was hard. All this pressure of choosing a mayor, a college, doing extracurriculars on top of your weird hallucinations and your fear of meeting your soulmate and them hating you, it was really eating at you. Your parents noticed soon, and when confronted with the question “Is everything okay?” You couldn’t help but blurt it all out. Your parents had been concerned, rightfully so, and taken you to a doctor. Thing was, you weren’t schizophrenic, you were something else. An outcast.

Outcast. The word tasted foreign in your tongue, like something you would hear used to refer to others, never you. Your parents were normal. You were not. Was your soulmate like you? Or were they so disgusted because they didn’t like outcasts?

Off to Nevermore you went, for your senior year. They would be able to help you there, your parents had explained. They would teach you to get your powers under control, and you would meet people like you. People like you. You wondered when your parents had decided there was a divide between you and them, when they had decided you were some other kind of people.

Thinking about things too much made you sad, so when the principal introduced you to your new roommate, you decided you were being given a chance that not many people got: The ability to start from zero, to be whoever you wanted to be. And this new you, she didn’t overthink.

“Hi.” You extended your hand to the girl, noticing her blouse. “My name is Y/N. I like the collar of your shirt.”

The girl brightened considerably.

“Oh, thank you. I got it thrifting! My name is Yoko.”

“Oh, you thrift?” You asked her, looking at her outfit with renewed interest. “You must have some pretty interesting pieces, then. They don’t make clothes as they used to.”

“Yeah! Want me to show you?” Yoko didn’t wait for a reply, opening her dresser. “Here, look. I got this one for only two dollars! And it’s original…”

That was how your friendship with Yoko was formed, bonding over cute clothes. You came to learn many valuable things from her. First, the best spots at Jericho. Which stores had the cheapest and prettiest clothes, which bookstore was the one to go if you wanted a romance novel, and where to go if you needed a textbook. Second, how Nevermore actually worked, and how outcasts related to each other during their teenage years. But the most important one: You weren’t a freak or unlovable.

It had happened accidentally, really. You had been coming out of the shower, only in your towel, but with the band firmly placed over your soulmate tattoo.

“You can take it off here.” She had said, pointing at it. “We are different from normies, most of us have one.”

“Oh?” You asked, fiddling casually with your wet hair. You would rather not take it off. If you did, Yoko would see what your soulmate thought of you and maybe wouldn’t want to be your friend anymore. Who wanted to befriend a loser who not even her soulmate liked?

“Yeah, from what I know, in our year only Wednesday doesn’t have one. But that's okay. She still found hers, Enid has her words on her arm.” Yoko lifted her shirt to show a pretty cursive that looped around her bicep. It read: The moon pales next to your beauty, miss. It was still in the black writing, anyone who had not met their soulmate yet had. Of course, someone as cool as Yoko got a cute remark from her soulmate, and you were stuck with yours.

“I still… I don’t want to… Mine is not as nice.” You said to her. Yoko rolled down her shirt sleeve, placing her sunglasses on top of her head. She looked much like an old lady preparing to read something in a tiny letter. You wondered if her sunglasses were for more than shielding her eyes from the sunlight and had a prescription too.

“Oh, god. What, they insult you?” Yoko laughed. At your serious expression, she gave your hand an encouraging squeeze. “Because believe me, I have seen some pretty bad ones. Enid’s arm says: I break out into hives, and then the flesh peels off my bones. Can you top that?”

Pacified at the fact she wasn’t laughing at you, you took off the band. Yoko stared.

“That bad?” You laughed nervously.

“No! I have seen worse!” Yoko hurried to reassure you. Her hand grabbed your arm, turning it, so the writing faced her more. She squinted at it, a frown on her perfect eyebrows. “It’s just… I think I know the handwriting.”

Butterflies took residence on your stomach. You could be meeting them soon. The person who was made for you. You stomped on the butterflies harshly. They didn’t like you, so why get all giggling and excited? It was not going to go well, your first meeting.

“Oh?” You asked, feigning disinterest. Fake it till you make it, you said to yourself. One day, you would outgrow your childish want for a soulmate, but for now, you could pretend you didn’t care.

“I have seen it, but I can’t remember where. I think one of the boys in our year? Or maybe… I don’t know, at home? I have many cousins, could be one of them?”

But Yoko didn’t remember, and the topic got dropped in favor of something else. You thought she had forgotten, except when she introduced you to Enid, she did by saying you were the one with the soulmate in your year.

“Here, show her!” Yoko said, excitedly. “Show your arm to Enid.”

You took a look at the café. It was pretty quiet, no other students in sight. You rolled up your sleeve, showing her your arm. Enid’s hands grabbed yours, almost too roughly. Her excitement was evident, nervous energy pouring off her in waves.

Your breath hitched… Could it really be that easy? Enid could be the key to finally meeting your soulmate?

“Of course, I know the writing!” Enid clapped, excitedly. Her soulmate, Wednesday, only gave a nod. You guessed that must mean approval, since she didn’t talk a lot. “She is Ajax’s. Look at the letters. Only he can write that poorly.”

Ajax. So, that was his name. Your soulmate. The one who will reject you. It didn't feel real. A mix of excitement and dread filled your stomach. You are sure it showed in your face because Yoko grabbed your hand between hers.

“Ajax?” Yoko squeezed firmly, smiling. “Oh my god, makes total sense. You are way too pretty for him, really. He is a lucky guy.”

“Thank you.” You beamed at her, fluttering your lashes for good measure. Yoko was fun to tease. She didn't disappoint, making a kissy face at you. “I don’t think I know him, is he in our year?”

“Yeah, he is the tall one who sits next to Kent in History.” Yoko said. You gave her a blank look. “Umm, always wears a beanie and matching hoodie?”

“Yoko, you are literally describing half the gorgons.” Enid leaned more towards you, eyes widening. "Look, he has dark eyes and brows, and his mouth kinda looks like Tom Holland’s.”

You stared some more. So, a guy. A guy and a gorgon, with dark eyes and awful writing. Tall, too. And made total sense he went around cursing and talking shit. A douche. Ew.

“Just show her his socials already.” Wednesday said, rolling her eyes. Apparently, she was the person with more brain cells on the table because both Yoko and Enid scrambled to pull out their phones and show you.

“Here.” Enid said, pointing out a boy in one of the pictures. He was… Cuter than you expected. He had a kind face, too.

“Oh, he is cute.” You muttered. And he was. You liked the way he smiled, all dimples and boyish charm. He had a regular sense of fashion, at least he didn’t look homeless. It was strange, looking at this person and thinking: This is my soulmate, this person was made for me. It didn’t feel real.

“Another basic white boy, really. But you could do worse.” Yoko peered over your shoulder. “He is nice, but tends to put his foot in his mouth.”

“He is…” Wednesday lowered her voice, like a kid saying a dirty word. “Cheery.”

“Ugh, disgusting really.” Enid poked her in the ribs. Then, she turned to look at you. “Come on, let’s go talk to him.” And without even letting you roll your shirt down, she started dragging you back towards the school.

Soon, you two ended up in a place unfamiliar to you. The dorms for the boys looked similar to the girls, but much more run down and different at the same place. You worried a teacher might spot you, but Enid seemed to know her way around them, twisting and ducking into mostly empty hallways.

“Enid… I don’t think this is a good idea…” Truth was, you weren’t sure you wanted to meet him. You needed time to mentally prepare for the rejection that was soon to follow. At least you were wearing cute clothes, but if you had known you were meeting your soulmate today, you would have put on something cuter than jeans and a sweater. To look better… Even if you were getting rejected. “My mark isn't…”

“Oh, I read it. I’m sure it must be a misunderstanding. Maybe he swears so much because he thinks you are too pretty.” And with that, she was pounding on one of the doors. You cringed, eyeing the empty hallway. You could always make a run for it, even if you didn’t know the way back to your dorm. Someone would surely step on your path and you could get directions.

“Ajax! I know you are in there.” Enid screamed, knocking again.

“Wait, Enid! I’m coming.” A voice said. It was a nice voice, you guessed. He sounded impatient, so you guessed that was going to prompt the rejection.

“Hurry! There is someone you need to meet.”

“Give me a second!” But Enid wasn’t in a waiting mood, and so, with surprising strength, she pushed the door open and shoved you inside.

The last thing you heard when you came face to face with a very naked, terrified looking boy with serpents for hair was

“Shit! What the hell are you doing here?! Get out!” Your last conscious thought before ending petrified was that at least, he wasn’t rejecting you.

The voices were the first thing you noticed. Enid, high and airy, Yoko in her no nonsense tone and a boy, sounding terrified. At first, you didn’t remember what happened, your whole body felt rigid and achy, like if you had a very intense workout session. Opening your eyes didn’t give you any clues, either. The ceiling looked just like any other, and you were unable to take in more details because your eyes felt full of sand. You pressed the heels of your hands against them. God, what the hell?

“How could you just push her in? Enid, I petrified her!” That voice… Ajax. Oh god, you didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or cry. Your soulmate had petrified you! But, he sounded concerned, even if he was being a little loud for your taste. Still, it wasn’t a rejection, the petrification hadn’t been on purpose. The thought made you feel all kinds of warm. Maybe there was hope for you two.

“Yeah, Enid. What the hell?” Yoko. That was Yoko. And by her tone of voice, she was going to give Enid the tongue lashing of her life.

“It was always going to happen! I took a risk! And I…” By her tone of voice, she was panicking. They were near your bed, you could feel the chairs shifting when they moved. You tried to reach for one of them on the left side, but your hand only met concrete.

“What? No, that’s not how it works!” Ajax raised his tone, and this time, you followed his voice, grasping desperately at some part of his body. You could feel cotton scrunching under your fingers, he was sitting on your right. Good to know he had gotten dressed, you didn’t want to see so much of your soulmate on your first meeting as you had seen already. Even if, from what you remembered, he was cute.

“Shut up! My head fucking hurts!” You complained. At hearing your voice, they all paused. You heard Ajax take a shuddering breath. Were those his words? Oh, god, and you thought yours were bad.

“Oh, thank god.” The boy leaned down, pushing a few strands of hair off your face. He was in a panic, words tumbling out of his mouth with seemingly no filter. It was surprisingly endearing. “How are you feeling? I’m so sorry, I… I would have never petrified you if I knew you were my soulmate. Not like I go around petrifying people who aren’t my soulmate, I just meant… I would have been more careful. No, fuck, I don’t mean…”

You weren’t sure what to say to all that, so you did the best next thing.

“Shut up.” You squeezed his arm, eyes still closed. Too afraid of the pain, you didn’t dare open them again. This had to be the oddest sensation of your life. Your muscles felt all rigid, your joints ached, and you were in the middle of an emotional turmoil big enough to leave PMS to shame.

“Do you want me to get you anything? Water? Food? More pillows?” He offered, more quietly this time. “I’m sorry, again.”

“That’s okay.” You answered, still groggy.“I… You are…”

“Ajax. Ajax Petropolus.” He paused, almost if he didn’t know what to say, if he was allowed to. His voice lowered, almost to a whisper. “Your soulmate.”

“I think this is a talk you need to have in private…” Enid said, and you heard her get up. “Come on, Yoko.”

“But what if he…?” Your eyes stayed closed, but you could feel Ajax tense up at your side. The insinuation seemed to offend him.

“Go, Yoko.” You said to her. Yoko made a huffing noise.

“Are you scared?” Ajax asked, removing his hand from you. “Because… She can stay, if you would be more comfortable.”

“No.” You answered. “Yoko, go.” You heard her standing up and leaving the room. Ajax shifted in his seat. Why did he think you were scared?

“But your eyes…” Ajax said, and you almost snorted. Did he think you didn’t dare look at him?

“They hurt. Feels like sand all over them.” You explained, pressing your hands to your eyes once again.

“Oh, that’s, that’s my fault. I have petrified myself before…” You smiled at that, and his voice brightened considerably. “When your eyes are open, they dry out. I can get you water, if you like, but it will go away on its own.”

“Yeah.” And, sure, it was a lame answer, but what else were you supposed to say? This wasn’t what you had been expecting, not at all. You thought he would be repulsed by you, for some reason, not all sweet and caring. Certainly, it never crossed your head he would petrify you.

“I understand if you want me to….” Ajax offered, trailing off like it was too painful to even finish the sentence. Was he thinking of leaving? Because he thought you didn’t want him? “But I want you to know, before I leave that you are the most precious thing to me. You are gorgeous, and I have seen you in class, you are smart as hell. Maybe I don’t deserve you, but I would never hurt you on purpose.”

“No!” You grasped blindly for his arm. You didn’t want him to leave. Ajax pressed his hand into yours. “Stay. I have thought all my life you were going to reject me.” You confessed, eyes still firmly shut. You didn't want to see his face when you asked, too scared of his reaction. “This is not that?”

“No! I… I could never… I would love to take you on a date, if you let me.” The confession made you almost sing with joy. You felt his hand on your hair, absentmindedly carding the strands back. You sighed in contentment.

“Okay.” You answered him, risking opening your eyes just to look at him. The pain had lowered significantly. He had the prettiest smile you had ever seen. “Take me out on a date. I would love that.”

“Tomorrow. For today… Can I watch over you?” Ajax was still smiling. You wondered if you looked as lovesick as him, as your mouth stretched into a smile.

“Might not be the best company. Tired.” Ajax seemed unable to resist touching you again, this time stroking your hair. Your eyes closed out of their own accord.

“Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up. And… Sorry again.”

“It’s fine.” You slurred, turning in the bed to face him. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For wanting me.”

“Oh, love, there is no world in which I wouldn’t want you.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you snuggled more under the covers. You drifted off, happy and safe.

#my writing #wednesday netflix #ajax petropulus x y/n #ajax petropulus x you #ajax petropolus x reader #ajax petropolus imagine #ajax petropolis x reader #ajax petropolus x you #ajax petropolus #ajax petropolis x you #ajax x you #ajax petropulus #ajax petropulus x reader #ajax petropulus imagines #cant stop thinking about the spelling anon #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #yoko tanaka

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the-dendrophile-bookdragon · 10 months

Text

Never be Late!

Pairing: modern!mafia!Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warning: smut, swearing, oral (fem receiving), fingering, mention of abuse

Summary: You are Daemon's favourite and he will not stop until you are his.

Please support me by liking my post and reblogging and maybe leaving comments in the tags. Thank you!

“Where were you yesterday?“ You stopped in your tracks and looked at where the voice came from.

Daemon came out of his office from the shadows of the club. He was clad in black dress pants from Armani and a deep red button-up from Hugo Boss. His sleek black Oxfords shined in the light. His platin blonde hair was slicked back in his signature style. He looked pissed.

You walked over to him in your old worn-out blue jeans and black hoodie. Your Converse has seen better days. As you walked nearer you saw his red dragon tattoo shining through his unbuttoned shirt.

“I wrote a message yesterday. I took a sick day because of some issues at home.“ Daemon growled at your answer. He knew about your boyfriend and his habits. His eyes roamed over your face.

“That fucker better not have touched you!“ He spits out angrily. You shook your head. “Get dressed. I want a private show in five!“

You rushed to your changing room to get ready. A red lace set with a chocker is laid at your vanity. A string of pearls was connected to the chocker and went to a belt which lay on around your hips. You finished up with some makeup before walking behind the stage.

It seemed like no one was there yet and so you started your own music. You liked to dance to rock songs or songs with noticeable drums. ‘Enemy‘ from Imagine Dragons was the first song on your playlist.

You walked on stage seeing your boss sitting right in front of the stage. His eyes roamed your body. Goosebumps ran over your skin like a wave.

You began to walk around the pole slowly. You stopped right in front of Daemon and slowly moved into a squat while rolling your hips seductively. You stood up again moving to climb the pole.

You climbed up high. The iron was between your thigh and stomach and as you slowly turned. At the drop of the music you let yourself fall. Before you landed on the floor you stopped, hovering over the ground. You saw Daemon lean forward, ready to catch you and look if you were injured. You had a small smirk on your face as you realized he cared more for your well-being than you anticipated.

Slowly you sat on the floor and turned. The pole behind your bag. Your back arched as you gripped the iron behind you. Your lightly cowered chest was on full display for him.

You looked into his eyes and saw the pure, raw lust swirling in his dark blue irises. In some lights, they appeared to be lilac. With a crook of his finger, he beckoned you over to the edge of the stage. You slowly crawled over to him with your bottom lip between your teeth.

He touched it immediately, freeing your lip. “Stop it!“ He commented. You obliged. “Today you only dance privately when I tell you to. Understood?“ You nod with big doe eyes.

“Good, now lay on your back.“ You did as you were told in an instant. Your boss was an impatient man.

You felt his large, calloused hands roam your thighs and stomach. He smirked to himself. “I knew you would look gorgeous in this set. I think I have to forbid you from wearing it around anyone except me.“

He took the string of pearls and tucked them into them. You sat up and looked in his eyes. “You won’t go home to that shitty apartment again. You will live with me. And this is your last shift. After that you won’t dance for anyone but me.“

Your eyes were wide. „What is with-„ Daemon growled, “He is dealt with, darling. Don’t worry your pretty head about this fucker. Raise your hips!“ You did as you were told. Daemon hooked his fingers into your panties and slipped them down your legs. He grinned as he saw your core. „What a gorgeous sight.“

With two strong arms, he pulled you to the edge of the stage. „Keep those eyes of yours on me, darling!“ Your eyes were instantly glued to him.

He moved down between your thighs and bit the flesh right next to your core. You hissed softly as he marked you. He kissed and licked his mark to soothe the pain of his bite. “You have such soft skin. How can anyone bruise it with hate and not with love.” He kissed up to your knee before diving right in.

You through your head back and moaned. Daemon looked up and growled. “I told you your eyes stay on me!” He barked. You turned to him again. He smirked as he saw the desperation in your eyes. “Eyes on me, princess! Or you will be left here on stage high and dry.” You nodded.

“Good girl.” He praised. He moved back between your legs. Attaching his lips to your clit. With a few harmless kitten licks, he had you mumbling his name. He moved down. His tongue slowly darted inside of you. “Daemon, please!”

Daemon looked up with a quirk on his brow. His kitten licks never stop. “Please Daemon fuck me with your mouth and fingers!” He grinned at the demanding desperation in your voice. He moved away from you, “As my princess wishes!”

His kitten licks turned into broad licks up your cunt. You felt your arms shake but you knew if you wouldn’t sit he wouldn’t let you come. You mumbled his name and some curses as he licked vigorously inside you. His nose slightly touching your clit sends sparks through your body.

“Daemon, fingers please!” He looked at our hooded eyes. “As you wish!” He removed his rings from his finger. He didn’t want to cause you any infection because of an unclean ring. Slowly he entered your hole with one finger. Slowly pumping it. “Feels good?” You nodded but Daemon wasn’t happy with your answer. “Use your words, baby girl.” You screwed your eyes shut as he hit your G-spot. “Yes! Feels so good!” Daemon smirked. He added another one.

Your mouth flew open in a silent moan. Daemon sped up his movement inside you before he attached his lips to your clit. Small whimpers and needy moans flew out of your mouth. “Daemon, please let me touch you!” He looked up and nodded slightly. One of your hands immediately flew to his geld back hair, messing it up.

Your hips seemed like they had their own mind as they moved with every thrust of Daemon’s fingers. He stopped glaring up at you before gripping your hips with one hand. It was enough to keep you from moving.

His fingers moved faster and faster inside you, stretching you deliciously. “I am so close!” Daemon chuckled around your clit, sending shockwaves through your body. “Please, Daemon. Let me come!” The man in question smirked as felt you clench around his fingers.

With one last lick of your clit he let you come. Your moans filled the whole room. Your back arched and your arm holding you up buckled and you fell on the stage floor. You felt Daemon pump through your orgasm before he removed his fingers and caught your slick with his tongue.

You whined at the overstimulation but he ignored you. Even when you lightly pushed his shoulders to stop him.

After he was finished he slid your panties back up your legs. He slapped your thigh softly with a grin. “Get redressed and fix your hair. No private dances unless it’s me. Understood?!” You nodded with a dazed look.

Daemon smiled an uncharacteristically soft smile. He pulled you even closer to the edge of the stage and smirked, “You are mine, baby!” He kissed your lips softly. He didn’t give you time to respond as he left for his office in the shadows of the Red Dragon.

