#also posted on ao3

[cod-dump]

At the soapghost wedding-

Rudy: Pull yourself together Ale

Alejandro, a sobbing, snotty mess because he’s an absolute SAP: I-I’m Try-Trying

What You Deserve

AleRudy, SoapGhost

(Disclaimer: I don't speak Spanish so I used an online translator. I am sorry if it doesn't come out legible or accidentally summons demons when read out loud)

___

Alejandro hadn’t expected Ghost and Soap to visit the Los Vaqueros base. The pair were glowing when Alejandro and Rudy greeted them. He could feel their joy and excitement.

“My friends! What has you smiling so broadly?”

Ghost, who had an arm on Soap’s shoulders, squeezes them and immediately Soap held up his hand. There, a simple silver band with a gold stripe rested on his ring finger. Alejandro gasped and Rudy grinned. They were getting married. They grabbed they men and smooshed them in a hug, Soap laughing loudly.

It took them a moment to release them, both jittery with excitement and joy, now matching the energy of their friends.

“We didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”

“I would’ve killed you if you did!”

They ushered the two off to grab drinks. They had already told Laswell, seeing that they were in the US first to tell her. Then they flew here to tell Alejandro and Rudy.

“You have to stay for dinner!”

Soap looks at Ghost and grins, “Told you they were going to ask.”

Ghost rolls his eyes fondly, “Laswell stuffed us with pie when we saw her.”

“Then we’re going to have to stuff you with birria tacos.”

Soap slaps Ghost chest to prevent him from saying anything, “Oh, we’re staying!”

They ended up going back to their house, Soap deciding to help Rudy in the kitchen while Alejandro and Ghost were banished to the living room. Ghost was bouncing his knee as Alejandro grabbed them beers.

“I can’t believe you’re finally getting married!”

“After carrying the damn ring in my pocket for a year, yea.”

Alejandro laughs, “A year?”

“The most gruesome year of my life.”

Ghost and Alejandro open their beers, Ghost taking a swig. Alejandro could tell he was wanting to say something. The bouncing knee and now him fidgeting with the beer bottle.

“Something on your mind?”

“Yea, I was wanting to ask you something…”

Alejandro tilts his head and Ghost breathes out before looking to him, “Would you be my best man?”

Alejandro, of course, was in mid drink of his beer when he processed the question. He immediately choked on the drink, almost spilling the rest of his beer while trying to blindly put it on the coffee table. Ghost panicked and pat his back to help clear his lungs. After a moment of coughing, Alejandro breathed in.

“You… want me to be your best man?”

“Yes?”

“Me- Simon, I love you. I am honored that you have asked me but- what about John? Kyle? Kate?”

Ghost laughs, “John is more like my father and Kate is unofficially my mother if you haven’t noticed. Not exactly best man material. And Kyle is Johnny’s best man. You should’ve seen the river he cried when Johnny asked him.”

Alejandro stared before he grins. He grabs Ghost and pulls him into a hug. Ghost immediately hugs him back, laughing.

“Is that a yes?”

“You bet your ass it is!”

After a minute Soap yelled from the kitchen, “I’m assuming the coughing and yelling is because Ale is now your best man and not that you killed him!”

Rudy screams, “ALE IS GOING TO BE HIS BEST MAN?!”

After dinner and much talking, Ghost and Soap left even though Alejandro and Rudy insisted they stayed the night. Alejandro was riddled with anticipation, unable to sleep that night. Soon Alejandro was helping get ready for the wedding. He of course made time with Rudy, planning their outfits and shopping for wedding gifts. It was truly one of the happiest they had felt. They had been to weddings before but this one was different. Two of their closest friends were getting married. Two of the bravest men they had the pleasure of knowing.

Two men, like them, never knew if they would ever be able to have this.

Alejandro and Rudy didn’t have an actual ceremony when they had gotten married. They took the quickest route to tie the knot because, at the time, they weren’t sure if they would ever get another chance. Though Rudy has told Alejandro time and time again that not having an actual ceremony didn’t bother him and he was happy, Alejandro felt as though he deprived his husband the wedding he deserved.

The wedding was taking place in Scotland, at a church that was near a cliff overlooking the ocean. This was where Soap’s parents had gotten married. And now it was where Soap would be marrying the love of his life. Alejandro was up one night talking to Ghost about it, he could hear the smile on his face even over the phone. Alejandro was outside, enjoying the cool breeze as they talked. He was watching Rudy through the window as Ghost expressed his excitement and joy.