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#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon smut #daemon targeryan #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targaryen modern au #daemon prince #daemon x reader #daemon x you #daemon x y/n #daemon mafia au #mafia au

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misslovasstuff · 10 days

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In wano, episode 925, we are introduced to Sanji’s raid suit, aka stealth black, aka soba mask…

There was a short moment that really got my attention; when Sanji was talking about his dream of having the fruit that could turn him invisible.

Hopefully you know which moment I’m talking about. Now, if you guys remeber all the way to thriller bark, there we get to know that invisibility was Sanji’s dream. A lot, and when I tell you A LOT of people started despising Sanji after what he claims in that arc.

The thing is, although what he might be saying can be true to some extent, he’s (consciously or not) laying over the real reason why he wanted the invisibility fruit in the first place.

Coming back to wano, Sanji realises that (ironically) his dream of turning invisible can become a reality through the raid suit. Then is when we get a flashback to when he was a kid. To his childhood…

Sanji had that dream since he was A CHILD. So, it comes naturally to assume that of course a kid would not dream of having the invisibility fruit to look at women. There is another reason, a bit more dark that perhaps Sanji hides under this grand and overly exaggerated regard and admiration for women (this is not the first nor the last case he does that fyi).

I don’t know if he wanna appear more tough by pretending and putting this facade of a desperate imitation of masculinity but nevertheless, this is a call to stop taking Sanji’s gag seriously because as I see it, although it does not question the genuine love he has for women, he does use it as a tool that sometimes gets out of his control because of the principles he has nailed down in his life. A tool for the obvious reason of being a gag, and also to throw a bit of dust over his own insecurities and unresolved issues.

This instance that I mentioned, among many, are proof that (using Shkrek’s analogy) he is like an onion with many layers, and the superficial layers are just a basis to convince himself of being somewhat worthy of whatever validation he’s seeking. Like bro would never state that he dreamed of having the invisibility fruit as a kid because he wanted to ACTUALLY become invisible to those around him, to his abusers who inflicted trauma that years later is still fresh on his skin. Like the other time where he would never admit to others that ‘oh no you guys are in danger I need to save you’ Sanji would rather say ‘oh no Nami and Robin are in danger’ and then literally worry for every single one of them.

my man, being caring and loving and showing vulnerability will not get you in trouble anymore.

#I think he’s slowly understanding that he can be himself #at the same time being loved for who he is #but he has so many layers and i wanted to point it out #sanji means sometimes a whole different thing from what he seemingly claims #ahhh the wonders of a beautifully crafted character #one piece #sanji #one piece sanji #op sanji #one piece analysis #one piece theory #thriller bark #wano arc #wano spoilers #one piece wano #soba mask #germa 66

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moonpetrichors-blog · 1 year

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HEAR ME OUT, ROYAL AU BUT WITH SCARAMOUCHE

Prince Scaramouche

Tags: Royal AU, Scaramouche, Imagine, Prince!Scaramouche, Princess!Reader, Scaramouche x Reader, Mommy Issues Galore, Lowkey Enemies To Lovers? , Scaramouche is Just Bad w Feelings, Oneshot

Warnings: Mentions Of Scara Being Mean

Scaramouche is an Inazuman prince with mother issues, and you’re a caring princess from Liyue visiting for diplomatic reasons. What could go wrong?

* ˚ ✦ 947 Words • Read below the cut

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-╰┈➤ ❝ [30/11/22] ❞

Imagine, Scaramouche is the prince of Inazuma.

He is cold, calculated, and untrusting. He rejects any speck of emotion, whether positive or negative. He loathes his subjects and never ventures outside the castle gates to see the outside world. Since his mother, Ei, cast him aside, he has done nothing but wallow in the confines of his room as the useless, unwanted prince.

He used to have lofty dreams for his future in the kingdom, filled with eternal affection for his citizens and a desire to ascend to the throne in order to better the lives of those who lived beneath him. Yet, for his own mother to consider him an undesirable son, he did not appear to be fit to rule with the iron fist that she hoped of him.

So, imagine his surprise when his mother invited outside guests to their home, and asked him to be present during their visit.

Royals, from Liyue, in fact.

Scaramouche was also thoroughly interested to learn that while not all the royals themselves were able to attend, they sent a group of ambassadors in their steed. But that is not what caught his interest.

No, it was you.

The visiting princess, and the only royal hailing from Liyue who had arrived for diplomatic relations.

Imagine, that as the prince is staring daggers into your back, you make eye contact, and find that his expression is one of an evil, shit-eating smirk. Not even five minutes in Inazuma, and you have created a bright red target on your back for the royal family.

Scaramouche is the polar opposite of you; where he is frigid and wary, you are warm and compassionate. It irritates him more and more as he gets to know you. In some ways, he may identify with your demeanour as it reminds him of shards of his former self. However, it just serves to infuriate him. He's been wounded by Ei many times, so forgive him for not inviting a stranger into his home with open arms. Who's to tell your sweet disposition isn't all a ruse?

But it isn't, and he knows that. Scaramouche understands that he can't simply go out and play cruel pranks on you to get you to crack, but that doesn't mean he isn't trying. At least, in subtle ways that is. He'll mock you, taunt you, and make catty remarks. Scaramouche would never intentionally ruin Liyue and Inazuma's relationship, but he occasionally believes that if he acts out, Ei will acknowledge him. Even if the attention is negative.

You, on the other hand, give him attention, which he desires from anyone who is willing to offer it to him. But, just as quickly as he becomes attached to someone who makes him feel vulnerable, he pushes them away. But not with you.

Once he quits attempting to reveal your 'true' nature during your visit, he gradually but steadily eases into being comfortable around you. While he is still harsh at times, his jokes take on a more lighthearted tone. And you eventually become friends. At least, according to you. Scaramouche laughed in your face the first time you called him so, despite the fact that he knows it's true.

Perhaps there's another reason he's so infuriated by your smile, and how you seem to make his pulse beat faster every time you come close. When he cracks mean jokes, you may respond with one of your own. Of course, this is all in good fun, but it makes him dizzy since you don't even react badly to his jokes. Curse you for being so patient and also so amusing.

Scaramouche has developed a crush on you, but since he denounces all his feelings as stupid, he believes his infatuation with you is clearly just being annoyed that you, well, exist.

You might be a kind and warm princess, but not a stupid one.

That’s why, when one day, Scaramouche decided to make a teasing joke about how “you wanna kiss me sooo bad”, you do it. For once you got him to shut up, but left him in a sputtering, flushed mess in the process. After composing himself from the mental combustion he just experienced, he throws his massive hat at you and walks away with the back of his hand shielding his cheeks.

Later that night, you paid his chambers a visit, hat in hand. Scaramouche was about to shut the door in your face, but not before you wedged your foot between it. Of course he is blushing again, because how can he face you after the events of earlier?

You make your way into his room, and plop down on a chair. Beckoning him to come sit with you, he does so begrudgingly.

Imagine Scaramouche, for the first time in his life, being able to talk about his feelings without feeling sick. And, as he tries to communicate his feelings to you in yet another dumb, teasing way, you kiss him again, the words dying in his throat. You tell him you share his feelings. You also suspect you may have had just broken him, because the words he is attempting to compose in his mind are being vocalized in vain.

Days pass since that night, and Scaramouche is still awkwardly trying to figure out how to express his feelings to you nicely.

But, you make him kind again. You make him trusting.

That’s why it hurts all the more when you have to leave him. Of course your stay wasn’t permanent.

That’s why it also makes him happiest, when Ei tells him she received a proposal from Liyue two weeks later for his hand in marriage.

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sapphires-and-silver-linings · 2 months

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The Betrayer | Chapter Ten: The Swing of Things

You fucked up. Badly.

Pairing: Albert Wesker/F!Reader, Chris Redfield/F!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Violence, Injury, Death Mention

Notes: Woof. It has been over a year since I last updated this fic, and I am SO sorry. In that time, a lot has happened in my life, including graduating from college with a bachelor's degree and a slew of health (both mental and physical) issues that are still ongoing. I can't promise that my updating will be consistent or quick in any capacity, but I hope this quells you guys' fears that I have "given up" on this fic lol. My sincere hope is that I will someday finish it, even if it takes many many years. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this addition! I suppose you can consider it somewhat of a "filler" chapter, but I genuinely believe even the more fun chapters still have a degree of important plot (even if it doesn't appear that way at first, as I love adding "blink and you miss it" moments that are either call backs, foreshadowing, or easter eggs lol). Please let me know what you think and if you have any theories! I love reading those! Have a good one, y'all!

Masterlist | Previous | Next

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Day 33; Haddonfield

You leaned against the shed wall as you desperately tried to regain your breath, heart beating wildly in your chest.

You were in the middle of a trial in Haddonfield with Laurie, Mikaela, and Jeff, three out of the five generators needed to power the exit gates finished, when a looming figure had appeared behind you as your group scoured for the next one.

He would have gotten you too, if Laurie hadn’t turned just in time to see him lunging for you, his kitchen knife barely missing your shoulder as she pointed behind you and screamed, making you duck.

The four of you scattered after that, losing each other as the Entity’s chosen killer for the evening seemed to pop in and out of existence due to his silent steps, the moonlight and the glow from the completed gens making his deathly pale mask somehow more haunting. It was eerie that someone so large could sneak up on you like that.

You were reminded of what your father once warned you about mountain lions:

“You won’t know they’re hunting you until they're ready to pounce.”

The thought made you shiver.

The other survivors called him “The Shape”. A name so… vague… shouldn’t have instilled so much terror in you. And yet.

But Laurie told you his real name just a couple weeks prior as the two of you were hanging your laundry to dry.

You had been chatting idly about your pasts, and you had foolishly asked her if there was a killer in the realm that was brought with her.

“Yes,” she replied quietly. You waited for her to continue, but it was silent for several moments. You looked over at her after clipping your bed sheets to the clothesline and could see her staring at the ground, brows furrowed.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me,” you assured her.

She jumped when you gently placed your hand on her shoulder and she finally turned to you. “Michael. Michael Myers.”

You looked at her questioningly, not recalling that name being mentioned before.

She continued, “He’s the one they call ‘The Shape’. He…” There was another pause as she swallowed, hard. “He killed my friends and very nearly killed me. Ruined my life in a single night, can you believe that? Halloween, of all days. I’ll never be able to enjoy that holiday again without looking over my shoulder. If I ever get back home to experience it, that is.”

All of the killers in the realm gave you a chill when you were told about them, but something about this silent stalker scared you more than most. More than Wesker. Hell, even more than Ghost Face.

You had been fortunate in the month since first arriving in the realm that you hadn’t faced the Shape. You supposed luck always runs out eventually. Ironic, considering your nickname.

Though facing off against any killer could hardly be counted as fortune. In the five trials you had endured since your very first, you had only survived two. And barely, at that.

You couldn’t stop yourself from recalling those nights, the memories of your deaths in particular causing bile to rise up in your throat.

The Hillbilly and his chainsaw ripped you clean in half.

The Pig’s contraption locked onto your head had split your skull apart.

The Doctor and his electric baton shocked you until you bit off your own tongue and choked on it.

But you had still survived twice. You had to remind yourself of that.

You had been beaten and hooked by the Wraith, the agony of the strange weapon (made of human bones, it seemed, though it was hard to tell in the dark) being whipped across your face and the way the hook tore through the meat of your shoulder made you feel an ache just at the thought, but you had gotten out alive.

Your run-in with the Nurse had been much more successful. She still got a hit in on you, but you managed to get out of that trial with just a nasty gash across your chest. It very nearly got infected when you returned to camp, but Rebecca’s careful hand (and Chris’s watchful gaze) dealt with that promptly.

You were getting better with every trial, and that gave you hope.

You had always been a quick study, after all.

You took a deep, calming breath and slid your spine across the chipping paint of the shed, peeking your head around to see if the coast was clear. You weren’t sure where everyone else went, but considering no screams had been heard echoing across the large (yet still somehow claustrophobic) “arena”, you took that as a good sign.

There was no indication of the massive killer, so you made your way slowly and quietly to the street, praying desperately that he wouldn’t find you again.

You skimmed your vision over the area as you ducked behind the car in front of you, the flashing lights of the police cruiser nearby hurting your eyes.

It was strange, you felt, how this seemingly normal looking neighborhood could turn into such a breeding ground for terror. It was almost nostalgic how typically suburban it appeared, and that only made it worse.

You grew up in a place just like it, after all.

There’s one, you thought to yourself as you spotted a generator nestled beside a roadblock at the end of the street. It was out in the open, but it would be easier to spot the killer with one of the exit gates at your back. He’d be less likely to creep up behind you, at least.

You made a beeline for it, surveying your surroundings to avoid being caught unawares, before skidding to a halt beside it.

You nearly leapt out of your skin when Jeff popped his head up from the other end, probably checking to make sure you weren’t the killer coming to collect.

“Hey,” came his whispered greeting as you knelt beside him, his large hands carefully but expertly going through the motions of repair.

“Hey there,” you replied breathlessly. You offered him a smile, but the expression was tight. You got straight to work.

“Have you seen the others?” he questioned after a few moments.

You shook your head. “Not since we got separated.”

He let out a quiet exhale of barely concealed distress but remained quiet as the gen got closer and closer to completion.

You liked Jeff. He was a gentle giant, and a reserved one at that. You were first acquainted when the two of you were partnered in the chore rotation, boiling the water brought in from a group of other survivors and lugging it to the barn for the very long-winded filtration process.

He had seemed like a tough guy between his large stature and full beard, but once you started chatting, he was quick to open up about his love of rock music and artistic abilities. You bonded almost immediately over Iron Maiden and Metallica and jokingly asked him to “paint me like one of your French girls”, cackling at the blush that bloomed in his cheeks.

He had shown you his sketchbook shortly after, and you were in awe of his talent, never having been much of an artist yourself. You thought of Kitty and how you and your family used to say she would grow up to be the next Da Vinci with all of her little doodles scattered around the house. You supposed now you’d never know. It made your heart ache.

The gen came to life under your touch, the noise of it fully starting up jarring you from your thoughts.

Jeff motioned for you to follow him, the two of you expeditious in leaving the area to avoid being discovered by the Shape.

You made your way down the street, opting to slink behind the row of houses instead of remaining out in the open.

You came across Mikaela bent over what the others called a totem; a horrific mix of sticks, twine, and human skulls. A rumble echoed across the trial grounds as your surroundings lit up a soft blue.

So there was magic in the Entity’s realm.

You had laughed out loud when Mikaela had first explained it to you, thinking it was some kind of prank. The severe look she gave you made your eyes widen in shock. You shouldn’t have been surprised, considering everything else you had learned of this place, but the concept of magic seemed almost silly.

But then your fourth trial was with the young redhead, and you would have bled out if she had not utilized one of her “boons”, which miraculously helped to close the wound left by the hook. Not so silly anymore.

You had asked her after that particular event why she didn’t use her supernatural abilities to heal injuries in the camp, and she explained she couldn’t access her powers outside of trials despite all her efforts.

“Right, of course,” you had replied, bitterness seeping from your tone. “Typical Entity bullshit.”

“Laurie’s inside that house working on a gen,” the self-proclaimed witch informed you, pointing at the building in question as she stood up. You noticed the cut across her arm then, watching as the skin stitched itself back together within moments.

“I’ll go help her,” you said, pulling your attention from the mind-bending sight. “Why don’t you two find another one to work on in the meantime, in case he catches us before we finish.”

They nodded at your words and crept off to do just that, leaving you alone once more.

You made your way quietly into the house and up the stairs, finding Laurie with a wrench in her hands, hard at work. She turned to you and smiled tersely in greeting as you dropped into position beside her.

There wasn’t much left to do before the machine would be repaired, and you were confident it could be finished in no time.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Before you knew what was happening, a large hand grabbed you by the neck, the scream brewing in your throat wilting as you were yanked off the generator and thrown into the wall behind it.

The wind was knocked out of you and you were dazed by your skull thudding against the wood paneling of the room. You heard yelling—probably Laurie—as that same hand came back around your throat and lifted you off the ground.

You dangled helplessly, unable to breathe, and you were suddenly reminded of Wesker’s tendrils from weeks prior.

A surge of panic flooded through you as you stared at the white mask, the flickering light of the unfinished gen glinting off his knife.

You grabbed desperately at his wrist, knowing the Shape’s strength was far too great to loosen his grip, even with your jagged nails ripping into his skin.

He brandished the knife, the blade directed right at your midsection, and you braced for the sharp pain of it slicing through your flesh.

To your shock—and relief—the killer had released his hold on you and you slid to the ground, desperately trying to suck air into your lungs.

You were able to focus just enough to see Laurie hanging from his back, trying to strangle him with her arms wound tightly around his neck. Unfortunately, he grabbed her by the hair, ripping her off of him and throwing her onto the floor.

Looking for any way to fight off the killer before he could murder Laurie, you found a screwdriver on the ground, tossed out of her toolbox when it was kicked over in the tussle. You lunged for it, gripping it tightly and ramming with your full weight into the Shape’s form. He was built like a brick wall, but you managed to stab the screwdriver into the junction between his shoulder and neck, quickly yanking it out to watch him rear back, deep voice groaning in pain as a fountain of blood squirted from the wound.

A sick sort of satisfaction rushed through you to see him suffer, even a little bit. You didn’t like that you felt that way, but you brushed it off. He had done much, much worse. It was deserved.

You had just enough time to grab Laurie’s hand and pull her to her feet before he was after you, running out of the front door and into the street to get away from the psychopath hot on your heels.

“This way!” Laurie told you, pointing at the house straight ahead. “We can split up when we get there and vault the windows on either side!”

You nodded, releasing her hand as you dashed into the living room of the aforementioned building. She rushed to the back, leaping over the window to the right, and you immediately went through the left.

Fortunately for Laurie but unfortunately for you, Michael was laser-focused on reaching you first, probably to make you pay for your little stunt.

He was uncomfortably close as you continued to sprint away from him, desperate to lose him as you weaved in and out of buildings, diving over ledges and flinging pallets to slow him down.

It only seemed to make him angrier.

To your relief, you heard the telltale alarm of the exit gates being powered up, hoping that you and your teammates could manage to escape. You made the mistake of glancing back, the massive man’s knife poised to strike the moment he could get near enough.

You stumbled, your fear locking up your legs for only a moment, but it was enough of a delay for him to reach you.

A fence was right in front of you, and you knew you only had a second to act as his knife soared through the air, aimed right at your spine. You dove to the side of the fence, his blade embedding into the rotting wood, and you scrambled up and away as he used his brute strength to rip it right out.

It didn’t grant you much distance, but it was enough.

You barrelled back onto the street just in time to see the exit gate opening, and you made a break for it, the other three survivors spotting you and desperately motioning for you to join them.

As you neared, however, you saw the horror bloom on their faces, their eyes trained on what was behind you.

You knew exactly what that meant.

“GO!” you screamed, and they heeded your words, spinning and sprinting out of the gate and into the empty field beyond it.

I’m so close, you thought. Come on! COME ON!

Your legs burned and your lungs felt like they were full of fire, unable to get enough air to properly breathe, but you knew you couldn’t stop now.

You could feel him behind you—hear the grunt that slipped from under his mask as he made to grab you, his large fingers brushing against the back of your shirt.

And then, as his dirty, blunt nails dug into the fabric…

You burst out of the gate and into freedom.

You heard the roar of pure rage and looked behind you, the Shape pressing his hand to an invisible wall that kept him from pursuing you further, his knuckles going white as he gripped his knife with inhuman strength.

You didn’t stop running.

You ran until you reached the edge of the field, engulfed in a thick black fog.

You ran until you felt like your lungs would finally burst.

You ran until a soft light pierced through the cold, wet darkness surrounding you.

And only when the mist faded, giving way to the safety of the camp, did you finally stop.

You collapsed to the ground in front of the fire, gasping for air through crazed, triumphant laughs that you couldn’t prevent escaping your mouth.

“Lucky!” Chris shouted as he made it to your side, dropping next to you and grabbing your face to look you in the eyes.

He said nothing, but you knew what he was thinking.

“I survived,” you managed to get out through heaves and giggles. “I survived the fucking Shape.”

You heard a collection of cheers from all around you, Chris grinning as several survivors approached—including your teammates—and clapped you on the back or ruffled your hair.

When you finally caught your breath, Chris helped you to your feet.

You smiled as you faced the others.

“Hell yeah!” Carlos whooped. “Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about!”

“Good job,” Leon congratulated.

“Yeah, girl, like holy shit!” Claire exclaimed from beside him.

Whether from the praise or the adrenaline still pumping through your veins, you felt a dizzying sort of joy.

You really made it out alive. And this time, with only a handful of bruises to show for it.

“Come on, Lucky, sit down for a while. Get some rest,” Chris told you, urging you over to a nearby log.

There was a buzz in the camp, everyone excitedly chatting about the rare full-party survival of your group. It reminded you of your days in S.T.A.R.S., how you and your team would celebrate another mission well done.

You could almost see Joseph in the way Carlos ribbed Steve. Richard in the way Leon rubbed the back of his neck as he talked with Ada. Edward in Felix checking on Mikaela.

It made you feel both warm and melancholic.

Chris grounded you, as he always did, by wrapping his muscular arm around you, pulling you into him. He kissed your temple, speaking lowly so that only you could hear him, “I’m proud of you, baby.”

You felt a blush spread over your cheeks, glad your recent exercise already colored your face, whispering almost shyly in return, “Thank you.”

You sat together for a while after that, the survivors settling down. Yoichi and Haddie left to start dinner and Chris only got up when they had finished, telling you to stay where you sat so he could get you your food.

You used to argue when he did this, feeling embarrassed by the special treatment. He told you early on that he wanted you to feel special because, to him, you were. The notion was sweet and no one else seemed to really care, so you agreed to let him. He had done it every day now, unless he was the one serving the meals.

How very typical of him, always putting you first.

You watched him get into the line, smiling softly at your doting… whatever he was to you.

The two of you hadn’t put a name to it yet. You weren’t opposed to calling him your “boyfriend”, but it felt ridiculous with how little it conveyed just what he meant to you.

Besides, what you had was still fairly new and despite being physically intimate, you wanted to take this slow. You had all the time in the world, after all.

You could almost laugh thinking about the morning after the two of you first slept together. It started out nice and romantic waking up next to him, his strong arms holding you close as he kissed you slowly. But you had asked to keep your little tryst to yourselves for a while—to feel out what it was you had—and he agreed.

However, that was near instantly trampled the moment you left your room, Carlos clapping Chris on the back, Jill and Rebecca sharing knowing looks, Ada complaining to you about the noise, and Claire clocking the bruise on your neck as a hickey when she saw it.

Chris was sheepish and you were embarrassed, but he had thrown an arm around you, telling you that you might as well own it.

It was strange to have something like this out in the open after years of keeping your relationships under wraps.

You and Kevin thought it better to hide what you had for the sake of the job, only letting loose in front of friends and family. The man had never been the most outwardly affectionate anyway, preferring to show you his love behind closed doors.

And you and Wesker? Well, that was a whole other can of worms.

It was nice to be shown affection so blatantly in front of other people and that Chris didn’t care if they saw him kissing or holding you.

You were stiff at first, unused to it, but the ease with which he touched you and pulled you close eventually had you melting.

Of course, the more intimate moments were hidden from view, usually in your bedroom or his, though the occasional tug inside a closet or bathroom wasn’t uncommon.

Frankly, you were both insatiable, unable to keep your hands off of each other when you weren’t burdened by chores and the daily trials.

You two were happy—as much as you could be in this place—and you wanted to keep it that way.

Your thoughts were scattered when Laurie appeared before you, gently tapping your shoulder to gain your attention.

“Hey,” you greeted jovially.

“Hey,” she replied, voice sweet, “I just wanted to say thank you for saving me in the trial. I thought for sure I was done for. I’m sorry he went after you when we split up.”

“Don’t sweat it. You saved me first anyway, remember? I think we can call us even. Besides, it’s not your fault he picked me to terrorize.”

She smiled at you. “Still, I’m glad you were there and that you got out safe. You must be our lucky charm or something.”

You laughed. “I don’t know about that, but I’ll take a win when I see one.”

Chris returned, holding out a plate to you, and Laurie simply squeezed your shoulder fondly before wandering to the back of the line. You saw Steve sidle up next to her, trying to look cool as he chatted her up.

You rolled your eyes before turning your attention to the man beside you, taking the meal with gratitude and a brief kiss on the lips. You wondered if you’d ever get used to that.

“What was that about?” he asked conversationally, digging a fork into his food.

“Oh, just talking about the trial. I saved her from the killer after she saved me.”

“How so?”

You explained to him what occurred, reminded of the way Michael’s blood spewed out of him like a fountain—the way you felt a sadistic glee that it was you that spilled it.

You kept that bit to yourself, but Chris saw the way your brows furrowed, because of course he did. He was a lot more observant now than he once was, especially concerning you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

You took a breath in, unsure of how to answer, when Ace called out to the group, unknowingly rescuing you from a talk you weren’t ready to have. You both turned to face him, his arms full of various bottles of alcoholic drinks.

“Who wants to party?!”

Many survivors excitedly cheered in response, gathering around the table Ace placed the bottles and a stack of cups upon.

Carlos and Jill came up beside you, the former looking down between you and Chris. “How about it, you guys want a drink?”

You stood up, holding your empty plate in your hands as you replied, “You’re joking, right? After the trial I just had, I need one.”

Your small group chuckled, Chris standing as well and taking your used dish. “Pour me something, Lucky. I’ll go put these away.”

He leaned in and kissed your cheek before walking off, and you caught the way Jill’s eyes shined and Carlos smirked at the action.

“What?” you asked, narrowing your gaze.

“Oh, nothing at all,” Jill replied, smiling wide.

“Just that you two are so darn cute,” Carlos added, pinching your cheek and cooing. “Young love, am I right?”

You smacked his hand away. “Whoa there, no one said anything about love.”

Carlos clicked his tongue, pulling away his hand as the three of you made it over to the table to fix your drinks. “Denial is a river in Egypt, you know.”

You scoffed at the stupid jest. “And you’re too young to be making dad jokes.”

“Hey, I might not be a dad,” he started before wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, “but the ladies still call me Papi. Isn’t that right, Jill?”

She elbowed him hard in the side, making him yip in response. “I think you should shut your mouth now.”

You laughed as he grumbled, taking two glasses and filling one with whiskey—as Chris would prefer—and the other with rum, which was more up your alley.

Chris returned and you handed him his drink with a smile, turning around just in time to see Claire reach for an empty cup. The man glared at his sister, voice stern as he said, “Absolutely not.”

“Seriously?” she questioned with a huff. “You know I drank in college, right?”

You could see Chris bristle at that. You knew Claire being flippant about her education was something of a sore spot for him.

Their parents died when he was fourteen—not much older than you had been when you lost your mother—and the two of them were forced to live with their uncle whom neither of them liked very much and was rarely around to take care of them.

Chris had to grow up quick, and he did everything in his power to give Claire a good life, even at the expense of his own. Nearly every penny he earned from the moment he started working went towards her; new clothes before every semester, birthday and Christmas gifts, school supplies—everything she needed, plenty of things she wanted.

But he had always been lax with her, nearly to the point of spoiling her rotten. This change in demeanor was strange to you and you wondered where it stemmed from.

“Well, you should have been focusing on your studies, not partying,” he admonished.

Claire wasn’t having it, clearly fed up with her older brother’s behavior. “I can do both.”

“C’mon, Chris,” you coaxed. “She’s a grown-up now and it’s not like there’s a legal drinking age in this place. What’re you gonna do? Call the cops? Arrest her yourself?”

He rolled his eyes, but you could sense him relaxing as the logic of your words dawned on him. “Alright, alright. Go ahead. But don’t be stupid about it.”

With an appreciative smile towards you, she grabbed her cup. “We’ve got a lot in common, big bro, but not that.”

He scoffed in offense, turning to you as his sister trotted off with her spoils. “You hear that? Teenagers.”

You chuckled, raising your glass to him. “Can’t live with 'em.”

He grinned, clinking his cup to yours. “Amen to that.”

Rebecca sidled up to you, her own drink in hand. “I like to think I’m not that bad,” she teased.

“Yeah, that’s because you’re a nerd and like, ridiculously responsible for your age,” you told her light-heartedly, bumping her shoulder with yours.

She gave you a faux pout before breaking into laughter, bumping you back. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t call me a nerd.”

Not everyone decided to join in on the alcohol consumption, but the survivors separated as usual, chatting amongst themselves. The teens hung out around the campfire, goofing off, and Ace even started a poker game that a few of the others joined in on.

Carlos, witnessing that, turned to your group of older adults from your world, which had settled down at a table near the medical facility. “How ‘bout we play a drinking game?”

“What, like beer pong?” Leon asked dubiously.

“Maybe Truth or Dare,” Ada teased with a smirk, making a blush rise to the young man’s face.

“No and no, though I like where your head’s at,” Carlos said. “I was thinking more along the lines of Never Have I Ever.”

“And how does one play this game?” Sheva asked with an amused chuckle.

“Someone says something they’ve never done, and everyone who’s done that thing has to take a swig. If no one has done it, the person who said it takes a drink instead,” Carlos explained. “So, who’s interested?”

“I’m down,” you offered, placing your elbows on the table in front of you. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

Carlos glanced around at the others expectantly and they all agreed, some more hesitant than others.

The game started innocently enough, the whole group—except for Leon, it would seem—getting tipsy quickly.

Then, as it always did, it took a more raunchy turn.

“Never have I ever…” Sheva started, considering her next statement, “had sex in public.”

You and Chris shared a secretive look and you both bit back laughter as you took a hefty sip from your cups. Ada and Carlos did, too, which didn’t surprise you, but everyone was shocked when Jill raised her glass to her lips.

“What?” she asked defensively. “The military was a weird time for me.”

Ada leaned forward because it was her turn, thinking of her own line as the group finished reeling from Jill’s admittance. “I’ll do you one better, Sheva. Never have I ever hooked up with someone on the job. And no, Leon, a kiss doesn’t count.”

You raised your brows as Leon opened and closed his mouth immediately, looking like an embarrassed fish. You were vaguely aware they had some kind of history together, but it apparently went deeper than you initially thought. You felt your heart ache for Claire, seeing why Chris was so concerned about her feelings for Leon.

Yikes on a bike.

Without thinking, you tossed back your cup in response to Ada, the only person in the group to do so.

When you looked around with a drunken smile on your face, the expression dropped like your stomach as you realized your mistake.

It was clear that Carlos, Ada, and Leon assumed it was Chris you were referring to, and if Sheva knew otherwise, she clearly didn’t understand the problem with your revelation.

Jill, however, stared at you with furrowed brows, and you could see her trying to piece together who it might be.

You gulped as you glanced at Chris beside you, who had tensed up, his features that were previously open and relaxed turning stony as he met your gaze.

That sobered you immediately.

You fucked up. Badly.

Neither of them knew of your relationship with Kevin in the past, feeling it was unnecessary and a threat to your job security if you admitted you had a long-term relationship with your former partner.

However, it wasn’t Kevin that you had sex with at work, and you were almost tempted to lie and say it was.

Because you definitely couldn’t tell them it was Wesker.

“Well, that was fun,” you claimed as you stood, hoping you could get away from this situation before it blew up in your face. “But I think it’s time I head to bed.”

“Yeah, me too. Don’t want a hangover,” Chris said, voice gruff.

You swallowed thickly as he looked at you. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but it probably wasn’t good. You weren’t ready for this conversation. However, he clearly was.

Tersely, you said goodnight to the group, their expressions perplexed by the awkward tension that now fell over you. Chris gave them a noncommittal wave, following after you as you trudged into the medical facility and into your room, anxiety swelling inside of you with every step.

Once inside, Chris closed the door, not facing you when he asked lowly, “Are you going to tell me who it was?”

You took in a sharp breath, already picking at your cuticles as you replied, “It doesn’t matter. That was a long time ago.”

Not exactly a lie. It had been nearly a year since you and Wesker had done something as risky as hook up in his office. It was the first and only time, as he made very clear.

Usually, it was in the safety of hotel rooms.

Chris turned abruptly, expression appalled. “You’re serious?”

“You sound like Claire earlier,” you said, trying to alleviate the tension.

“No, don’t do that,” he warned. “Don’t try to play this off.” He stepped forward and you eyed him warily. “I thought we were closer than this. I thought you could trust me.”

“Of course I trust you!” you exclaimed.

“Then why hide something like that from me? Worried I’d judge you?” His jaw was tight and you wanted nothing more than to hold his face in your hands, to go back to before you decided to play that stupid game.

You could at least admit to being with Kevin, lie and say it was him you had sex with on the job, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“Chris, I don’t want to tell you because it didn’t mean anything. It’s something I wish I could forget. Can you please let this go?” you were in near tears as you tried to explain yourself, not willing to relent and give him the information he was looking for.

This was still far too raw, and you had been more than happy to pretend your previous relationships were nonexistent while exploring this new one with the man standing in front of you, fists clenched at his sides.

He looked at you for a long moment, taking in your pleading expression and the way you tore the skin off your fingers in distress, and finally backed down. “Fine. You don’t have to tell me anything. I just… I want you to be honest with me.”

“And I am,” you assured him, closing the distance between you. “That part of my life? It’s not important anymore. In fact, I wish it never happened in the first place. It was stupid. I was stupid.”

He sighed, features softening as he allowed you to pull him into an embrace, his large hands sweeping across your face. “Alright, then. I’ll let it go.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, nuzzling into one of his palms. “And I’m sorry I upset you.”

“You’re lucky I can’t stay mad at you for very long,” he teased in a hushed voice, leaning down to press a kiss against your temple.

“You nicknamed me well,” you replied, grinning up at him as he pulled back.

He rolled his eyes, but that didn’t stop him from tugging you into his arms.

“C’mere,” he said, lips meeting your own fervently.

As you returned the kiss, the back of your knees hitting the bed while he led you further into the room, you knew your night wasn’t over yet.

***

September 14th, 1996; Raccoon City

“‘Bout time you showed up,” your brother admonished with a goofy grin, opening the front door of your family’s home to let you inside.

“Good to see you too, Tic,” you replied sardonically, ruffling his hair the moment you stepped over the threshold. “How’s school? You keeping out of trouble?”

He pushed your hand away, fixing the strands you had pulled out of shape before answering with a playfully annoyed tone, “It’s only been like two weeks, Sis. How much can change?”

You chuckled. “You’d be surprised.”

Although you got along with both of your siblings—even with the large gaps in age—your personalities were as different as they could be. Tic, despite his sense of humor, was far more studious and careful than you ever were, taking his grades seriously. He was a popular kid too, becoming the rising star of Raccoon City High’s junior varsity soccer team. You often worried about his ability to juggle it all, but he hadn’t burned out yet.

Tic rolled his eyes good-naturedly at your response before changing the subject, “Anyway, I heard we’re expecting company tonight?”

“Sure are. My friend from work, Chris, and his sister, Claire.”

“No Kevin then?” Tic already knew the answer, and you could hear the disappointment in his voice. Although you and Kevin still talked occasionally, he hadn’t visited your family in weeks, and you knew they missed his near-constant presence almost as much as you did.

“No, he was busy this weekend,” you said, unsure if it was even a lie. “But hey, Claire’s only a couple years older than you. You two might get along.”

Your brother’s demeanor shifted, a mischievous smile forming. “Is she hot?”

You scoffed, gently smacking his shoulder. “She’s in college, dude. Don’t even think about it. At least until you’re eighteen.”

He fake pouted, rubbing his arm as if you’d maimed him. “Geez, fine. No need to bust my balls over it.”

Before you could comment on his crass reply, a blur of pink tulle came flying toward you at warp speed, the tiny body of your baby sister being launched into your arms.

“SISSY!” she bellowed as you gave her a big hug. “I thought you were never coming home!”

You laughed at such a ridiculous notion. “Now why would you think that, Kitty?”

“‘Cos it’s been forever since last time,” she half-whined, as typically theatrical as any seven year old girl, you imagined.

“It’s only been two weeks.”

“You’d be surprised how much can change,” Tic interjected sarcastically.

“Oh, you’re about to get the worst noogie of your life,” you threatened, setting Kitty back onto the floor before making a grab for the collar of your brother’s shirt.

“It’s not my fault you're getting too old to remember what you said five seconds ago,” he replied as he deftly dodged your outstretched hand.

“You’re only making it worse for yourself,” you warned, Kitty giggling as you chased Tic down the hall. Man, that kid was fast. It was unfair he was already taller than you at fifteen.

You were about to catch up when an evidently displeased voice called your name from the kitchen entryway, “Now that you’ve finally arrived, can you help me finish the dinner I’m making for your guests?”

Ah, your infinitely uptight stepmother was here to break up the fun, as usual. Though you couldn’t fault her this particular time. The Redfield siblings were indeed your responsibility tonight.

Your relationship with your stepmother was a… complex one, to say the least. She came at a time that was far too soon after your mother’s death, and it always felt as though she was trying desperately to replace her.

You wanted to hate her when you were younger—make her out to be some villain in your hero’s journey—because it was easier than blaming your father for moving on so quickly and becoming even more of a hardass than he already was. But now as an adult, you understood the truth.

She was simply a young woman who didn’t know how to handle a grieving child.

“Yeah, of course,” you replied, quick to meet her in the kitchen and wash your hands, getting ready for whatever prep work she would throw your way.

She hummed in acknowledgement, sending your siblings off to the backyard and out of her hair before the two of you quietly made dinner.

You eyed her warily as she stood over the stovetop, the chicken breasts sizzling in the pan as she flipped them with a spatula. You continued your task of mashing the already boiled potatoes, thoughts drifting to the years of fights you had with your stepmother, and the resentment that you’d slowly been trying to chip away at now that you were an adult.

She was the secretary at your father’s job when they first met, hired about a year into your mother’s cancer diagnosis. It was only six months after your mother’s passing when your father introduced you, telling you—in no uncertain terms—that this stranger was to be your new maternal figure.

You always wondered if they just married quick so your father could push the responsibility of caring for you onto someone else or if he had moved on before your mother was even dead. After years of speculation and knowing that if you asked, you wouldn’t get an honest answer out of either of them, you still couldn’t decide what scenario felt worse.

Your disdain for the woman was not helped by the fact she was neurotic, and it always felt like she saw you as some charity case that needed “fixing”. She couldn’t stand that you were a tomboy, always forcing you into frilly pastel dresses when all you wanted to wear was your favorite jeans and your mother’s old band shirts.

You remembered when she threw them out to force your hand when you were about thirteen, and you cried so hard you puked. It was the only time your father ever intervened with her schemes and made her dig the shirts out of the garbage. You wanted to believe it was because he didn’t want the last remnants of his late wife to be taken away—as he got rid of pretty much everything that belonged to her when your stepmother first moved in—but you knew it was probably because your tantrum grated on his nerves.

You were about to toss in the butter to the mashed potatoes when the woman in question stopped you. “Only one stick of butter. You of all people should be more mindful of your health.”

You struggled not to roll your eyes, returning the second stick to the fridge, mentally grumbling about how you always used two and that you knew it tasted better that way. Instead of arguing like your younger self would have, you simply returned to the task at hand, stirring the quickly melting butter into the fluffy mixture.

No, you no longer hated her. Even with her nagging and patronizing remarks, she did mean well. The two of you just never clicked, and at the end of the day that was all there was to it. Besides, she was a wonderful and doting mother to your siblings, which was the most you could hope for.

“So,” she began, startling you from your reverie, “what is this Chris boy like?”

You considered it as you sprinkled some salt and pepper into your bowl. “He’s a good guy. Funny, friendly, and he can be pretty charming, I guess.”

She raised a brow at that, a knowing smirk gracing her perfectly painted lips. “Will he be coming to dinner more often, then?”

“I mean, probably,” you replied. “He’s become a really good friend, after all.”

“Just a friend, huh?” she teased, and although her insinuation made you scoff, you couldn’t help but appreciate the rare moment of camaraderie between you.

“Yes, just a friend.”

“A shame,” she tutted. “I was so disappointed when Kevin stopped coming around, and I hoped maybe you’d move on. I always thought you’d marry that boy, you know. How is he these days?”

Your face fell at her words, and you covered it by looking back down at your bowl of food, mixing it far more than necessary just to keep yourself preoccupied.

Marriage. It had once seemed so inevitable before it fell apart.

You sighed as you replied, “He’s doing well. He has a new work partner now that I’m in S.T.A.R.S.”