“Every little detail matters. I’m going to make it the most wonderful and memorable day of Johnny’s life.”

Even though Rudy was smiling as he read his book, Alejandro felt himself frown.

“All of us are going to make sure you both have a wonderful and beautiful day, Simon. It’s what you both deserve.”

Alejandro had the pleasure of helping wrangle everything together along with the rest of the wedding party. Gaz was trying to act like he wasn’t holding back tears as they planned his best friends’ day. Alejandro had found Gaz sobbing behind some flower arrangements.

“Kyle?”

Gaz didn’t bother to look at him, “They’re killing me!”

Alejandro saw that Gaz was looking at his phone, seeing a paragraph of text from Soap.

“Johnny just sent me a rough draft of his vows. It’s so sickening! I might throw up with how sweet it is!”

Alejandro smiles and pats Gaz’s back, “Save the tears.”

“If I do that I might flood the church!”

Price wasn’t much better. He, Laswell, and Alejandro went with Ghost to look at tuxedos. When Ghost tried on the third tux, Alejandro could see Price struggling to keep it together. Laswell had to step away to give herself a moment before she came back. She was also taking a million pictures, Ghost groaning when she kept having him turn around.

“I don’t even know if I want this one.”

“I don’t care! I’m savoring every moment of this!”

Ghost didn’t pick a tux that day but no one was in a rush. That night, Gaz called and talked about Soap and how his father and mother were pestering him about growing his hair out for the wedding. Alejandro laughed, he couldn’t imagine Soap with a full head of hair.

“It’s getting closer…”

Rudy nodded, falling asleep on Alejandro’s chest. Alejandro thumbed his wedding ring, wondering what kind of wedding Rudy and him would’ve had. Something traditional? A small gathering of their closest friends and relatives? Rudy hasn’t been in contact with his parents and family for years. Would they come? If not, who would walk Rudy down the isle?

“Estás pensando demasiado alto, amor.” (You’re thinking too loud, love.)

“Lo siento, flor” (I’m sorry, blossom.)

Rudy mumbles, burying his face against Alejandro’s chest. Alejandro sighs, closing his eyes and attempting to drift off to sleep. For the next couple of months, up until the wedding, Alejandro continued to think. As everything built up, to the decorations, seating arrangements, guest list, food— All Alejandro could think about is what Rudy and him would’ve chosen. He tried to not let his busy mind get in the way of helping make his friends’ most amazing and impactful day of their lives become reality.

The dancing classes Alejandro attended with Gaz, Ghost, and Soap was fun. Soap insisted that Alejandro and Gaz were going to dance together at the wedding, and Alejandro laughed as Gaz stared at him in judgment.

“I don’t dance.”

“You will!”

Gaz groaned loudly before turning to Alejandro. Alejandro had to laugh at the face he was making as they followed the dance teacher’s instructions.

“At least you haven’t stepped on my feet yet.”

Immediately after those words left Alejandro’s mouth, Gaz purposely stepped on his foot.

“Oh, my bad.”

Alejandro went to say something when he noticed Ghost and Soap as they practiced. He saw how carefully they moved, Soap grinning like a madman. Ghost was looking at him like he was the only person in the whole world. Alejandro stumbled over his own feet and made Gaz lose balance, causing him to fall against Alejandro. They didn’t fall to the floor, thankfully, but they still were in a awkward position.

“You clumsy ass!”

The old lady who was instructing them gasped at Gaz’s words while Soap laughed. Alejandro helped Gaz stand while grinning. Once Gaz was standing on his own, he smacked Alejandro’s shoulder and backed away.

“I don’t know how Rudy deals with you!”

“I am very charismatic.”

Gaz glares at Alejandro while the instructor announces that it was break time. Soap and Ghost walked over with matching grins.

“Do we need to separate you two?”

Alejandro shrugs, “I don’t know what’s Kyle’s issue. I thought we were doing fine.”

It isn’t a secret on how some friends can’t work with each other due to how they distract one another. Gaz and Alejandro so happened to be that type of friends. Well, sometimes they were like that. But they knew that this wedding was important and they weren’t going to be the ones that disrupt it.

“I swear if it rains-“

“Tents exist, Simon.”

Soap and Ghost were set on everything happening outside. The actual ceremony would happen inside the church but everything else would be outside. Alejandro and Gaz had been running around to make everything was perfect. From looking at pole tents, DJs, what drinks and food to serve, getting all allergies down— It was a lot of work but they were happy to do it.