“Well, you tell him he’s always welcome here.”

You nodded sullenly. “Will do.”

The rest of the dinner preparations went by in silence, which you were grateful for.

A while later, you had just finished setting the table when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” you called to your family members scattered across the house, jogging to the front entrance to greet your friend and his beloved sister.

Your mood shifted instantly as Chris’s large form stood before you, a grin gracing both of your lips at the same time.

“I was wondering when you’d turn up,” you said to him, leaning against the door frame. “Now where’s this sister I’ve heard so much about?”

He laughed as he greeted you in turn, stepping slightly to the side to reveal a gorgeous young woman with reddish brown hair and bright blue eyes.

“Hi! I’m Claire. It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said, giving you a firm handshake, the strength of her grip surprising you. Her smile was warm and cheerful, so much like her brother’s it was almost uncanny. “You’re even prettier than Chris described!”

You quirked a brow at that, your eyes meeting your friend’s, who simply rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. You replied, “Thank you! I’d say the same, but I’ve seen your picture.”

It was her turn to look confused. “You have?”

“Yeah, Chris keeps a photo of you two on his desk at work. Hard to miss it.”

She laughed, gently punching her brother’s arm. “Aw, you big softy.”

He rolled his eyes but chuckled along, and it suddenly felt like you’ve known the two of them your whole life.

After chatting idly in the doorway, you finally led them inside, the duo peering at the family photos that decorated the walls. Their attention was moved when your stepmother gracefully appeared, manicured hands already perfectly clean despite cooking with them only moments prior.

She greeted them with a wide grin, gingerly shaking their hands and corralling your group into the living room.

“Make yourself at home, you two!” she chirped before turning to you. “Now come help me finish dinner, honey.”

You begrudgingly agreed, not wanting to leave your company by themselves but knowing they’d be just fine for a few minutes, following your stepmother back into the kitchen.

As the two of you finished up the meal, emptying food from their pots and pans into her nice serving dishes, she leaned over to you with a twinkle in her eye. “That boy sure is handsome. You better nab him before someone else does.”

You pulled a face at that. “As I said, just friends.”

She tsked in response before sweeping out of the room, clearly unsatisfied by your reply, and you trailed behind her. You knew she just hoped you’d “settle down”—probably because she wanted grandkids sooner than your siblings could give them to her—but it wasn’t as if you could tell her your only interest was in your boss.

Though, it wasn’t her approval you worried about.

Despite your father’s general apathy towards your existence, you knew he would be very against such a scandalous relationship. Not just due to the fact Wesker was your superior, but because of the age gap between you.

Hypocritical, you thought.

It was about the same as the one between himself and the woman walking ahead of you.

You put on a smile as you reentered the living room after placing the food on the dining table, leaving your stepmother to arrange it as she liked. You were surprised to see your father already there, shaking Chris’s hand and giving him a look that you knew well. He was sizing him up.

“Well, dinner is about ready,” you announced, trying to prevent what was sure to be an awkward situation.

Chris looked over at you and smiled, your father’s gaze narrowing. He said nothing as the group followed you into the dining room, your younger siblings already in their seats as your mother completed her artistic array of dishes and cutlery.

Seeing you enter, she wiped her still-clean hands on her apron, introducing your siblings to your companions. Your brother’s eyes widened when he met the gaze of Claire’s and was quick to avert them, the girl not seeming to notice as Kitty launched into asking her a million questions. You managed to stifle your chuckle at the sight before your stepmother caught your attention.

“Would you be a dear and get us some drinks from the garage?” she requested sweetly.

You nodded, about to do as you were asked when your father placed a hand on your shoulder. “No need, me and Chase here have it covered.”

You froze, knowing he was probably going to interrogate him ruthlessly, as he had done to Kevin years prior. You schooled your expression. “It’s Chris, dad. And shouldn’t our guest be allowed to sit at the table?”

“It’s no worry,” Chris said, clearly ignorant to the warning expression you gave him. You sighed as your father turned and left, Chris winking at you as he passed you by.

Welp, guess he’s on his own now.

You sat down at the table at your usual spot across from your brother, a chair left between you and Claire, meant for Chris.

Despite your concern for your father’s antics, you were quickly pulled into a conversation with your friend’s sister, an amiable girl through and through. Your worries were forgotten as she spoke, telling a joke that made you chuckle. Even her sense of humor felt familiar to you, so reflective of her older brother.

Your stepmother then asked her about her studies, and after she described her college experience so far, she explained that she was on the girl’s soccer team, something she enjoyed.

“Well ain’t that something,” you marveled, “Tic also loves soccer.”

When he didn’t reply, you kicked him gently under the table, giving him a look that said, ‘Now’s your chance to make a friend’. He sputtered out an agreement, the conversation falling silent as he couldn’t seem to offer anything else. Well that was new. He’d never been so awkward or quiet in his life.

Before you could change the subject, your father and Chris finally came back into the room, a bottle of cold soda and a couple of already opened beers in tow. Your group took turns pouring some for yourselves, and once Chris settled into his seat, you looked over at him.

Catching his eye, he offered a small smile, but there was a furrow to his brows you only ever saw on particularly hard missions at work. Your expression was questioning, worried your father had really said something off-color, but he seemed quick to shed whatever concern he had, joining the conversation and making a quip at his sister’s expense.

You yourself eventually relaxed, the evening going quite well despite the few hiccups.

After nearly an hour, your stepmother asked you to clear the table, and Chris immediately jumped up to help despite both of your protests. He wouldn’t relinquish the stack of plates in his hand, however, so you beckoned him to follow you into the kitchen as your sister excitedly ran to a nearby cabinet to pull out her favorite board game, easily roping Claire into playing it.

You and Chris remained in companionable silence for a few moments as the two of you began putting away any leftovers and getting to work on doing the dishes in the sink.

“Thanks for helping out. You know you didn’t have to, right?” you said as you lightly ribbed him with your elbow.

“It’s the least I could do after feeding me so well,” he replied with a shrug.

You smiled, looking down at your handiwork as things fell quiet once more.

After a few more beats, you asked quietly, “My dad didn’t give you too hard of a time, did he?”

“Not at all,” he answered, to your surprise, before continuing sardonically, “He only threatened to kill me if I ever hurt you. Nothing too crazy.”

You laughed at his sarcastic remark. “You got off easy, then.”

He pulled a face before chuckling. “I’d hate to see what him going hard on me looks like.”

“Aw, you’ve got nothing to worry about if you behave. If you don’t, though? Well, they’ll never find your body.” You said that last part deadpan, and Chris flicked soapy water in your direction.

“Well, you better get used to the idea of me haunting your ass then.”

You pretended to shiver in fear. “Only my ass?”

His responding laugh was loud, and you worried your grin would be etched into your face if you couldn’t stop it from forming.

The two of you finished up quickly, drying your hands before joining in on the game in the nearby room. Your sister was having the time of her life and your brother finally started to act more like himself as the evening continued, the two families before you meshing better than you could have imagined.

Caught up in your reverie, you didn’t realize it was your turn to roll the dice, Chris bumping his shoulder into yours, placing the two cubes of plastic on the table in front of you. “You can stall all you want, but I’m still gonna win.”

You rolled your eyes as you began your play, the group laughing at his remark. The dice clattered across the table, and you bit your lip as you all stared at the result.

“Oooh, snake eyes. Unfortunate,” Tic stated before snatching them from the table. “Better luck next time, Sis.”

You huffed in faux displeasure, and the game went on.

One hour turned into two turned into three, and no one seemed to notice or care, you least of all. This was the most fun you think you’ve had in months.

You smiled warmly at the people around you, the two halves of your life fitting together like puzzle pieces, all prior concerns forgotten.

Right at that moment, sitting in your family’s dining room next to one of your closest friends, you knew one thing to be true.

This is home.

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

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#albert wesker x reader #chris redfield x reader #albert wesker #chris redfield #dead by deadlight #resident evil #dbd #re #the betrayer

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thunderblessedhero · 5 months

Text

(( Warning for possibly upsetting content. Themes of violence and major character death are present in this. ))

———

[Attached: A live video feed. Gizmo is following Hugh, August, and their Lucario “Fenrir” from behind as they rush through an ice-covered Opelucid City, carefully navigating over the frozen over roads and sidewalks as quickly as can. You can see evacuating crowds rushing and slipping past them as the young trainers bolt into the fray, their panicked shouts and screams echoing through the audio.

“Those Plasma assholes-” Hugh curses under his breath, panting a bit as he runs. “I never expected them to go this far…” He motions back at his friend, urging them to keep up. “Come on, we get the DNA Splicers back from those ninja guys! We aren’t letting them get away with this!”

“Right!” August shouts back, continuing to trail behind their friend. They look to the Lucario running beside them and nods, initiating a wordless communication between them and the Pokémon. He seems to understand right away, returning the gesture affirmatively.

Fenrir then turns on his heel and veers off to the side, before bouncing up a tower of jagged ice with ease. He reaches the top in a matter of seconds, and his eyes begin to scan the chaos raging around him from his vantage point- as he does, you catch a glimpse of the massive, levitating frigate looming threateningly in the skies over the city.

August and Hugh swerve to follow after him, but they stop at the sound of loud beeping noises coming from the phone behind them. They both simultaneously turn to look to the camera, raising a brow at the Rotom phone as it begins to shake and twitch.

“Gizmo? What wrong?” August asks, extending a hand out to the little Electric-type in concern.

“ZZz-zzzZZT-zzzt— zzt-” Gizmo’s inexplicable buzzing gets louder, before the screen fades to static, intercepting the feed. It stays that way for a few seconds longer… before the scene abruptly changes.

There’s an older man with white hair and a tall cap, standing in front of an iron wall. He wears a massive purple cloak that looks like it was designed to withstand harsh low temperatures, with a blatant Team Plasma logo plastered on the front.

“Greetings, people of Unova.” The man addresses the audience in a dark tone, one that would spur unease within you. “My name is Zinzolin- a sage representing Team Plasma and my lord, Ghetsis.”

He continues, speaking to the camera with a blank, firm expression. “I’m sure you’re all wondering why this broadcast has suddenly reached your device- or perhaps you’re more focused crisis currently unfolding in Opelucid City. Either way, I’m here today to issue out a warning to all of Unova- so listen to my words, and listen to them well.”

“We may be taking our leave now, but know this- the attack on Opelucid was only the beginning,” he warns. “Soon enough, all the region will be shrouded in ice, and Lord Ghetsis will then take his rightful place as Unova’s ruler! Soon enough, when his plan falls into place, you will have no choice but to yield to him!”

“And before you think your little hero of truth is going to come to your rescue once more, like they did two years ago during our previous attempt to seize power…” Zinzolin smirks menacingly as he holds up what appears to be a remote control. “I regret to inform you that Reshiram and its trainer will not be coming to your aid this time. Nor will Zekrom- she and her hero abandoned you all a long time ago.”

“Don’t believe me?” He snickers. “See for yourself. In case my speech wasn’t enough to sway you, our generous leader has gone ahead and provided a little… presentation of sorts, to remind you we are not to be trifled with.”

He presses down on the controller, and in the blink of an eye, the screen switches again. Now, a pitch dark room is shown- you can just barely see the line where the floor and wall meet. Everything is deadly silent for a moment longer, before you begin to hear what sounds like shouts and metal clanging in the background, growing closer…

A door offscreen opens up, filling the room with light for the briefest of moments- just long enough for you to see a figure get harshly thrown into the dank holding cell, before the door is promptly slammed back shut. Your blood runs cold when you’re met with a face likely many Unovans know- the hero of Reshiram… their hands are tied behind their back, and a piece of black tape is pasted firmly over their mouth.

Blake’s hat tumbles off their head as their back slams against the cold wall, a muffled cry erupting from their throat before they slide pitifully onto the ground. They’re alive, but they writhe around and recoil like they’re in excruciating pain… You don’t want to imagine what they must’ve gone through before all of this. Or whatever they’re about to endure.

“Let this be a lesson to all who dares try and oppose the might of Team Plasma,” Zinzolin’s voice can be heard booming from a nearby speaker. “Watch as the very trainer who once saved your pathetic lives is reduced to nothing but ashes, and know that you will all suffer the same fate if you try to revolt!”

A red flash fills the room, and once it fades away you hear a haunting, reverberating growl… Trembling, Blake tilts their head up, pure dread overcoming their expression as they meet the face of whatever’s about to be their end. You see the shadow of a Hydreigon looming on the wall behind them, slowly growing as the beast closes in on its prey…

Blake begins crying out desperately, helplessly flailing and kicking against their restraints, like a beetle turned over on its shell. Although their legs are untied, they seem unable to manage standing, incapable of running away as the creature prowls closer.

In the last few seconds of the video, you see the white glow of a charging Hyper Beam illuminate the room. And all that Blake can do is stare into the light, eyes bulged with horror. You catch a tear pricking through the corner of their eye right before the attack is unleashed.

A blinding, white hot light swallows the camera. You can barely hear Blake scream out one last time before it’s drowned out by a deafening explosion.

…The video feed cuts out. You didn’t get to see the aftermath, but… it’s not hard to guess what happened next.]

———

#interlude arc #ultra stakes pokeblogging #pkmn rp #pokeblog rp #pokeblogging #pokemon rp #pkmn irl #pokemon irl #pokemon #tw death #(( urk lemme know if there’s anything else I gotta tag- ))

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duhragonball · 10 days

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End of Evangelion: 25'

Yeah... that's...

"You don't understand!" is pretty much Neon Genesis Evangelion in a nutshell.

Or "You do (not) understand! (true²) Director's Cut" is how the franchise would put it.

Let's just get on with this.

I watched End of Evangelion last night. Well, early A.M. I took a nap and woke up at midnight and it seemed like the right time to watch a thing like this.

I did not enjoy the movie. I'll explain this, of course, but I wanted to get that out of the way up front. There are positives, sure, but I went into this thing hoping for a more satisfying conclusion than what was presented in the TV show, and I didn't get it. Both endings suck. There you go.

Let me back up a bit. So the TV series ran from 1995 to 1996. The final episodes, 25 and 26, were controversial because they were expected to wrap up the whole story, but instead they went in a bizarrely abstract direction. Both of those episodes apparently take place inside Shinji Ikari's mind as he struggles to accept being part of a collective gestalt of every human mind on Earth. This is the result of the "Human Instrumentality Project" a concept mentioned in Episodes 1 -24, but never adequately explained. The final episodes just skip past the part where Human Instrumentality was achieved and shows the result, without bothering to discuss the background or the cause, or the long-term ramifications.

From what I gather, the main reason Episodes 25 and 26 were Like That was because the studio was short on time and money, so a more satisfying conclusion was not practical. But since the series turned out to be so successful, they were able to take another crack at it with End of Evangelion. The film is very clear about its purpose as an "alternative" to Episodes 25 and 26. It's divided into two sections, numbered 25' and 26'.

I'm not sure the viewer is expected to pick one over the other. The original 25&26 take place in Shinji's mind when Human Instrumentality happens. 25' and 26' take place in the outside world, showing the events leading to Human Instrumentality and the aftermath. There may be some continuity issues to iron out, but a fan could easily accept both endings as canon.

That's not my problem here. The problem is not that there are multiple endings, or that the endings are too "abstract", or that the endings aren't "happy". Fundamentally, my gripe is that the endings are confusing. Perhaps it might be said that the endings are pathologically confusing.

I think this is one of those Big, Emotionally Raw Works, where you can't really discuss it without revealing something about yourself in the process. So let's do that. End of Evangelion makes me feel stupid. There's parts of the movie where I'm just completely confused and I have no idea what is happening or why. It feels less like entertainment and more like I'm about to take a test I didn't study for.

Except I did study, because I've literally been taking notes on this thing for the past three weeks. I was looking forward to this, and last night I'm near the end of the movie wondering what the hell I'm going to write here, because I don't understand what the hell happened in the movie.

So I poked around a fan wiki for a bit, trying to get a handle on some of the major concepts, and as I read the articles, I realized that a lot of this information just stone cold never made it into the TV show or the movie. There was one thing I looked up that had to reference a Playstation 2 game that released six years after the movie premiered.

It's not that I'm too stupid to understand Neon Genesis Evangelion. It's that the franchise appears deliberately designed to hide information from the viewer. You're just supposed to roll with it, I guess. Or spend days researching all this side material. Read the manga, read the wiki, read fan commentaries. I hate this. I hate this so much.

So maybe I'm not stupid. Maybe the anime was just badly designed. That would be comforting, except I still feel stupid for investing so much time into trying to understand this thing that seems purposely rigged to defy understanding. It's not just the ending. That's what everyone talks about, but the ending is just a symptom of a bigger problem. The beginning is really slow. Then the middle starts to get weird, and there's a lot of mysteries and subplots and lore that gets set up with the implied promise that "we'll explain later". And the ending(s) drop that ball. The surgery was a success, but the patient died.

I feel stupid because I got a reply to one of my liveblog posts, I think Episode 12, in response to some comment I made about all the characters having the same backstory. Ritsuko has a complicated relationship with her workaholic scientist mother. Misato has a complicated relationship with her workaholic scientist father. Shinji has a complicated relationship with his workaholic scientist father. Is that a theme or did they only have one idea? My point is that eventually it stops being clever and starts being redundant. Later, we learn that Asuka has... a complicated relationship with her workaholic scientist mother.

"What, are you stupid?" asked the reply guy to my wry observation. They deleted it a few minutes after I saw it, so maybe they felt some remorse over the comment. Normally, I let these things slide. I might respond if I get legitimately hot about it. But this one got to me. "Am I stupid?" I asked myself last week. I seem to be complaining a lot about this show, but it's supposed to be a classic. Am I not giving it a chance? Am I missing something here? Am I just not smart enough to appreciate this thing? Am I just not trying hard enough?

If you're reading this, Reply Guy, please know that I didn't take it personally. I'm not upset with you at all, but I am trying to be honest with myself about this. This Neon Genesis Evangelion business has been frustrating me all month long. Now I'm at the end and it all feels very hollow, like I wasted my time.

I think that's my philosophy on life. I try to seek out new things to explore, usually stories, and sometimes they don't work out the way I wanted them to, and that's okay, because it's the journey that counts. Shinji Ikari keeps shutting down throughout his story, asking why he should bother doing anything, because he's too terrified of the possible outcomes of his actions. My thing is that bad stuff happens all the time no matter what, and you just sort of have to recover and move forward, because that's the only way to see what happens next. So I'm not sure if I can relate to Shinji or not.

Anyway, let's talk about Shinji masturbating in a hospital room over Asuka's comatose body.

I had heard about this scene, but I didn't realize how long and pathetic it is. Asuka had a nervous breakdown in Episode 23. This movie has to follow up on that, becuase Episodes 24, 25, and 26 each refused to pick up on her character arc.

Meanwhile, Shinji is wracked with guilt and dread over his battle with the 17th Angel in Episode 24. He had to kill Kaworu, but in spite of Kaworu's betrayal, he was still a friend to Shinji when he needed it the most, and he was such a good sport about getting killed, you know?

So this movie has to get us back to that moment, when Shinji and Asuka are at their lowest ebb, and I guess they decided that Shinji should go see her in the hospital because he's desperate to talk to someone about what's he's been going through. But Asuka's unresponsive, so he starts shaking her like he's trying to wake her up. Instead she just rolls over, which somehow exposes her half-naked body, and Shinji is so overcome with lust that he rubs one out right there and then. Doesn't even get a Kleenex, doesn't find a place to sit, he just whips it out and goes to town right in front of her.

I guess this is supposed to be a joke, but it doesn't land. It's not even a matter of the joke not aging well. Yeah, this is a 27 year old movie, but Shinji admits this is terrible behavior almost immediately. The "joke" didn't age at all. It was stillborn. This is like when you go to a graveyard and you see one of the tiny graves and the dates are from the same year. That's how funny this is.

The most charitable reading I can give this scene is that it represents the hypocrisy of Shinji's whole deal. He constantly insists that he can only do as he's told, because he's afraid of people not liking him if he makes a mistake or thinks for himself. But here he's doing some pretty disgraceful shit, and I sure as fuck didn't tell him to do this. did you? Did anyone? Of course not. He goes limp for most of the rest of the movie, but not here. Nossir. Seems pretty sure of himself in the minute or so it took him to finish his business.

The other aspect of Shinji on display here is that his ideal social interactions are one-sided. He's most comfortable with people when they can't see what he's doing, when they can't touch him back. That's why he wished for isolation in Episode 25. Here, with Asuka unresponsive, he's basically got the same thing.

I suppose the flip side of this is when Asuka kissed Shinji in the TV series. Her hangups are kind of the opposite of his, where she wants to be in charge of everything and everyone constantly showers her with praise for her achievements. She wants to kiss Shinji but she can't be vulnerable enough to admit that, so she orders him to just stand there and be kissed because she wants to "pass the time". And she makes him hold his nose shut because she doesn't want to be breathed on while she does it. I mean, they both have intimacy issues, but at least Shinji had a chance to consent to her weirdness.

In the NERV base, the crew wonder why they're still on alert status, since the last Angel was defeated. There should be no more threats, and it kind of makes sense for NERV to be disbanded. The only business left is the Human Instrumentality Project, and none of these ham-and-eggers know what that is.

But Misato has some information about it, which she mulls over while she's in her car. I guess? Let me explain this in more detail, because the movie never totally gets into the "why" of it all.

Okay, so the SEELE group has access to something called the "Dead Sea Scrolls". According to the NGE wiki, SEELE got it from the two angels that came to Earth, Adam and Lilith, in the distant past. SEELE has used the information contained in the scrolls to establish themselves as the secret rulers of the whole world. And they founded NERV, and its predecessor organizations, to study the Angels and figure out how to preserve the human race.

They talk a lot about Second Impact on this show, but they never explain exactly what caused it. Second Impact was not a meteorite strike or a rampaging angel who self-destructed, or even a lab accident. It was caused deliberately by SEELE, as part of an effort to contain Adam, who lay dormant in Antarctica.

If I understand correctly, this was necessary because at some point, Second Impact would occur anyway, and then Adam's children, the fifteen Angels we saw in the TV series, would come looking for Adam's body and unite with it, triggering a Third Impact that would definitely wipe out humanity. This is all supposedly explained in the Dead Sea Scrolls.

So SEELE's play was to trigger Second Impact deliberately, so that they could confront the Angels on their own terms. This gave NERV time to develop the Evas to fight the Angels, and to shrink Adam down to a more manageable size so he'd be harder to find.

Once the Angels were all defeated, SEELE could then trigger Third Impact. See, the TV series made it seem like the objective was to prevent Third Impact, but that was never possible. Third Impact is inevitable, I guess, so the only way to ensure humanity's survival is to evolve humans into something that can withstand the disaster. Thus, the Human Instrumentality Project, which will combine all human minds into some sort of disembodied superorganism at the moment of Third Impact.

However, throughout the TV series, SEELE has butted heads with the NERV Director, Gendo Ikari, about how this plan is to be implemented. Gendo wants to transform humanity into something new. But SEELE seems to want to retain their human nature and just use the plan as a lifeboat until the disaster has passed. At least, I think that's the disagreement here. Like I said, I had to learn about SEELE's agenda from the description of the PS2 game. It's not exactly a shock that the cabal of worldly oligarchs should want to save themselves and hold onto their wealth and power at the same time.

Gendo, on the other hand, seems mostly fixated on reuniting with his wife, Yui Ikari, who apparently died in 2004 during an experiment with Eva Unit 01. In the TV series, it was heavily implied that Yui lives on inside of Unit 01. Since Gendo's version of Human Instrumentality involves drawing up human minds into a noncorporeal union, I guess he figures that this will include Yui's mind, even if she has no body. It's unclear in this movie if Gendo actually intends to include anyone but himself and Yui in this merger, but in Episodes 25 and 26 of the TV show, Human Instrumentality is presented like it's all humans, even dead ones, and Gendo Ikari talked about it like that's what his version of Third Impact was supposed to be.

I suppose the only thing keeping Gendo and SEELE from turning on each other was the Angel threat, but now that this is over, SEELE attacks. First they try to hack NERV's supercomputers, but this is foiled when they recruit the aid of...

...Ritsuko Akagai, who betrayed NERV in Episode 23 when she destroyed all the Rei clones they had in storage. But she's the only one smart enough with computers to block the hack, so she crawls back inside one of them and uses her dead mother's notes to build a more robust firewall or something. I think she j-pegged a RAM or something, I don't know.

Ritsuko wonders why she's even bothering, since she already turned on Gendo. They had been banging on the down-low, but she got fed up with him when she realized he loved his dead wife more than Ritsuko or her mother, who also used to bang Gendo on the down-low.

With that cyberattack fended off, NERV now has to brace for an actual attack. Admiral Clownshoes notes the irony of NERV defeating all those Angels, only for their final opponent to be the humans they were trying to save.

Tactically, the entire battle is a formality. SEELE runs the whole world, and they can send wave after wave of soldiers into the NERV facility, which is already badly weakened after months of Angel attacks and budget cuts. NERV's defenses were designed for dealing with Angels, and their greatest weapons were the Evas, except Unit-00 was destroyed in Episode 22, and Unit-02's pilot has lost the ability to sync. Nonetheless, Misato wants the pilot kids secured, since she knows SEELE's goons will try to take them out first. She orders Shinji to deploy in Unit-01, and even though Asuka's in no condition to fight, she has her put in Unit-02 and then sent to the bottom of the lake. It's not much of a hiding place, but at least she'll be safer there than inside the base.

Where's Rei? Well, no one can find her, but she's gone down to the room where they keep Lilith and she's soaking in that orange goop they have down there.

Perhaps anticipating this, Gendo excuses himself and orders Clownshoes to take over the defense of the base. Clownshoes seems to know what he's up to, and sends his regards to Gendo's dead wife.

At this point, it's basically a race to see who can trigger their version of Third Impact first. SEELE wanted to use the Lance of Longinus and Lilith somehow, but since the Lance is in space now, they now plan to use Unit-01, the only Eva created from Lilith. That's what makes it special, apparently. Units 00 and 02 were made from Adam, I guess?

Anyway, Gendo plans to do it by combining Adam and Lillith together. He's got Adam's body within his own, and he wants to join with Rei, who contains some essence of Lillith. This was Rei's main purpose all along, I think.

Meanwhile, Misato leaves her post to find Shinji, who was sulking in some corner instead of reporting to his Eva like she ordered. She saves him from some goons, but they're cut off from Unit-01, so she has to find a way to get him where he needs to go. She also has to convince him to cooperate, since Shinji's completely gone to mush in the midst of this new crisis.

As she drives him to where they need to go, she explains (most of) the necessary backstory to him. Second Impact was triggered deliberately to buy time for Human Instrumentality, and humans are descended from Lilith, just as the Angels came from Adam. So in that sence, the human species is collectively the 18th Angel, just another candidate to inherit the future of Earth. Humans, like any of the fifteen Angels spawned from Adam, have the opportunity to trigger Third Impact and secure their place as the dominant life form of Earth, but we had to beat all the Angels first to do it, and then find a way to survive Third Impact when it finally happened.

And while Gendo plans to do with with Adam and Lilith, SEELE wants to use the Eva series, somehow, so it's vital that Shinji use Unit-01 to destroy all the other Evas.

Speaking of destroying Evas, Asuka finally wakes up in Unit-02, which is currently getting battered with depth charges. She still can't control the Eva, and she just keeps whimpering that she doesn't want to die. Eventually, she hears her dead mother promising to protect Asuka, and she realizes the truth: that Asuka's mother, Kyoko Zeppelin, was absorbed into Unit-02, much the same way Shinji's mom was absorbed into Unit-01.

Now, at long last, Asuka can operate her Eva again, and she goes apeshit on the SEELE troops. They sever her power cable, but she doesn't care, boasting that five minutes is plenty of time to take out these creeps. This is honestly the best part of the movie, because they had reduced Asuka to a pitiful shell for so long, and now she's finally taking charge and whoopin' ass.

It won't last.

With the conventional forces beaten, SEELE sends in nine Eva Units of their own. These are units 05 through 13, but they all look the same, and I'm not even sure they have pilots. It's a pretty cool design for a "bad guy" Eva, but they don't figure into the plot very much. They're here to destroy Asuka and Unit-02, and Asuka has to destroy them to stop SEELE.

Meanwhile, Misato has almost gotten Shinji to the Unit-01 launch bay, but she got shot, so she tells Shinji he's on his own from here. Shinji continues to resist taking any responsibility here. He says he's not worthy to pilot the Eva because he hurts people. He killed Kaworu, and he "did something terrible to Asuka". So at least the movie recognizes that. I guess it was included just to show the audience that Shinji isn't exaggerating when he doubts himself like this.

Misato refuses to indulge his self-pity, and she doesn't care how much he cries or tries to use his past actions to disqualify himself. She tells him she's made plenty of her own mistakes, but she still learned something about herself anyway. Hey, I guess Misato kind of gets what I was saying earlier. I guess this makes her my favorite character?

Well, yeah, but I don't like how she gives him a long kiss goodbye, then promises they'll "do the rest" when he gets back. I mean, she dies immediately after he leaves, so I think she was just feeding him empty gestures to motivate him while she still could, but... that's kind of fucked up.

Meanwhile, Gendo and Rei reach the room where Lillith is to begin their attempt at Third Impact, but they find Ritsuko waiting for them. She pulls a gun on Gendo and tells him that she sabotaged the supercomputer while she was reprogramming it to stop SEELE's hackers. Except... when she tries to execute her plan, the computer doesn't do it. This is because it's been imprinted with the mind of its original creator, Ritsuko's mother, and apparently mom still carries a torch for Gendo, even after Gendo screwed both Akagis over. Gendo then pulls a gun on Ritsuko, and says "I truly..." but the sound cuts out as he says the rest of it, so we don't know what he wanted to tell her.

In any case, she calls him a liar after she hears it, so either he told her he loved her and she didn't buy it, or he said something really cruel and she knew he didn't mean it. Either way, Gendo shoots, her which normally would suggest his true feelings, except I think this Human Instrumentality business works on dead people too, so life and death kind of becomes meaningless in this movie. We see a ghostly apparition of Rei as Ritsuko falls into the LCL fluid. We also saw ghost Rei when Misato died, so this seems to be a thing now.

Meanwhile, Shinji makes it to Unit 01, but it's immersed in Bakelite, which Misato had ordered dispersed through the base to impede the invading goons. I'm not sure how it got here, though, unless the bad guys used Misato's own trick to secure Unit-01. So it looks like Shinji can't get in the robot, even though it's not a robot, and he doesn't even have to be inside the stupid thing to control it. He literally proved that on his first day on the job. Yo, Shinji, get in the robot, your mom loves you.

Meanwhile, Asuka seems to be doing just fine killing the bad guy Evas without Shinji, but just as she finishes the last of them off, the Lance of Longinus suddenly flies back to Earth and improbably stabs Unit 02 through the face. Uh... how? Why? What the fuck?

Also, all the Evas Asuka defeated suddenly reactivate. With her battery drained, Asuka is helpless to stop them as they crack open Unit-02 and eat it. I'm pretty sure Asuka herself is killed during this, but we don't see a body.

I guess this was the catalyst to get Unit 01 off its duff, as it finally breaks out of the Bakelite and grabs Shinji like it's gonna put him in. Unit 01 busts out to join the battle, and it's thig big impressive spectacle. It even has angel wings now.

But it doesn't actually do anything. Shinji just gets a look at what's left of Unit-02's mangled corpse and screams.

And that's the cliffhanger for 25'. There's a credits sequence, then a dedication note from the director, and then the second half starts as Episode 26'. So this is a good place to take a break.

If you're curious, the part where Eva 05-13 show up to confront Asuka is about where things ended in "Evangelion: Rebirth". But 25' is about twenty minutes longer than that, so I'm not sure what the significance of that cutoff point was supposed to be. I guess it works as a cliffhanger, but it's kind of dumb to have Asuka finally wake up and kick ass, only to get utterly destroyed a few minutes later. Then Shinji shows up to set up the real cliffhanger.

To be fair, this half of the movie is better than the second half. Mostly, it benefits from the parts where they actually show the characters recovering from Episode 24 and beginning to move to the next phase of the story. This was what the TV show failed to do with its Episode 25. Now, we get to see the SEELE vs. NERV battle that was only implied before, and we get to see how Human Instrumentality is arranged.

We also see why it needs to be done. In the original ending, it seemed completely arbitrary, like Gendo Ikari just decided this was a cool thing to try and he just did it to the whole world without asking anyone's permission. Here, it becomes clear that if Gendo doesn't pull the trigger, SEELE will, and it's just a race to see who can get their vision accomplished first.

And we actually get to see the other characters in this version. Asuka wakes up and gets her groove back, Rei's part in the drama is revealed, and Ritsuko and Misato get shot. Seeing this stuff makes me even more irritated that the TV series just jumped right past it all.

Still, this half of the movie has problems. For one thing, a lot of runtime is spent just showing troops slaughtering NERV personnel, and showing Misato leading Shinji to his Eva. Also, there's a healthy dose of Gendo and Rei just staring pensively at Lilith without actually doing anything. A lot of the footage doesn't actually progress the plot, and only Misato and Shinji's scenes are useful for providing exposition. Gendo and SEELE's words are too cryptic to be of much use.

The main point of this installment was to reinforce things we already knew: Rei's important to all of this somehow, Shinji is a sad sack, and Asuka is helpless. And maybe it needed to be reinforced in July 1997, more than a year after the TV show ended, but I don't think it needed to be hammered home this much.

And like I said from the start, this whole thing relies on a lot of ridiculous stuff that I feel like I should have been told about in the TV series. How did the Lance of Longinus come back? SEELE couldn't have arranged this, since they were the ones who were so upset about losing it in the first place. Why are there two methods to trigger Third Impact? How did Asuka's mother get sucked into the Eva and yet she remained in human form long enough to go insane and hang herself? Why did the bad guy Evas suddenly recover from their injuries when it was convenient for the plot?

Perhaps most critically: Why are they just treating Third Impact and Human Instrumentality like the same thing? Like if you do one, then the other one just automatically happens? Is that how it works? Then why were they so worried about the progress on that project? It could be done at will, right?

Oh, and how did SEELE figure out how to do all this stuff? They have their own fleet of Evas, which seem to work better than NERV's. They made their own Angel in the form of Kaworu. They seem to know how to make Third Impact happen, without Gendo's help. And however they got this far, they seemed to pull it off without anyone from NERV knowing about it. So why did SEELE even need NERV in the first place? As it currently stands, the only reason Gendo's ahead of them is because he's physically closer to what he needs to work with. SEELE could have nuked the base from orbit and hauled Eva Unit 01 from the wreckage.

Again, the whole movie just makes me feel like I missed an episode, except I didn't. I watched the whole thing, which leads me to assume that the next chapter will clarify everything, except it doesn't, as we'll see next time. See you there.

#neon genesis evangelion #2024ngeliveblog #end of evangelion #shinji ikari #asuka langley soryu #rei ayanami #misato katsuragi #ritsuko akagi #clownshoes

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tavyliasin · 2 months

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Iron Flowers Never Wilt - Barcus Wroot One Shot

Written for the Baldur's Date SFW Event, and inspired by my inbox~

Barcus Wroot has a little problem. It has been a long time since he's thought about finding a new...friend...and now someone has caught his eye, he isn't exactly sure what he should be doing about it.

Lucky for him, he has had the good fortune to have met a certain group of misfits who all have their own idea of romance. Can they help him plan the perfect date for the one he wants to woo?...

Pairing: Barcus Wroot/Zevlor SPICE Rating: 0.5/5 (mild suggestive language) Content Warnings: None, it's all fluffy

Spoilers Act 3 Mild Spoilers Canon Compliance In the very vaguest sense, this has little to do with canon. It's mostly indulgent fluff and an exploration of the different characters' attitudes to romance. Other Notes There are a few background pairings in here because it felt fun, and it was nice to look at how those dynamics might affect how the companions suggest solving the issue at hand.

Song/Mood Love Exists by Amy Lee "It can be born anywhere In the last place you'd expect In a way you'd never dream It can grow from nothing And blossom in a second A single glance is all it takes To get inside you

Invading every thought And every beat of your heart Love can make you scream And it can leave you speechless Love has a thousand stems But only one flower"

Full Chapter below the cut! Or Click Here for AO3 7,288 words ----- -----

Iron Flowers Never Wilt

Barcus Wroot found himself walking along the streets of the lower city as his feet carried him without thinking towards the Elfsong Tavern. He had precious few associates that he could rely on, but rely on them he would have to if he wanted anything to change in this miserable city.

The bartender sent him up the stairs to a large wooden door, which he knocked on gingerly, half thinking to change his mind and walk back out when a familiar face appeared at the open door above him. “It’s…you? I wasn’t expecting a visit, but you’re welcome to come in. Sorry about the mess, there’s a lot of us staying in here right now… You know how it is, right Barcus? You make the best of what you have.” Tav was already talking far too much, infuriating the part of the deep gnome that felt a spike of jealousy for how easily she gathered people to her. It was far too irritating to see how nice she was, and how she was clearly dropping everything she had been planning just to make time to speak with him because he turned up. “Well? To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Right. About that- ah, that will do.” He took the goblet of wine handed to him and sat on the array of floor cushions opposite Tav in a wide open space between some beds at the far side of the room. “I might need some…advice. About something that has been troubling me. And you seemed about as adequate as any other option.” His request sounded hollow even to his own ears, the veiled insults a poor disguise for the plain fact that it was not a short trip across the city to get here nor an easy one.

Tav frowned, her expression quickly darkening with a low fury. “If it’s about that Wulbren fucking Bongle again-”

“No, no. Not any more. That ship has sailed, and, well, I’m looking at what else might be in the harbour.” He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “It’s… It has been quite some time since I tried to make a new friend. ”

“You have a crush on someone~” Tav teased with a grin. “Good for you! Who’s the lucky one that caught your eye?”

“Maybe I made a mistake coming here, you’ll only make fun of me again.” He tried to stand to leave, but the offer of a top up of the wine changed his mind.

“I’ll be nice, I promise. And I will help if I can - it’s about time you had something nice to look forward to.” She smiled more softly, getting more comfortable on the cushions and gesturing for him to tell the tale.

“Well, we first crossed paths - albeit briefly - back on the coast, before I encountered those wretched goblins.” He began, taking another long sip of the wine. “Didn’t think much then, I had other things to think of.”

“Of course, you were very dedicated to your search.”

“For all the good that did me.” Barcus sighed, fussing with the edge of his shirt hem for a moment. “Well, when next we crossed paths it was in that godsforsaken prison - but he was taken away before we could speak much. Though you know me, I know when to listen . The things his friends said about him, and all the things they didn’t say that were far more important.”

“I think I have an idea who you mean, but do go on. I’m listening. What next?” Tav tried to give him a little encouragement, but the alcohol seemed to be more effective at that as he emptied the glass.

“Next thing I know, we’re all on the march to the city again - thanks to our gallant rescuers, I suppose - and we didn’t cross paths much until after you took care of the blasted Steel Watch… Horrible machines, almost as horrible as the bloody runepowder. Mortals shouldn’t have that much power in their hands if you ask me. Which…you did not. But you understand, you must do. Hero type and all that.” He was gesturing a little more with his hands now his glass was empty, tongue loosening as he continued. “But then there he was, carrying this horrifically big sack of food and other supplies - gods know how - so I offered to help. Nothing better to do, you see, and it made for a nice excuse.”

“A burden shared is a burden halved, right?” Tav took his empty glass and put it to one side with her own, resting her chin on her hands as he finally approached the point.

“Maybe not quite half, he’s a little bigger than me, but I took what I could carry for him. Turns out we were going round to the refugees in the outskirts. Not just the Tieflings, either. He made sure his people were fed first, but nobody went hungry. When we were finally done he had a small loaf of bread and a lump of old cheese. Do you know what he did? He sat with me on the grass, broke it in half, and gave me the larger pieces! Who even does that? I’ll tell you who - Zevlor!” Barcus had been growing more animated with every word, and finally with that clear admission he let go of tension he hadn’t realised he’d still been clinging to. “I’ve only gone and fallen for a Paladin, a proper leader - despite what he will try and tell you - but what am I even supposed to do about that? I’m just…Barcus Wroot. Doomed adventurer, occasional tinkerer, and if personal history is anything to go by, a terrible judge of who should be a… friend .”