With the wedding right around the bend and finishing touches being made, Ghost became increasingly anxious. He was pacing as he and Alejandro went over last minute details to make sure everything was perfect.

"What if he changes his mind about marrying me?"

Alejandro rolls his eyes, "Mi hermano, in what world or timeline would Johnny not want you?"

Ghost sighs, "Just... he could do so much better than me."

"Simon, you are a damn good man. I can't imagine a single person who is better than you."

Ghost huffs but Alejandro could see a hint of a smile in his eyes. Alejandro helped Ghost arrange a gift to be sent to Soap the night before the wedding. A simple bottle of whisky and chocolates with a note. Ghost worried he should have something more extravagant delivered but Alejandro assured him Soap would love anything he sent him. From a bottle of wine from the corner store or a bottle of whisky straight from the distillery.

Alejandro had to help Ghost calm down enough to sleep. Though he, too, had a hard time settling down. Tomorrow was the big day.

"No sneaking out the window," Alejandro joked as Ghost sat on his hotel room's bed.

They decided Soap would stay at his parents' house while Ghost stayed in a hotel. Alejandro and Rudy were staying in the room right next door and Laswell was in her own room with her wife down the hall, Price in the room across from hers. If Ghost did try to run (which he wouldn't in a million years), someone was bound to catch him in the act.

Alejandro groans and falls into the bed next to Rudy. He feels his husband rub his back which made Alejandro groan again.

"Can't wait for the wedding to be over with?"

"I love Simon and Johnny but god I had no idea planning a wedding would be this exhausting."

Rudy hums and Alejandro felt his heart twist. He would've been just like Ghost if he was planning his wedding with Rudy. Every detail would matter. Location, guests, decorations, the food-- Everything. Alejandro sits up in the bed, kneeling in front of Rudy.

"Mi amor? Something wrong?"

Alejandro reaches over and takes Rudy's hand, thumbing over his wedding band.

"Remember when we were kids and you talked about your dream wedding?"

Rudy sighs, "Ale-"

"Rudy, please..."

"Yes, but that was years ago. What child doesn't dream about their wedding?"

Alejandro scoots closer, "I should've given you that wedding. Some way or how-"

"Alejandro, I don't need a wedding. I am married to you, not having a ceremony does not change that."

Rudy moves and crawls closer to Alejandro, cupping his face.

"I am happy, my love. I have you and that is what matters."

Even with Rudy kissing him to seal that fact, Alejandro still felt doubt. When they were children, while Alejandro was sword fighting the neighborhood kids with sticks, Rudy was creating stories. One story was his wedding. Back then, Rudy and Valeria would 'kidnap' Alejandro and have a dramatic mock wedding. If Alejandro knew those silly games would be the closest thing he had to having a ceremony with Rudy, he would've done things differently.

When morning came, Alejandro put on a face for the wedding. He felt anxious so he knew that Ghost was going to be far worse.

"Today's the day," Alejandro muttered as he went to make sure Ghost was ready to get this over with.

Rudy parted from the hotel after giving Alejandro an encouraging kiss. Hearing Laswell finally let out a sob when reality hit her brought Alejandro's attention back to Ghost. They dressed Ghost, made sure everything looked in order, then headed out for the church. Alejandro could feel the tension coming off of Ghost in waves, the man fidgeting with the cuffs of his suit.

"Everything is going to go perfectly, mi hermano."

Ghost breathed out, head resting against the back of the seat, "I hope so... I never thought this day would come for me..."

Alejandro pats Ghost's knee, "Course it would come. Just had to wait for Johnny."

Ghost cracks a contagious smile that Alejandro couldn't help but return.

Everything from that point on, thankfully, went without issues. The guests were behaved (Alejandro was concerned about Soap's family but he wouldn't dare say that out loud), everything was in place, the priest was ready to go-- Everything was perfect! Gaz had given Alejandro an earpiece so they could communicate and Alejandro couldn't help but laugh.

"This isn't a mission, Kyle."

"Uh, yes it is. A life mission."

Alejandro laughed as Gaz continued out, both of them making sure no issues even had a chance to take root. Finally, it was time. Everyone took their places, and soon the ceremony started. The priest took his place at the alter, then Ghost took his place with Alejandro following suit. Alejandro could see Rudy in the crowd, near tears. Alejandro could see Ghost fidgeting again as the rest of the wedding party took their places and, finally, Soap walked down the isle with his father.

Alejandro could see the awestruck look on Ghost's face, the love and adoration as Soap made his way down the isle, kilt and all. The look never went away, even with Soap standing in front of him. Alejandro found himself imagining him and Rudy in their position, in front of an alter, family and friends around them, laying witness to their union. He was unaware of how much time passed, of what was said. Alejandro was lost, imagining a beautiful ceremony, catered to Rudy and all that he ever dreamt of.

Then the priest started to give a speech about marriage and he snapped out of it. Ghost and Soap seemed almost lost staring at each other, the love so strong that Alejandro could get sick by it. Finally, it was time to exchange vows,

"Simon and John, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?"

"Yes."

"Will you honor each other as husbands for the rest of your lives?"

"Yes."

Alejandro could hear a shake in Ghost's voice as he spoke, holding Soap's hands in such a delicate manner. As if he was afraid this would all go away if he squeezed too hard.

"I, Simon, take you, John, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life."

Alejandro could see Price sobbing, tears streaming down his face. Laswell was rubbing his shoulder, tears also in her eyes.

"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, take and wear this ring as a sign of my love and faithfulness."

Ghost managed to slip the ring onto Soap's finger without dropping it. The man was barely containing his shaky hands. Alejandro swallows hard, thinking about the ring he had gotten Rudy. It wasn't anything special. Wasn't expensive or worth showing off. It was just a plain wedding band, something to show that Rudy was taken. Nothing more.

There was more preaching and prayer until, finally-

The kiss shared between Ghost and Soap was the most passionate one Alejandro had ever seen them share. Tears in their eyes, Soap cupping Ghost's face as they smooshed their faces together. Alejandro swears he could hear Price losing it but he didn't look to confirm it. After the priest's final blessing, the wedding party begun to leave. Soap's nieces who served as flower girls skipping down the isle, throwing their petals with glee.

Alejandro joined with Rudy as soon as he could, choked up by it all. He swept his husband into his arms, not giving the man a chance to say anything. He captured his husband's lips into a kiss before pulling away, holding his face.

"Let's get married."

"What? Ale-"

"I want a do over. A ceremony."

Rudy places a hand over Alejandro's that held his face, "Ale, I don't need a ceremony."

"But you deserve one. And I swear I will give you one."

Rudy chokes up, leaning in to kiss Alejandro. They part smiling, tears wetting their cheeks. They made their way back to the rest of the party, Ghost and Soap pressed against each other, staring at each other like there was no one else there. Alejandro kept a firm hand on Rudy's, smiling.

He'll make sure his husband gets this. It's what he deserves.

___

#I DON'T SPEAK SPANISH!! I USED GOOGLE TRANSLATE I'M SORRY #also posted on ao3 #call of duty #cod mwii #modern warfare ii #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #john price #kate laswell #soapghost #ghostsoap #alerudy #ask #thanks for the ask <3 #fic #fanfic #what you deserve

[i-am-church-the-cat]

fresh kill

wc: 1745 summary: "This is your mouse, congratulations." | Or how the boys first meet in my patron deity au

also read on ao3

People at the karting track were leaving quite a berth between them and the two Sargeant brothers. Dalton, almost 17 and more than used to his kind of behavior, doesn’t think anything of it. He came out to Europe to see his brother not people with gods too scared to talk with them. Dalton could tell it was bothering Logan, though. Logan, who was all alone in a foreign continent, who felt distinctly apart from everyone else, and not just because he has a predator god as a patron. 

Most of the other kids are avoiding Logan like the plague. The longer it goes on, the more his brother looks like a kicked puppy. His brother’s a bother at the best of times, but Dalton is still fiercely protective over him. He wants to march around to all the adults and yell at them for ignoring a kid. A kid. Logan’s barely 13!

Before Logan can burst into tears and Dalton can start ripping people to shreds, a boy roughly the same age and size as Logan pops out of nowhere. He still looks wary at approaching the son of a hunter god, but he’s clearly brave enough that it isn’t holding him back. 

“I’m Oscar,” the boy says. There’s something weirdly syrupy in his tone and it takes Dalton a second to place it. Fucking children of sleep, they’re the worst on a race track. They’re a straight up danger if they don’t know how to regulate their energy. Though, if no one’s gonna make a fuss, Dalton isn’t. This is the only kid who’s talked to them all day and Logan’s spirits are finally starting to lift. 

“I’m Logan,” he says, bright and chipper, squeaky and cracking around the edges. “Are you racing today.”

“Yeah,” Oscar says, slowly once again. Dalton’s pretty sure it’s less his personality and more because Logan just asked a ridiculously obvious question. He’s in a race suit and has a yellow, blue, orange helmet under his arm. “You qualified tenth for this race, right?”