“You can just say boyfriend or partner, Barcus. It won’t kill you to admit you have feelings for someone.”

“You don’t know that, knowing my poor fortunes it just might.”

“Don’t be silly.” Tav shrugged and smiled in that terribly disarming way she always did. “You have plenty to offer, you just need to work out how you want to approach him. When was the last time you went on a date?”

“That… I don’t recall.” He thought back, frown deepening as he realised exactly how true that was. “How am I meant to find out?”

“Well, there are lots of ways to seduce someone-”

“Slow down, I’m not trying to be seductive -”

“Alright, maybe I’m not the best person to ask about romance …” Tav sat back, fidgeting a little with her hands as if counting off different options, before settling on the solution. “Everyone has a different idea of what romantic might mean, how to show someone you’re interested. Why don’t you talk to everyone, and see what they say? You don’t have to tell them who you’re thinking of, just open the conversation, make a decision after you’ve heard from them all.”

“And they’re just going to take time out of their day to talk to me, just like that? You might be living carefree up here, but most everyone else has their own business to take care of.” He paused, relenting a little at the look on her face. “No offence meant, of course, I’m sure you have…some kind of heroics to do, business to meddle in…”

Tav shrugged once more, meeting his eye with a more serious look. “Well there is that little matter of what’s causing the earthquakes beneath the city, trying to keep my friends alive in the middle of about 20 fights per day… I have a list, actually, if you wanted to-”

His expression fell, ears drooping a little as a slight blush of shame threatened to creep more visibly into his cheeks. “No, no, you’ve made your point. I apologise. And thank you, for making time for my little issue.”

“It has been nice, actually, to sit and talk about something that isn’t world-ending or immediately life-threatening. I’ll let a few of my companions know that they should expect you, but put yourself out there a little too - you never know who might have the clue you need to figure it all out.” She stood, dusting off her armour, before putting the used glasses and empty bottle over on the table. “Good luck, Barcus, but I don’t think you’ll need it.”

“Good luck to you too, with all the, you know, world ending peril and all that.” He paused after standing, hesitating to leave. “Oh and I should also show a little gratitude for your kindness. Not to me, to Zevlor. Something you said to him, it seems to have given him a bit more of that fire back that the other refugees spoke of from his past. It suits him, even if he wears it like an ill fitting jerkin for now.”

He began to make his way to the door, when a chilling voice - as cold as death’s fingers caressing the back of his mind - crept into his ears. “Thou art courageous to seek new connections, gnome.”

Barcus turned to see the withered husk of what once might have resembled a man, clad in loose robes with gold clinging to his body in lines akin to jewellery, or perhaps an artistic form of pottery repair holding his wrinkled form together. “I…umm…I should be going.”

“Thou art most welcome to speak with me a while, shouldst thou so wish.” Withers continued, a wry smile on his near-skeletal features.

“I’ll consider your offer,” Barcus replied hurriedly, “but for now I’ll try my luck with the living.”

As the door closed, Tav shot a look at the being in the corner. “You almost killed him with fright.”

“Bringing him back to his mortal coil would be a trivial matter.” Withers shrugged.

“Yes, but dying isn’t a pleasant experience to us mortals. Dare I say it might even traumatise the poor man far more than he deserves.” It was likely pointless to argue with a being who treated life and death as an easy matter, like tossing a coin, but he seemed to relent.

“Then might I recommend that thou pack more potions, lest thou find thyself in need of my services before the sun sets?”

“Thank you.” She frowned. “I think.”

—

Karlach was whistling and almost skipping down the street when she damn near ran into Barcus as he tried to wave her down.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise you were looking for me!” She had stopped in her tracks just short of him, putting her axe head on the ground and leaning on the haft. “What’s up?”

“Of course you wouldn’t realise, with your head in the clouds…” He grumbled a moment, before swiftly remembering what he wanted to ask. “Well, you see-”

“Wait, is this about that thing that Tav told me about?” Karlach’s face lit up with excitement. “Ooh I know just the thing!”

Barcus took a step back involuntarily. “I’m suddenly reconsidering the wisdom of consulting someone with such a…fiery constitution.”

“Oh come off it, soldier! I’m a love expert! Well, I am now I’m not turning everything I touch to ash. So, have you tried just telling him what you want?” The tiefling’s grin was joined by a wink that was far too obvious for his comfort.

“I could never be so bold! It’s far too early to be thinking of any night-time shenanigans, thank you very much.” His blush coloured his grey skin from his neck to his ears with a subtle pink that felt hotter than the woman’s mechanical heart.

“Not that! Well, if you want to, you could-” She laughed as his pink hue deepened. “What I mean is, talk to him. If you don’t tell him how you feel, how is he ever going to know?”

“What if I don’t know how I feel?”

“You’ll work it out!” She gave him what she judged to be a friendly shove, though like an overly excited dog that still thinks it’s a pup she put a bit too much strength into it and left him staggering back a few steps. “Oh, gods, sorry… Guess I don’t know my own strength. Don’t overthink it too much.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “Let your heart do the talking for a change, not your head, and listen to it. You never know what it might tell you.”

“That’s…surprisingly astute, Karlach.” He rubbed his shoulder slightly, but his expression had softened. This was certainly one thing to consider.

“I know, right?! I surprise myself too some days!” She grinned again, slinging her axe back over her shoulder. “Have a bit of courage, you’ll be just fine.”

As Barcus watched her carry on down the street with a spring in her step, he wondered how she got to be so strong - not just the clear muscles of her body, but that extra glow from something else behind her smile. —

The next one he encountered made him reconsider the idea entirely. Red eyes and white hair seemed to almost glow eerily in the sunlight - something about Astarion always felt decidedly unnatural to Barcus, but just as he turned to walk away before he was spotted, he heard that awfully flirty voice.

“Well, hello~” Astarion quickly caught up to him, tapping him on the shoulder with a pale and slender finger. “My darling told me you were looking for a little advice, and far be it from me to turn down one of her requests, especially when she asked so nicely~” The flash of sharp teeth was even more unnerving, but there was no stepping away now.

Barcus sighed. “Alright then, what is it you recommend? I suggest not advising I go picking any pockets, or breaking into his home in the middle of the night-”

“Perish the thought! You’d never get past the first lock.” The pale elf laughed, testing his patience further. “Naturally I am not in the slightest bit serious.”

“Could you try? Even just a little bit serious might be preferable.” He huffed. “I didn’t come here to get mocked, if I wanted that I’d visit the circus.”

“Hmm…not a bad idea, but I doubt your date is fond of the circus.” Astarion stroked his chin in thought. “You need to find his weakness. The places you can stick your dagger - metaphorically, of course - to get into his armour. That part can be literally , if you like.”

“Are you all this utterly depraved?” Barcus could feel a slight headache returning.

“Only for the right people~” The elf smiled a little more naturally this time, which was somehow an even more terrifying sight. “I do mean what I said. Learn all you can about him, and use that to your advantage. Think of it as a battle, and you are getting to know your enemy before taking them on.”

“I’d rather not think of him as an enemy…but I suppose I know what you’re implying. I shall give it some more thought.” He began to leave again, wondering if a battle of wits was really the wisest plan-

“You are most welcome, my good sir~” Astarion called out, in a mocking tone.

Barcus sighed. “You have my gratitude. Even if I don’t entirely agree with your thesis on how to handle people.”

“It works, gnome, don’t forget it.” The elf was gone by the time he turned around, no doubt slipping down an alley or hiding in some shadow waiting to pounce on some unsuspecting fool…

Barcus shook his head, that wasn’t a particularly generous thought. There had been an attempt at sound advice, and it might have some value to it if he changed the context a little.

—

Feeling a little tired of the louder member’s of Tav’s group, Barcus decided to seek out the wizard next. He seemed to be more level headed, calm, and Tav mentioned the man might well be in that magic shop, Sorcerous Undies? Didn’t matter, it was a place full of books and magic where the famous Gale of Waterdeep might be-

“You cannot be serious! If you were to use Leomund’s Tiny Hut in that kind of an area, well it’s foolish at best, if it doesn’t outright get you killed by the time it fades in the morning! No, you need to be far more careful, you see-” The voice carried all the way out onto the street, passionately arguing about…well, Barcus could not care any less if he tried. And for a moment, he did try.

He sighed, rubbed his aching temples with his fingertips, and steeled himself to enter.

Inside the shop, Gale was indeed deep in some kind of debate with a couple of younger apprentice-looking types, ill-fitted robes hanging off them like they had been passed down through the family line hoping to carry a hint of pride with their fancy stitching. Luckily for the gnome, it seemed like the conversation was wrapping up as Gale threw his hands in the air in a gesture of frustrated defeat, turning on his heel and striding towards the door.

“Ah, excuse me!” Barcus called out to the wizard as he walked past muttering something about grateful brats not listening. “Could I- Just for a minute?”

“Oh! Yes, yes of course, please forgive my rudeness, you see I was just explaining to those-”

“Spare me the magic lecture, if you don’t mind.” He quickly stopped the oncoming onslaught of complaints before the man could hit his stride with them. “Do you have any advice of the, uh, other nature?” “You seem terribly uncomfortable - there’s a nice bench around the corner, let’s take a seat there for a while and talk in peace, shall we?” Gale outstretched an arm to indicate the direction they should go, and fell into step with Barcus, matching his pace with care. “There, that should do nicely, don’t you think?”

“Yes, very picturesque, I’m sure.” The view from the bench across the lower city was certainly an interesting one. Tumble-down shacks dotted between others that were maintained in a manner that required almost daily repairs. Smoke curled up from one or two alleys, and the only buildings that were completely stable had an air of ominous foreboding to them that kept all but the bravest - or most foolish - souls far from their doors.

“It has it’s charm.” Gale laughed quietly. “At least, that’s what the locals tell me when trying to get me to buy one of those seafront properties . But we aren’t here to discuss the finer points of home ownership in Baldur’s Gate, now, are we?”

“No,” he replied, feeling a little more at ease in the company of the wizard than the others so far, “no we are not. I was hoping you might have some advice of the amorous persuasion.”

“Ahh romance! I’ve raided many a library shelf for novels of that nature, some quite racy pieces too - you know there was one with a gnome and a tiefling where-”

“Gods, are you all insatiable?” Barcus groaned, it seemed he was running out of luck again with a group that might as well be putting succubus saliva in their porridge. “I don’t want to think about any of that, thank you very much.” At least, not yet , he added in his mind alone.

“Well, it wasn’t all about the, uh, naughty bits , you know. It was actually a very sweet romance. You see, it turns out that although they lived very different lives, when they shared more time together they realised they had a lot of smaller things in common. Their favourite fruit, the places they wanted to visit, even their careers had some unexpected parallels.” Gale looked down at him now, though he was still too caught up in his thoughts to look anywhere but his fidgeting hands as he mumbled.

“I don’t know, maybe there’s something similar in what we do now? But I’m no warrior and he’s no tinkerer, that’s for sure. But we both have people looking up to us, relying on us, and…well I know he didn’t fail his friends as badly as he thinks he did, but I… Well maybe the fruit is something to go on? And we do live in the same city now, that’s certainly a…very boring thing to have in common. Plenty of people live here that’s not special.” He sighed, letting his shoulders slump forwards.

“Maybe you should read a few books - now I know that life isn’t exactly a fairytale, we’re living proof of that,” Gale winked and idly fiddled with his earring, “but there’s still plenty to be learned when you read between the lines on the written page. It certainly couldn’t hurt to try, now, could it? I’ll have a few sent over to you by courier tomorrow - they’re a little heavy for the pigeon post.”

“At the very least they might bore me to sleep.” Barcus resigned himself to the no-doubt oversized reading list that would be on his table by morning. “I will keep in mind what you said, though, you seem the most level headed amongst your companions if nothing else.”

“I shall choose to take that as a compliment, such as it is. Maybe even high praise coming from you!” The wizard laughed warmly, pressing his hands to his knees before standing with a sigh. “Well, I must be off for now. I am happy to have been some assistance. I wish you all the best with your romantic endeavours.”

—

Barcus stayed on the bench for a while, contemplating his options as he watched the lower city’s denizens going about their business down below. He almost didn’t notice when a large shadow blocked out the light from behind him.

“Don’t panic there, friend, just an old druid stopping by for a chat.” Halsin stepped around the side of the bench, careful to keep from unblocking the sun into Barcus’s eyes. Something about the quiet compassion of the druid reminded him of Zevlor. He sighed slightly before he could stop himself. “I know that look - worry not, I am not here to deliver a lecture or try to persuade you into something you are not comfortable with.” Halsin’s smile was as warm as the scent of wood, moss, and leather drifting from his huge form. “I apologise too, on behalf of my loves, if either of them were too…forward, with their advice.”

Barcus found it was very hard to be frustrated by anything the large elf did, though perhaps that in itself was what irked him at times. “You knew Zevlor, did you not?”

“Only for a brief time. His group were not at the Grove long before my untimely capture by our mutual foes.” Halsin looked out into the distance for a moment, as if trying to see the memories clearer in the clouds themselves. “He is a very devoted man, a far better match for you than your previous beloved.”

“Yes…well, perhaps it took me a little too long to learn the hard way. But I am here now, in one piece no thanks to him.” He shoved the thoughts from his mind, unwilling to dwell on that sneering face and harsh voice that tried to erode his self-esteem even as he clawed it back for himself each day. “There has to be something you know about him that could help me, he does not open up easily. Even just a favourite food is a start.”

“Ah now that one I can help with.” Halsin reached into the bag he had been carrying, pulling out a few pieces of fresh fruit. “I seem to recall the old Hellrider had a fondness for pears. Take them, I can find more - I do not mind another excuse to take a trip out of these stone walls and back into nature’s embrace.”

“That is…well, most kind of you. Thank you. Though I don’t think handing him a couple of fruits is really going to be any kind of a romantic gesture.” He carefully wrapped the fruits in some clean cloths and stowed them in his pack where they would not get damaged.

“Perhaps you should find an excuse to leave the city, spend some time in the wild.”

“I’ve spent quite enough time traipsing through mud and trees, I still have scars on the back of my head from the brambles.” Barcus grumbled, idly rubbing at the fine faint lines that marked his scalp.

“Well, it needn’t be the woods for you then. The point is, take him somewhere nice. Somewhere that is special for him, for you, or just somewhere different that can become special by being there together.”

“You know, I didn’t take you to be a romantic sort, druid.” He mused out loud, raising an eyebrow quizzically at the larger man and earning a soft chuckle in response.

“There is much you don’t know about me, my friend. But that’s alright, I have a feeling our paths may cross a few times yet - though hopefully under these more pleasant circumstances than most of the last times we have met.” Halsin laid a very gentle hand on his shoulder, even for his size he was far more careful with his strength than Karlach had been. “Take care of yourself, and of Zevlor too. The old warrior still has some fight in him yet, but that does not mean he should be so quick to throw himself to it.”

“That much we can certainly agree upon.” Barcus began to stand, carefully picking up his bag. “Thank you for taking the time to sit with me. Perhaps it would be beneficial for our paths to cross more often in peaceable times.”

“I would enjoy that.” Halsin leaned back comfortably on the bench, enjoying the moment with the sun warming his back as the gnome made his way back out into the city.

---

The Githyanki stood out like a sore thumb in the crowd, her armour shining in the sunshine and her large sword strapped as ever to her back ready to be brandished at a moment’s notice should anyone be foolish enough to ignore the warning of her frown.

Lae’zel was intimidating, but Barcus reminded himself he had no real reason to fear the woman. As terrifying as she looked, she was neither malevolent nor an enemy. If anything, she was an ally he would be glad to have standing between him and whatever danger did not run from the sight of her.

“Ah, I had been told to expect you, though I hope you do not expect me to give you poetry or grand advice on romance.” She greeted him with the usual straightforward manner. It was at least easier to deal with one who spoke clearly and freely.

“I would be concerned if you did, to be honest.” He followed her to stand in a slightly quieter side street as they spoke. “Tchk. Actually, the githyanki people have several thousand poems and romantic overtures inscribed into our zaithisks, but I have been informed that the more sensual nature of the works would not suit your tastes.” Lae’zel’s expression gave little clue as to whether or not she was being serious, but she gave him no time to consider it further. “I will keep it simple and to the point. Zevlor is a paladin, a mighty warrior - no matter how far from his home he has travelled he has a warrior’s heart. Remind him of this, and become the new home that he can fight for.”

Barcus felt his headache returning as the creases on his forehead deepened. “I appreciate who he was, who he is, but I do not want to see him throw himself headlong into an early grave.”

“You are hearing, Istik, but you are not listening . If he has a reason to come home safely, then when he inevitably goes to fight - as his heart will be drawn to by its very nature - he will not be so reckless.” She smiled, much to his surprise, her thumb idly caressing the petal of a small flower tucked into her belt by her hip. “Become the thing he does not want to lose by giving him the strength to be the man he most wishes to be.”

“That is oddly reassuring…” Barcus mumbled slightly quieter than he meant to, beginning to work out how all of the pieces fit together.

“So that’s where you’d run off to.” Another voice came from behind, startling him from his thoughts. “I thought we were to meet in the-” Shadowheart stopped as she stepped around and saw who Lae’zel had been speaking with. “Fancy seeing you here, though if you are done… Lae’zel, you can go on ahead of me and reserve the table, I shall give our friend a little advice. You weren’t too hard on him were you?”

“Tchk. You are lucky I am so fond of you and your little jokes. Do not be too long, the heat has left me hungry.” The gith gave a short nod of a bow, which Barcus returned, before walking back out onto the main street.

“You will have to forgive her abrasive nature, sometimes she forgets that not everyone was raised in an astral battleground.” Shadowheart observed him carefully, her pale hair catching the light even in the shade of the buildings.

“She was actually very insightful. Pleasant, almost.” He glanced over his shoulder, confirming with a small measure of relief that she had indeed left them alone. He wasn’t sure how she would take such a compliment.

“But only almost?” Shadowheart chuckled, her hand drifting to a familiar looking blossom tucked into her breastplate. “I know what you’re going to ask about, but it is more simple than you think. Memories, Barcus, they make us who we are. Even when they’re hard to grasp, they’re still a part of us. The two of you have some unpleasant ones from your lives up to this point, but you have plenty of time left ahead.”

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at, how does this help me get to know him, or even to get close to him?” He grumbled, longing for someone who might talk more simply again.

“What I mean to say is that what is important now is to make new memories. Together. Spend moments together that neither of you can forget, let those be the thoughts and feelings that bind you. Dwelling on your history would be painful, and I’m not saying you should forget it either, but put your focus on the present and the future.” She knelt for a moment and straightened his jacket collar much in the way a sibling might. “Show him who you are and become unforgettable.” The meaning in her last words carried a strange echo of what Lae’zel had told him just moments ago. The thought lingered even as she bid him a swift farewell and left with hurried steps to catch up to her… friend . Definitely very good friends, he thought with a wry smile. —

A few ideas were kicking around in his head as he carried on up the hill towards the Forge of the Nine, hoping that speaking to someone else who knew Zevlor for longer might be able to confirm his ideas.

The sound of metal being hammered into submission echoed down the street, the slight burning smell of the Forge carried with it on the breeze. That meant Dammon would be hard at work as usual, though he seemed to be deep in conversation even as he brought his tools down upon the anvil with staggering force.

Rounding the corner, it became clear that it was Wyll stood with the Tiefling as he worked. Excellent , Barcus realised, that’s two targets, one arrow .

“And there’s nothing else you can do?” Wyll’s voice was plaintive and clear.

“Not yet, I’m afraid. But as soon as there is, you’ll be the first to know, I promise you that.” Dammon wiped the sweat from his brow, quenching the small blade carefully. “Ah, it seems I have an unexpected customer - good to see you again, my friend.”

Barcus felt the warmth of the greeting was perhaps a little too familiar given the scant few times they had crossed paths, but he had heard plenty from around the town about how the blacksmith was one of the most trusted and welcoming in the entire city. And he had barely moved in a couple of tendays ago. “Dammon, Wyll.” He nodded politely to each in turn.

“I hear you’re looking for advice on your potential suitor, Barcus, and I’d say you’ve come to just the right place.” Wyll gestured to a nearby table. “Why don’t the three of us take a seat for a minute? I’m sure the smithy here could use a break from his fire for a few minutes at least.”