Dalton’s honestly surprised Oscar noticed. How long has the kid been building up the courage to come talk to them? Logan’s head flops around on his neck in a facsimile of a nod. 

“Yeah, yeah. You qualified higher, though.”

“Sixth, yeah,” Oscar agrees with a short nod. The difference in demeanor between the two boys is slightly jarring. It’s like being light-headed from elevation at the same time as being buried beneath the earth to sleep. For someone on the outside, like Dalton, it was giving him a headache. Logan and Oscar seemed to not notice at all, attracting more like magnets. 

“I’ll just have to catch up with you, then,” Logan says. He tilts his head and Dalton can recognize the look of interest catching in Logan’s head. Not just for a new friend but for a new target. He sighs internally and hopes this guy doesn’t go running for the hills.

Oscar doesn’t seem to notice Logan’s newfound fascination. He just shrugs. 

“You can try, but I’ll probably be in first before you get to seventh.”

Both Sargeant boys blink, taken aback. Before Logan can respond, a woman who looks a lot like Oscar is calling his name and waving him over. The drowsy boy looks over his shoulder at her before turning back to Logan. 

“See ya, then.”

It’s only when Oscar is walking away that Dalton realize the kid never once addressed him. Kind of rude. Before he can bring up the topic of getting something to eat to his brother, Logan is turning to him with wide eyes. 

Blue-green eyes. Shit. 

“I like him,” Logan tells him, reedy voice going sharp. His brother is bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, like he’s about to take off. “I wanna beat him.”

Dalton sighs for real this time. 

--

Logan chases the blue, yellow, orange helmet all the way up to second place. Dalton figures he would have caught the kid if they’d had another couple of turns. But as fast as Logan was when he was hunting, Oscar was somehow just that bit faster. Dalton wondered if the kid had any idea what he was doing. 

From the dazed expression Oscar had when he got out of the kart, he would say no. 

Speaking of dazed expressions, Logan’s eyes don’t leave Oscar’s once during the podium ceremony. He barely manages to get a word out to the announcer. The boy on the step above him doesn’t once glance his way. 

Dalton can see Logan getting more antsy the longer Oscar ignores him. He wonders if he’s seriously going to have to drag his brother back to their car to keep him from jumping this poor kid. But Logan steps off of the podium without argument, making his way to Dalton’s side without once looking at him. He’s holding his second-place trophy in a loose fist as he watches Oscar head back to his family. 

“Quite a race, dude, you almost had him,” Dalton says, forgoing his usual noogie for the mild apprehension that Logan might bite him. “Want me to take that for you?”

Logan finally tears his eyes away from the son of sleep and looks down at his trophy as if seeing it for the first time. He looks at it for a while, then between it and Oscar, then to Dalton. He gets a sinking feeling in his gut before Logan even opens his mouth. 

“I need to give this to him.”

Before Dalton can explain that that would be crazy and that his hormones are all out of wack right now, Logan is taking off at a brisk walk towards Oscar. The older Sargeant curses and takes off after him. With his brother’s luck, Logan’s gonna end up flat on his ass and banned from any more karting events for being fucking weird. 

Logan pulls up short right in front of Oscar. Oscar doesn’t seem to mind the intrusion of his personal space, just raises one bored eyebrow up at Logan’s appearance. 

“Hey, mate, what’s up?”

Logan opens his mouth. Closes it. Does this a few more times before shoving his trophy forward into Oscar’s chest.

“Here.”

Oscar looks down at the trophy that was unceremoniously shoved into his arms and then back up at Logan. There’s only confusion in his expression before a spark of annoyance appears. 

“I don’t want your second-place trophy, mate. If you didn’t notice, I won. I came in first, not you.”

Oscar tries to shove the trophy back into Logan’s arms but the blond makes a sound not unlike a squawking bird and just tries to give it back. They end up in this weird tug-of-war situation, except instead of tugging, they’re both trying really really hard to push it away. 

“No, it’s yours.”

“I didn’t come in second, it’s yours.”

“But I’m giving it to you.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Dalton finally decides to step in for the lack of any other semi-adult figure. He pulls his dejected-looking brother away from Oscar, who’s still fuming at the assumed insult. Logan looks from the trophy in his hands and then up at Dalton. He looks fucking pitiful, the goof. He sighs and decides to at least try and help his little brother. 

“Look, Oscar,” he starts, baring the thoroughly unimpressed look the other 13-year-old gives him. “You know how a cat sometimes bring mice to their owners?”