“That wouldn’t be a terrible idea,” Dammon agreed, setting his gloves to one side and wiping the sooty residue from his hands as Barcus pulled up a chair and took a seat. “But unfortunately I doubt I’m much help with whoever it is you’re looking to charm. I barely know anyone in this city.”

“The word is,” Wyll leaned in conspiratorially, “our serious looking friend here has his heart set on a certain Elturian Paladin.”

“Well, in that case there…is still not a lot I can tell you, I’m afraid.” Dammon’s smile was almost as warm as the forge itself, bringing over a large jug and a set of simple cups to the table as he and Wyll took their seats. “We weren’t close in Elturel, but I can tell you he’s a good man.”

“A man of honour,” Wyll quickly agreed, still not leaving the gnome any room to get a word in edgeways, “so you should do well to remember that in your courtship.”

Finally, an empty second appeared as the cups were filled with water that Wyll quickly chilled with a cantrip as Barcus seized the opportunity to speak for himself. “I have no intention of sullying his honour, or crossing his oath, or anything like that. For now.... I want to know how he feels. And that’s not easy, the man is as open as an underground prison in the deepest level of the hells.” Both men winced at the word. “Ah, my apologies, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine,” Wyll raised his own cup, pausing a moment with it held aloft, “there are some people worth being trapped in the hells with.”

Dammon’s cup met the Blade’s with a metallic clink, the two men drinking the water as if they were toasting a pact that Barcus was not privy to.

Wyll took a long swig and set his cup on the table once more. “Courtship is a dance. Once the music is playing, you offer your hand to your partner. If they take it, you learn to move to their rhythm just as they are learning to move with yours. But keep listening to that music, find the steps to the dance and keep time. Not too fast or too slow.” He stood, bowing and offering his hand to Dammon to demonstrate. “My good fellow, might I trouble you for a dance?”

The teifling’s impossible bright eyes sparkled as he followed the act. “No trouble at all, my lord, it would be my pleasure.”

Barcus sat almost in disbelief as they began to waltz around the forge to the distant sound of the bards playing in the square. But it was, in its own way, making more sense too.

“Be aware of his feet are so you do not step on his toes,” Wyll continued to talk as the two danced in perfect step, “and watch out for his tail, too.”

“Wouldn’t want to step on that, it can be a little…sensitive…” Dammon grew quieter towards the end of the sentence, a hint of a blush rising to the tips of his ears, his tail swishing subtly along with the music behind him.

“When the song changes, so does your dance. Listen for it.” Wyll’s lips twitched with the hint of a mischievous smile as he slid an arm around the tiefling’s lower back, holding and dipping him backwards as the music came to an end with the distant sounds of applause.

Barcus wasn’t quite sure if he should look away as the pair stood upright again, the smith smoothing down his apron before they returned to their seats. “That might be all well and good for a fine gentleman and his chosen dance partner, but I never learned how to waltz. I’ve always had a preference for the practical.”

“Then it’s simple.” Dammon declared, gesturing to the forge behind him. “Make something for him yourself, with your own hands. Craft something that holds meaning. You are more than welcome to use my tools, consider my Forge at your disposal in the name of budding romance.”

“Budding…” Wyll leaned back, casting his eye over the carefully kept flowerbeds that somehow survived the heat from being close to the forge. “Do you know much about flowers, Dammon?”

“I can’t say that I’m an expert, but I’ve always been fond of these.” He plucked a small bloom from a nearby pot, cone-like centre surrounded by reddish-violet petals that curled out and away. “They remind me of a heart, the flower itself opening fully to reveal it to you. The colours are reminiscent of the tones you can achieve in specially cooled steel, too.”

“Echinacea.” Wyll nodded, taking the flower gently from the smith’s hand. “My mother used to grow them outside her room. Father said they represent both strength and healing - fitting for the old Hellrider, don’t you think?” “They can also be made into a tea, although that’s not quite as pretty to look at.” Dammon took the plant back.

“So you’re saying to give him a flower?” Barcus was more perplexed than ever.

“Not quite.” The tiefling placed it carefully on the table, going back to the dagger that was being quenched when Barcus had arrived. “You can make him one that will last forever.”

The blade was laid on the table next to the blossom, the shine of the metal a very similar hue to the petals. “It’s beautiful.” Wyll leaned closer to admire the unfinished weapon, the thin sheen of colour clear in the light.

“When you work with steel, the temperature it is at when quenched affects the surface. A little careful timing, and you can get some wonderful colours.” Dammon smiled, refilling their mugs. “You’re far better at working with smaller parts than I am, but I have free time to help you get the perfect colours.”

“I am not certain I have enough spare gold to pay you for such a bespoke service.” Barcus fiddled idly with his coin pouch, he had been hoping to save a little for a future that seemed more worth saving for the longer the day had gone on.

“Pay me? Consider it a favour, for old friends and new.” The smith grinned for a moment. “I wouldn’t turn down a good word amongst your companions for where to get their equipment, of course, but it would be my pleasure to help you make a gift from the heart.”

—

And so Barcus found himself at the Forge a day later, the head of his favourite steel hammer in hand, laying it in the crucible ready to be melted down. The wooden handle stayed in his palm with a firm grip for a while, slipping back into his pocket when it was time to work the metal into the sand cast petal shapes they had made, the cone-like shape of the centre and the stem of the flower in a separate sand cast.

It took several hours of meticulous work, heating and reshaping the metal with delicate care, pulling and twisting it into shape, securing each petal to the blossom with breath held and hands as steady as they could be. The metal was heated and quenched precisely to give the final piece the perfect colour.

Dammon examined the piece one last time before handing it back to him. “You have a real way with the finer detail, Barcus, it’s as if we took a flower from the pot, enlarged it, then turned it to metal with some kind of magic.”

“Oh hells,” he sighed, “I could’ve just asked the bloody wizard to do that and saved us a lot of trouble.”

“Trouble? It has been a pleasure. It’s nice to make something that will warm a heart rather than pierce one for a change.” The tiefling laid a hand on his shoulder, a look of soft pride crossing his face. “Besides, it wouldn’t mean as much if you didn’t make it yourself.”

“That was the easy part.” Barcus sighed, realisation dawning. “I have to give it to him now, don’t I…”

“That you do, my friend. You’ll be fine, I’m certain of it.”

—

Several more days passed, and Barcus had spent them as wisely as he could. He made a few excuses to speak with Zevlor, trying to learn more about him, even taking the time to visit more of the Elturian refugees camped in Rivington without the Paladin there to overhear. He listened carefully, trying to find the “weaknesses” in his “armour” as the rogue had so indelicately put it, trying to channel a little of Karlach’s courage to speak more boldly.

At night he had even read some of the books that Gale had sent him, pleasantly surprised to find there were a few passages that gave him some ideas. The pears from Halsin remained fresh and perfectly ripe - he questioned if perhaps the druid had imbued them with a little magic to give him the extra time to make his plans properly. He had picked as nice a spot as he could find, at the top of the hill above the tiefling encampment in a semi-secluded area where they could still hear the sound of the bards playing below and the soft chatter of daily life.

Two simple glasses sat beside a bottle of rare vintage wine sent over from Tav, a selection of simple foods as it seemed the tiefling wasn’t given to indulging in too much extravagance. He held tightly to the hope that quiet conversation could slowly bring down a wall that had seemed insurmountable a mere tenday ago. Everything had been so carefully prepared, right down to the crimson and gold embroidered silk that wrapped delicately around the gift hidden in a side pocket of the picnic basket. It was unlikely to break, they had made sure of that, but despite the solid metal it felt as fragile as if he had held his own heart in his hands as he tied the blue ribbon around it. Perhaps it was an apt metaphor, giving a part of his past - the hammer that had been with him since he first learned to tinker with contraptions - to the hope of a better future and someone worth spending it with.

Barcus had been there a while, trying to make sure everything was just right, but his date arrived perfectly on time. His breath caught in his throat when Zevlor appeared at the summit of the hill, armour sparkling in the sunlight, eyes tired yet bright with a warm flame that was beginning to feel like the hearthfire of a home… It wasn’t perfect, nothing in the wretched city could be…nothing except the look on the old warrior’s face as Zevlor finally began to relax on the grass beside him.

------ ------ ENDING NOTES ------ ------

Well, Barcus fans, I really do hope I have given your favourite guy a very lovely really nice day for a change, he's more than earned it~ Thank you to those who suggested the pairing, it's rather sweet, really. I don't think I have space to do any more with this, so if anyone wants to collab and write a sequel/continuation please do be my guest and let me know!

#barcus wroot #zevlor #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 #fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 barcus #bg3 zevlor #fluff #romance #Spotify

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theold-ultraviolence · 2 years

Text

Turbo Lover

Eddie Munson x fem!reader // 18 + MINORS DNI

Summary: Flicking through the pages of Heavy Metal magazine on a Friday after school, Eddie suggests you try something based on an illustration of one of the fantasy stories on the issue, featuring a woman in an iron bikini and a strap-on. // CW: anal fingering, rimming, oral (m) receiving, pegging, super soft femdom (?), light dub/sub dynamics, clothed female naked male // words: 3.5K

A/N: besties, you don't know how long I've had this idea dancing around in my head and I was finally able to get it out of my system. Title comes from the song 'Turbo Lover' by Judas Priest!

“You’d look so hot with one of those, babe.” Eddie murmurs nonchalantly against your shoulder, totally unfazed about the way your eyes bulge out in surprise.

You snort and think he must be under some kind of spell because of the afternoon heat, but his smile is both impish and entirely genuine, and the way his big eyes twinkle is not just the product of the sunlight reflecting on his irises, as you’re sitting side by side, leaning against a tree trunk out on Lover’s Lake.

“No way…”

“Way!” He sits up, resting his head on your shoulder. It’s Friday and you’re unwinding after school under the perennial sunset, with a heap of snacks, an ice cold 6-pack and the latest edition of Heavy Metal magazine, which is one of Eddie’s favorite reads along with Fangoria. While both centered around music, the former featured fantasy and sci-fi erotica comics while the latter was all about horror movies.

Eddie’s referring to the girl sprawled along the two-page spread – the protagonist of this issue’s story. It’s a steampunk erotica about this cyborg assassin, clad in an iron bikini and thigh-high leather boots; only some bits of her arms were revealing her robotic flesh while the rest of his body was voluptuous and tanned.

But the focus of Eddie’s attention was the accessory nestled between her legs, secured by a strap with spikes all around it. The lighting composition of the illustration hid what protruded from it from easy view with the cast shadow, but there was no denying its phallic shape teasing the reader.

“...Is this something you’d like to try with me?” You bite your lip as you look at him, unsure but simmering with excitement.

“Hell yeah, I would! – only if you’re up for it, though.”

While Eddie’s preferences in bed always leaned on the rougher side, he never pressured you to anything you weren’t comfortable with, and you’d never found someone so open to discuss whatever kink you’d been wanting to try without feeling embarrassed or ashamed. It helped that you’d been friends for so long and that a relationship had been the natural progression of your bond. That way, everything you’d tried, no matter how intense, was always approached with innate tenderness.

“Where would we find a strap-on, though? Think Rick could get it for us?”

You’d tried several things with different props and toys that Eddie had gotten his hands on thanks to this Reefer Rick character who was also his drug supplier, whom you only knew by reputation while his appearance remained an enigma.

“Ohh yeah! it won’t be a problem. When hasn’t he ever delivered?”

Vibrators, dildos, plugs, different flavored lube – everything in your shared collection, Rick had gotten you, saving you the trouble of driving to Indianapolis to a real sex shop given Hawkins’s miserable lack of one.

“In fact, why don’t I go call him right now!? Let’s go, let’s go! we have a new mission on our hands, (Y/N)!” He’s up in a flash, grabbing you by the hand to pull you up to your feet to hop into his van in the search of the nearest payphone in the area.

Once you’d reached one, and you’d stood by Eddie as he chatted with Reefer Rick, your belly began to thrumm with the buzzing of a thousand bees inside when he’d turned to you with a manic grin on his face as he’d cheered, “it seems like we’re on for next week!”

You shrieked and draped your arms around his shoulders to placate your anticipation with a kiss that was all a clash of teeth with how widely you were both smiling.

And now that you have a time frame to look forward to, you figure you’d ask a friend of yours for your own favor, to really go all out in this new experience.

–

It’s a whole scene you’ve set.

You’d put on a sheer, lilac handkerchief on Eddie’s bedside lamp so that the room could be draped in that dim yet whimsical hue amidst darker shadows, as you make your entrance.

Eddie lies naked— save for his black boxers — with his long, tattooed limbs sprawled on the bed, sporting the dopiest of grins as he watches you come in swaying your hips in that unique piece of lingerie you’d specifically gotten for this night.

You’d begged your best friend – who was the head costume designer of the drama club – to make you this set. The look on her face when you handed her the reference from the Heavy Metal spread nearly made you spill your drink in her face, and when she asked what you wanted this for you lied about it being for a comic convention out of town. You’re not so sure if she bought it, but at least – regardless of her face going as red as a tomato – she agreed to be discreet and have it by the end of the week, under the condition that you’d get Eddie to give her a ride back home after school for the rest of the school year.

The design of your bra and panties was made to emulate the one from the comic as much as possible. Obviously it couldn’t be an actual iron bikini, but the fabric your friend had chosen was metallic and rigid, meant to push up your tits out like the fantasy chicks from Heavy Metal, with silver spiked studs lining the hem and the straps; you complimented it with a garter belt and fishnet tights along with the leather boots you’d gotten off of a costume shop.

“Woah, look at you, baby!” He whistles and giggles from pure glee upon seeing you. “You look like you’re right out of a Judas Priest video.”

You chuckle, totally breaking out of the seductive mode you were trying to get into. It’s always like that with Eddie. Even in the most intense throes of passion you’d always find yourselves smirking and laughing from all that love that spilled from of your hearts.

“Come here!” he playfully growls and makes grabby-hands at you as he sits up and scoots closer to the center of the bed, welcoming you on his spread thighs.

His hands are all over you the minute you climb atop him and wrap your arms around his neck; his rings clink against the studs on the trim of your bikini while his fingers slide so smoothly over the metallic fabric when he squeezes and fondles your tits, before trailing his hands down along your curves, grasping at the straps and tights, teasingly letting them slap against your skin.

All the while you’re kissing, humming into each other’s mouths.

You cradle the back of his head and the side of his neck on your palms to tilt his head back to really lick into his mouth and gain the upper hand, as it had been the deal from the beginning. This night was all about indulging Eddie, yet he always got a little carried away with his need to put your pleasure first.

So you grab a handful of his curls to keep his head arched back as your kisses migrate downwards, to the corner of his mouth, his slack jaw, but specially, one of your favorite parts of Eddie’s body: that gorgeous column of his neck, thick and long, with an adam’s apple that looks good enough to devour whole. You feel his low groans resonate against your lips as you lap and nibble the pale skin.

Meanwhile, he pressed you closer to him with one hand around your waist while the other cruised down to the valley of your stomach and underneath your panties, not willing to wait any unnecessary time to rub the line of your pussy lips and dip his fingertips inside your cunt, moaning happily at the wetness that’s already pooling there.

“Eddie…” you sigh against the dip between his collarbones, clawing at his shoulder blades for purchase as those long, guitarist fingers of his could play you so well, knowing that slow, circular motions combined with a thumb pressing on your clit sent instant electric discharges through you. “Eddie…”

“Yeah?” he smirks, all too pleased to have you unwinding on top of him, with the proof of it rock hard against your lower belly.

You regain your composure though, and pull harder on his head, detaching your lips from him so you could throw him off balance and take the chance to take his hand away from your pussy, push him to lie flat on the mattress and kiss him in order to prevent a complaint.

“Tonight isn’t about me, Eds…” you lightly peck his lips, retracing the downward path you’d marked before, “this is all about you, baby…” you whisper, lavishing his chest with your tongue, taking your sweet, sweet time to lightly graze each of his pink nipples with your teeth before harshly sucking on them.

His hoarse moans and the look of his head tilted back is an experience you’d like to bottle up and bathe in. Such a talkative boy rendered speechless by you, it made your nerves alight and every single hair on your body stand.

Your heart races with endearment from how he couldn’t keep his hands off of you – one of them gently resting at the back of your head while the other lightly soothed your shoulders and cheek as you massaged his sides.

You kiss your way down his stomach, tongue dipping into his belly button making him and contract with goosebumps, pulling your hair to beg for more.

Which you give, and give, and give, drooling on his navel, nuzzling those coarse, light brown hairs that grew thicker as they signal an enticing path to his cock, kissing them ever so fondly while caressing his hip bones.

“Baby…” his quiet moan dissolves into timid laughter because your touch is so sweet, yet your mouth so devious, spitting on his clothed cock and mouthing at that stiff weight nestled inside his boxers.

“Lube and glove,” you gently order, as you scoot back a little bit on your knees to pull down and take off his boxers – cock bobbing free and happily standing up just for you.

His lips are all puffy as he bites them, looking all doe eyed and blissed out as he hands them to you and follows your movements, sliding on a black latex glove on one of your hands while skirting a generous dollop of lube on it with the other.

You reach down and drool all over his cock before licking a wide stripe all along it to then pepper it with light kisses up and down the ridges of his shaft, to then gather your saliva on your mouth and swallow his tip while you grab the base with your lubed hand.

You stroke him up and down, tantalizingly slow as you hollow out your cheeks and suck on the head, press on the veins of his cock with your tongue, and suck your way down to meet your hand.

“Fuck, baby, just like that…” he pleads, with his pretty eyes shut under a furrowed brow and his mouth all slack – his grave moans, the perfect motivation to pick up the speed of your motions.

Lewd mewls pump out of you from how fucking good his cock stretches out your mouth, fills your throat, how he pulses on your flattened tongue and how his hands urge you to make you go faster, to have you gagging on him.

You let him go with an obscene pop and a string of saliva connecting you to the head so that your lubed hand could fondle his balls before sneaking under to find his hole. “Ohhh there he is…” you coo at him, smiling at Eddie’s utterly debauched state before you squeeze more lube into your index and middle finger, rubbing them together to warm the liquid up and begin teasing his entrance.

“Ohhh, that’s it, sweet boy, relax…”

“Fuck, (Y/N)...”

“Don’t you want this, Eddie?”

“Fuck yeah, I do…” he hiccups out a moan the more that tingling sensation builds on his core, “I do, baby…”

“Then let go, let me take care of you. I want to take care of you this time.”

You raise the bottle of lube and liberally drizzle the liquid down on him so that you could easily slip one finger inside, hooking it on the rimm ever so lightly, before easing it deeper in, inch by inch.

Time seems everlasting, with silence all around except for the wild beating of your heart that you swear Eddie could hear, from how he was undulating his hips to the rhythm of it with labored breath when you were able to slide two fingers into him now, gingerly spreading him, loosening him up for the main act.

Soon it’s easier, and the texture of the latex helps; Eddie plants his feet on the bed, spreads his thighs wide open to grant you more space to continue sucking on his cock while you insert a third finger into him.

“You’re doing so good for me, Eddie…so, so good…” you messily mumble against the velvety skin of his dick before swallowing him whole again, gargling on him when he greedily rutts against you.

“Yeah?” He chokes out a moan, gazes down at you with those big doe eyes swallowed up by his dilated pupils. No matter how ruined he may look, with his locks dripping sweat and his skin all dewey, he’s still present enough to lovingly smile at you.

“Of course, Eddie…you think you can handle more?”

“Uh-huh…”

You up the pace of your hand, going deeper, harder, while your sloppy mouth switches between drooling and sucking cock and then biting and nibbling on the soft flesh of his inner thighs.

You strike a nerve within him that has him nearly jumping from the bed so you have to calm him with a hand on his tummy while you keep fingering him.

He looked so ready to burst, but the night wasn’t over yet. Now that he’s all prepped up for you, you carefully remove your fingers, soothing his gaping hole by lapping up a broad stripe over it to his perineum, once and twice, and once again, moaning as you rim him so hungrily until he’s grabbing you by the hair.

“Come here, please”

You humm in response, slowly moving away by kissing his thighs, his hip bones, and that beautiful belly that rises and falls with his heaving breath.

When you climb up your way back to him he has zero hesitations on devouring your mouth, sloppily making out with you, grunting against your mouth as he tastes himself and helps you to properly straddle him.

“Ready?” you murmur against his spit-slick lips to which he nods. “Do the honors, then.”

You’re both smiling like a couple of idiots, when Eddie removes the latex glove and tosses it away, then brings out the strap-on from where it rested on the bedside table. Reefer Rick had come through, finding the craziest looking dildo in an iridescent color to stay close to the reference, as requested, with the strap also lined up with spikes.

You don’t dare ask how he finds these things, let alone on such a short notice.

“Wait wait wait wait a sec! We’re not having sex based on something we saw on Heavy Metal without some heavy metal playing in the background, babe! I know just the thing for this.”

He leaves the strap-on on the bed, gives you a quick peck on the lips before he’s rising from the bed and sprinting to his stereo.

“Eddie!” You watch him swipe through his box of cassettes before he snaps his fingers and laughs excitedly when he finds Judas Priest’s Turbo album and pops it on the stereo, with the opening track’s combined synth and guitars rising in crescendo, engulfing the atmosphere as Rob Halford’s eerie vocals guide you into the mood – ‘you won't hear me, but you'll feel me…’

“Okay, that’s perfect, though.” You snort upon seeing him all giddy with the proper soundtrack.

He hops back in the bed and you accommodate to straddle him once more; then he reverently fastens the strap-on around your waist, staring in awe at the thick dildo that protrudes from it. So in awe that he’s compelled to frame your face with his palms and give you a long, passionate kiss that only finishes because a big smile is pulling his lips up.

“Ready, Eds?”

“Fuck yes!” he grins, with one last quick kiss to the corner of your lips.

“Lie back down for me, Eddie.”

He does as told, and takes the initiative to squirt some more lube into his own palm to stroke at the dildo while you adjust on top of him, caging him in with your arms on each side of his head.

“Sssshit, baby…” he groans when the tip of the dildo briefs his hole, arching his neck back and flashing you a sight of the veins popping from that long marble pillar that you find so enticing.

“Shhh, relax for me, Eds. You’re doing so, so well for me, you can take this can’t you?”

He grunts in response, eyes wide shut and hands anchoring themselves on your hips, kneading at your skin, grabbing handfuls of your ass and grasping at the flimsy cords of the fishnet tights that adorn your thighs.

Steadily you enter him, breach him through the tight grip of his ass on the dildo and reaching deeper and deeper until you bottom out, pausing for a moment to allow him to settle into the sensation, showering him with loving kisses to his forehead, cheeks and the shell of his ear, whispering all throughout, “I love you so much, Eddie…”

“I love you too, baby… you can move now, sweetheart.”

He fully envelopes his arms around you, bringing you closer as you tentatively raise your hips and start building up a pace, moaning into his mouth as you feel the friction of your thrusts impacting your clit where it’s being grazed on and on and on each time you plunge into him.

“Ohhh god…” you squeal, not expecting how good this would feel for you. Let alone for Eddie, who’s brow furrows more prominently and it looks as though the plush skin of his lips will break with how hard he’s digging his teeth into them to constrain those guttural groans from bubbling out of him.

Normally when you’re on top of Eddie, his fingertips would lightly trail along your skin or massage your back before coming around again to fondle your tits but now – as your pace picks up, growing more and more brutal, he can only hold onto you, nails scraping long stripes down your vertebrae, sending sparks flying all over your nerves like the firework-like embers spurring from welded iron.

He’s normally so giggly and talkative but now he’s been reduced to this great pile mush, with that handsome face of his looking both pained and elated — you can’t help but dive in and lick into that slack mouth while you card a finger through that halo of sweaty, messy curls.

“Eddie, this feels so good…” you sigh, “so, so good, baby…”

Finally he grins and wheezes against your mouth, “imagine how I feel, baby…I – ohh fuck, I don’t think I can hang on for much longer, sweetheart…”

“Touch yourself for me, Eddie…”

A long groan leaves him as he spits on his palm before wrapping a firm grip around his cock and stroking himself to the rhythm of your pistoning hips – “SHIT! (Y/N)!”

“Eddie!” you mumble his name like a prayer against his dripping temple, tasting the salty musk of his skin and inhaling in the scent of Eddie’s hair – this mix of sensations being the very catapult that’s pulling you right back, stretching you back like an elastic band before releasing you out into the faraway void that’s spinning and spinning and spinning along to the chords of the guitar solo in the background.

“Fuck! Cum for me, Eddie, cum for me baby, please, cum for me…”

“Ohhh shit, FUCK!” he yells as thick ropes of cum paint his stomach, and you don’t slow down your pace until you’re sure you’ve milked him for everything he’s got, until there’s drops of cum landing on the zombie head he has tattooed on his right pectoral.

Your ears are ringing from the intensity of it all so you barely register that in the background, the song was already fading to an end…

‘...I'm your turbo lover

Tell me there's no other

I'm your turbo lover

Better run for cover…’

Your lips lazily join in a kiss that’s more shared breath than anything else, as you carefully slide the dildo out of him with a quiet hiss as you could feel the resistance of him clenching around the toy.

You sit back for a moment to remove the strap, before you’re draping yourself on top of him without any care at all for the sticky mess covers his torso, encasing him in your arms as your thumbs soothe the soft skin of his cheeks, his chin and nose until he opens those beautiful eyes again.

“Hey, there he is…”

He smiles all toothy and dopey at you doting on him – languid, flushed and quiet, chest painted with red splotches from how thoroughly you’d fucked him.

He looks too cute for his own good.

You’ve no choice but to kiss away the cuteness, lightly smooching his lips over and over again until you hear the melodious sound of his laughter which you greedily drink up.

“That was so amazing…thank you, babe. You’re a turbo lover, alright.”

“Oh my god, Eddie that’s so stupid!” you wheeze out before he growls and tickles your sides, wildly nuzzling the side of your neck to have you all helpless and lax to easily tackle you onto your back and lay his weight on top of you, grabbing your hands in his as he bows down for more kisses.

“Maybe so, but you loooove me still.”

“That I do.” You whisper, gazing at the dreamy sight he makes, with his skin glistening with sweat, his brunette curls all matted down against his temples, his eyelashes long as they frame those big, bright eyes of his – not to mention that hidden dimple that creeps up on his right cheek when he smiles as he does now.

“How about this,” you mumble between kisses, “we order takeout and check out the latest HM issue. Now I really wanna see you fucking me in an outfit like this.”

He boops your nose with the fingertip of his pinky before kissing your forehead.

“Sounds like one hell of a plan.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x yn #reader insert #female reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things #fanfiction #joseph quinn #my writing #eddie munson fanfiction

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whenthesnowfelloverwinterfell · 9 months

Text

Vatic - Chapter IX "Dragonbone"

Series Description :The youngest daughter of King Viserys and Queen Alicent grows up split between the two sides of her family. With dreams plaguing her sleep of people she does not know, and a war looming ahead of her. She will be forced to choose between the two sides of her family, between the love for her brother, and the loyalty for her sister.

Chapter Description : Y/n finds that life is different since Driftmark

Warnings : description of wounds

Pairing : eventual Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader ( cannon typical targcest idk what to tell you )

Word Count : 3k

Y/n had never enjoyed prayer. She did not understand why her mother did. The young princess did not enjoy sitting on her knees, the stone floor digging into her dress, and in turn, the beading and embroidery which pushed into her boney joints. She did not enjoy the scent of incense in a sept. She did not like how the lit candles would drip wax onto whatever surface they were sat upon, and she did not like when the wax got onto her hands or onto her dress.

It was why she had her eyes open as those around her in the royal sept prayed to the gods.

Maris was beside her, and her lady mother? She was on the opposite side of the sept, knelt in front of the statues of the mother and the father.

The past weeks, her mother had been distraught. Taken over by rage for her son, by guilt for attacking Rhaenyra. There was another element to it that y/n could not place. A depression that seemed to overtake Alicent.

y/n did not understand.

The words of last night’s dream rang around in her head as she observed her mother. The gods have no mercy. That’s why they’re gods.

The tone in which she heard it was flippant. That of a woman who found it to be truly self-evident of who the gods truly were. Merciless.

Helaena, as per usual, was in the corner, likely finding a bug to make friends with. Aegon was busy with the repercussions of drowning in his cups the night prior. The King was with the maesters, getting whatever sores and wounds on his body cleaned, though the youngest daughter of the King could not bring it in herself to care when she once had. Her Grandsire had made his appearance in the royal sept exceptionally brief before retreating back outside to go back into the keep.

Aemond refused to be seen.

Her brother had remained confined to the royal apartments, only being seen by family, the maesters, and the servants.

Her heart ached for him. She would never understand the anguish of losing an eye. How it would impact his life. She knew it would prove to be a challenge in his training with the sword. The maester had told Alicent that as Aemond healed and began to move about the castle more, he would need help. He would have issues with understanding how far away things truly were.

She wished for him to read to her again, but she did not know if he would have issues reading the words on the pages, and she feared to ask him. She did not want to make upset him, and it would seem that was the mood he was in more oft than not.

“At the very least pretend to pray, Princess.” Maris’ hushed whisper came, alerting y/n that she’d been caught.

“I have nothing to pray for Lady Maris.” y/n whispered back. “Go back to your own prayers.”

The royal sept was a small one. Located within the walls of the Red Keep. It’s doors lead out to a yard. It was meant primarily for the King and his family, but the ladies and lords of the court, and the servants, were not barred from it. Anyone who found themselves in need to have a monologue with their gods while at the seat of the Iron Throne were welcome to it.

That included little ladies who found no true point in religious gospel or the religious iconography of the seven which had recently found itself upon her mother. It was only a necklace with the seven pointed star, but y/n had noticed it nevertheless.

Her mother was Hightower, of Oldtown, where the faith had laid down its roots . Where the Hightowers and the faith had tangled themselves with one another. It was only reasonable that her mother would find solace with her gods. Their statued faces must have felt like a second family. But to y/n, they were strangers who looked down upon her, and would not give her the answers she once pleaded for them to give her when she was just a young girl of five.

y/n huffed and stood from the ground, rubbing her knees through the green dress before standing up straight to see Lady Harte and Lady Hollard looking at her ever so slightly. The same look on their faces as Alicent and Rhaenyra once shared with one another at court.

“I’m going to continue my studies, Lady Maris.” y/n told her friend, going to the large wooden doors that stood open for anyone to come and go as they pleased. Her footfalls echoed through the small sept until she reached the exit. She turned her head back to look at her friend and her mother.

Maris had peacefully resumed her prayers, looking up to the Maiden with her eyes closed, her lips moving as she voiced her wishes with the absence of her voice. And y/n’s mother. The Queen still knelt in front of the Mother and the Father. She was dressed, but only because it would be improper for her not to be. Around their royal apartments, her mother was frequently dishevled as of late. Her hair a mess, and either in her nightgown or in an old dress that she hadn’t bothered to have the maids properly tie around her body.

She hadn’t been the same since Driftmark. No one had been. And y/n had begun to feel as though she had no one.

Things would not return to normal she feared, and it plagued her thoughts as she left the sept, stepping in the sunshine. Aegon hardly found his way to the training yard as early in the mornings as the princes once had. The maesters wished to keep Aemond from any strenuous activities, Jacerys and Luke were gone. Along with Rhaenyra.

Perhaps she could have said a single prayer. For the late Ser Laenor. But what good would praying for a dead man do? His casket was already on the sea floor with the Lady Laena and their ancestors before them.

y/n longed for her sister, Rhaenyra. Yet everytime she found herself longing for the older woman, she’d be reminded of the inaction. The injustice her beloved brother faced, and she’d tell herself to ignore the thoughts of Rhaenyra.

But even though she told herself to ignore the thoughts of her sister, she played with the cardinal locket around her neck as she reached the royal apartments.

That’s where she found Aemond. Sitting on one of the loveseats, a book opened and face down against the stone floor a good four paces away from him. He was sitting with his arms crossed and head against the back of the seat. His nose was red, and his brows furrowed, stretching the stitches that had taken the place of his left eye.

“Brother, whatever is the matter?”

If she were anyone else, their mother, or Aegon, their father or grandsire, he would have brushed her off, told her that he was perfectly well. But they had a bond with one another that neither had with a single other person. He’d never lied to her, and she had never lied to him. He had rightfully been in a terrible mood since they’d returned to King’s Landing, brushing everyone else off and stewing in his hatred, but they were alone. It was the first time they’d had a moment alone with one another since before he had lost his eye. And it seemed being only around her did he seem to calm himself.

“It hurts.” Was his final reply as he looked at her.

The sight did not bother her like it had the maids and servants who came into the apartments. They were all bothered by the red swollen flesh. But his loss of an eye did not change him to her.

“Do you wish for me to ask the maester for milk of the poppy?” She offered picking the book up from the ground and reading the title pressed into the leather cover. “Garth Greenhand and The Houses He Sired”

“No,” He said quickly, turning to look up at the ceiling, hardly even a second after y/n had offered it. “It hurts to do anything. I keep knocking into things whenever I walk, I cannot train, Mother will not allow me to go to the dragon pit, I cannot even read without it hurting.”

“You wished to read?”

“I wished to not think of my eye.” He responded.

The idea came to her as he said that, still holding the heavy leather bound book in her small hands. “I may read to you, brother. As you’ve read to me. If you wish?”

At the offer, Aemond looked at her, his lilac eyes carefully trained on her as she stood in front of him. She looked directly back at him before she moved to the seat across from him, the table separating them as she took a seat. Placing the large book in her lap, she opened it, trying to find the bookmark he often used. A pressed and dried leaf he had once found in an old book in the royal library, likely left over from another prince or princess from a previous generation that had forgotten their bookmark behind.

She didn’t wait for Aemond’s response as she finally found where his bookmark was, she was met with the black and white ink image of the Lannister lion at the top center of the page, taking up a considerable amount of space.

“Although it is not completely known who the mother of Lann the Clever was, Maesters of the citadel in Oldtown agree that he was likely the bastard born son of either Rowan Gold-Tree or Florys the Fox, both are the daughters of Garth Greenhand. Both founders of House Rowan and House Florent respectively.” She began to read, looking up from the page to see Aemond staring at her. “Maesters in other places of Westeros dispute on who Lann the Clever was, or if he truly existed, but within the Reach it is widley believed that Garth Greenhand is the grandsire of Lann the Clever and of House Lannister. The Lannisters are an old and proud family. Known to have golden hair and green eyes, and are known to wear red to represent their house.”

The sound of movement caught y/n’s attention. As she looked up, she saw Aemond standing and walking towards her. “You can keep reading.” He told her as he finally reached her, sitting down on the ground to her left, and resting the uninjured side of his face against her knee,

“Lannisters are known to be ambitious, politically savvy, clever, charismatic, and it is well known that both the men and women sired from this house tend to look regal in appearance, and the young maids of House Lannister are often sought after by aspiring young lords or first born sons. From houses that wish to be aligned with the golden lion sigil, or low houses that wish for the hefty dowry that many of the Lannister women carry with them into their marriages.”

That’s how the two of them sat. For hours as she read to him. From House Lannister to Tyrell and even the now extinct House Gardener. But they had finished the book by the time nightfall had come, and before dinner. Aemond had sense wrapped an arm around her leg, his finger playing with the small buckle of her shoe, or picking at the fabric of her stockings.

They had been sitting in silence for a few moments now. But Aemond came to break the silence. “Your name day is tomorrow.” It wasn’t as though he’d just realized, y/n knew that. He was reminding her. The only people who ever made a big deal of her name day were him, their mother and Rhaenyra. Their mother had been drowning in her guilt over hurting Rhaenyra at Driftmark so much so that she only truly checked in with Aemond or the Maester to assure that Aemond was alright, and Rhaenyra was off at Dragonstone, with her new husband. Her uncle, Daemon.

“I know, brother.” It was easy to forget her name day. She never asked for anything big or important. She never truly saw the point. She was the youngest daughter, and a liability to her father. She knew this. Just a daughter her father would one day have to pay a dowry for. However, y/n did not know why they would not save the crown and their coins by marrying her off to either Aemond or Daeron, but she never questioned her mother about it. She already knew the turmoil her mother had been going through when she betrothed Aegon and Helaena to one another. Yes, the Targaryens were exempt from the faith’s rule against incest, but it did not ease their mother’s heavy heart.

“Did you wish for anything?” He inquired, moving his head for his chin to be resting atop her knee.

“Only for your health in truth, brother. I heard the maesters speaking one night with mother right after we got back from Driftmark. They warned her that infections could just as easily take a life or steal away one’s health as easily as injuries. I wished for you to be healthy.”

Aegon was at the dining table, which was most unlike him this early in the morning. Helaena had quietly whispered y/n a happy name day when they walked into the room together, as had Aemond. Aegon had only given her a nod. Their grandsire was in the tower of the hand, and both Viserys and Alicent were sitting at the dining table when she’d arrived.

“She did not wish for any festivities, My Love.” Alicent told Viserys, though there was no affection in the way she spoke to him when he had asked what they would be doing. y/n was quietly eating her breakfast, occasionally looking up at her family either between bites or while chewing. She made her observations quietly, like she often did during meals with her family.

Viserys is growing weaker, she thought to herself.

Aegon looks just like our mother.

Helaena is more beautiful than Aegon or the court believe her to be.

Aemond’s anger is growing.

Mother still feels guilt for harming Rhaenyra.

“A gift for the Princess y/n’s tenth name day, from the Princess Rhaenyra.” A steward announced as he entered the room. He quickly stepped aside however, as two men carried in a large wooden box. Theobrand was following them not far behind, a grin on his face as he did.

“Oh, how kind,” Viserys spoke up, looking up from his food to the two men. y/n remained seated at the table, watching as they came to a stop by the table, looking at her expectantly. “Well, go on, y/n. We do not need to wait till later to open all the gifts.” Viserys urged her, gesturing his frail hand to the two men and the box.

Hesitantly, y/n slid out of her chair and rounded the table to reach the two men, cautiously undoing the latches of the box. She looked to Theobrand with an apprehensive gaze before pushing up the lid to open it, and the two men holding it open for her to gaze in at the gift.

The gasp that came from her was unexpected. She didn’t mean for it to slip out, but the gift was beautiful.

Pulling it from the box, y/n turned to show her family.

It was a bow, taller than y/n was, and carved from dragon bone. It was ornately carved with great care, the princess could tell. It was heavy, requiring all of y/n’s strength to hold it up. It was as black as the night sky, and had been polished in such a way that it reflected the light as a gemstone would.

She watched as a worried look cast over her mother’s face, an unimpressed one upon Aegon’s, an happy one from Helaena, an uncertain one from Aemond, and an excited look from Viserys.

“A fine gift!” The King declared. “Theobrand will show you how to master it!”

“It is still a bit large for the little princess, Your Grace. But Princess Rhaenyra and I both thought it best for her to have a bow she would grow into. But I shall teach the Princess how to be a masterful archer, and to wield it just as well as the Princes will be able to wield a sword.” Theobrand had approached and placed a steady and firm hand on y/n’s shoulder.

“Husband,” Alicent began, turning her attention to Viserys. “Do you truly believe a weapon to be an appropriate gift for a ten year old?”

Viserys tilted his head in amusement at Alicent’s question. “I do remember my tenth name day very well. My Uncle Aemon had given me a dagger that was longer than my own forearm. . . I think this to be a fine and thoughtful gift from Rhaenyra.” Viserys reasoned. “Any of us should be so lucky to have such goals as y/n. To master a skill that is not even expected of her.”

“You encourage this?” Alicent questioned.

“Yes. . . I do. y/n, do you wish to master archery?” Viserys asked.

With the line of questioning now on y/n, she suddenly felt very uncomfortable. But she gave a quick nod.

“There, see? The girl wishes to learn archery, Alicent. I can hardly blame her. Sitting around playing instruments, praying, and embroidering all day would be dreadfully boring for a young girl.”

y/n saw how Alicent grew incredibly stiff at his comment. y/n stayed still for a moment, watching her mother as she stood up from the table. “I believe I am full.” She told everyone, turning to leave, but before she passed y/n, she stopped. Alicent grabbed y/n gently by either side of her jaw and laid a gentle kiss to the crown of y/n’s head before she finally continued to leave the room.

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A/N : this has been written for like two weeks now, I'm only getting the motivation to edit two of the chapters and post them because I am riddled with anxiety over the Taylor Swift presale codes coming out later today.

#game of thrones fic #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon fic #aemond x you #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x you

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