“I’m not a cat!” Logan sputters indignantly at the same time Oscar says, “Yeah?”

Dalton snags the trophy from Logan’s hands and holds it out to the Australian. “This is your mouse, congratulations.”

Logan looks like he wants to argue the point but Oscar is looking at the two brothers with much more consideration then before. Just when Dalton is sure his brother’s gonna get rejected again, he gently takes the trophy.

“Okay,” Oscar says, tucking the slightly smaller trophy against his side next to the big trophy. “As long as you’re not taking mine.”

Logan’s head flies from side-to-side like a hummingbird wing. Fucking goof.

“Alright, then,” Oscar finally seems to relax. He offers Logan a tentative smile and Dalton can feel his brother practically droop against his side. Oh, thank god, somehow this kid’s mojo got Logan’s hyperfocus to take a fucking break. That would have taken Dalton forever.

“I have to go now. See you tomorrow.”

“See ya,” Logan says, but Oscar is already gone. For a kid so lethargic, he sure does move fast. The Sargeant boys watch him walk away, one with little hearts flying around his head and one utterly done with this shit.

“Well,” Dalton looks down at his little brother. “I’m never letting you off your leash again.”

Logan turns right around and bites him. The fucking brat.  

--

New day, new race, same track and same opponents. Dalton is sitting on a fold-out chair watching Logan’s mechanic walk him through different parts of his kart. His little brother is nodding along, entirely focused on the car, until the smell of rain at nighttime come through. Then he’s a fucking lost cause.

Oscar is standing at the entrance to their tent, looking at Logan almost as intensely as the blond is looking to him. His little brother bounds over without a second thought in his empty little head.

“Hey! What’s up?” Logan sounds so excited. Dalton’s honestly embarrassed for him.

“I had a dream about you,” Oscar says without preamble. Dalton chokes on the Coke he was drinking but neither boy seems to care that he’s in the throes of a cheap death. 

A sleep god gave their kid a dream about Logan? About his little brother? This can’t be real life. 

Logan, without a clue in the world of the implications of that statement, just says, “Cool, was it a good one?”

Oscar seems to think about it for a second before nodding. 

“Yeah. Yeah, it was a pretty good one.”

That statement must have been some kind of secret code the two made up the second Dalton wasn’t there, because Logan just nods and doesn’t react at all when Oscar grabs his wrist and starts pulling Logan out of the tent. Logan starts yammering away in his usual hyperactivity, and Oscar just nods along as he leads the blond to gods know where. 

And Dalton is left sitting in the kart tent. What the fuck is his life?

#patron deity au #fic: fresh kill #my fic #my writing #also posted on ao3 #f1 rpf #f1 rpf fic #logan sargeant #oscar piastri #loscar #dalton sargeant #hey guys the plot bunnies got me again

[starlight-tav]

Mortal Again

Gale x Trans Male Tav

Content: smut, minor act 2 spoilers, slightly angsty gale, lots of fluff and trust, anal sex (Amethyst uses magic to enlarge his bottom growth for penetration), hope

Summary: Gale doesn't know why Amethyst cares for him, but he finally confesses that he wants him. In return, Amethyst gives him everything.

Gale can hardly believe it on the best of days – that Amethyst would have affection for someone like him. He is a constellation of insecurity, ravenous ambition, and spurned desires. And now he is also given unto death by the gods themselves. What can he offer him, save for blathering lectures and ill-wrought witticisms?

Gods, but he wishes Tara were here; well, rather he wishes he were at home in Waterdeep and her good company. For all is foolhardiness, she offers him remarkably little judgment. Constructive criticism? Aplenty. But judgment? No. She only wishes to see him contented. And, if he were completely honest with himself, she seems to know better than he how to achieve that. Always has. 

Gale draws in a surplus of breath and releases it like a field ox under heavy yoke. Amethyst's ears perk at the sound from his perch at Astarion's tent. To the vampire spawn's great relief, the half-elf's words trail off as he becomes distracted by the wizard's distress. 

"Just go to him," Astarion groans, momentarily dropping his mending work to his lap. "And leave me to my task. You're annoying me." 

Amethyst glares at Astarion and the spawn shoos him. The urge to stubbornly remain at his companion's side out of spite is strong, but the desire to investigate Gale's weariness is stronger. 

Amethyst stands and crosses camp. He finds Gale seated on a stool, book unopened in his lap, with a ponderous frown creasing his brow. 

"Care to share the burden, my dear?" Amethyst ventures, squatting in his usual way in front of Gale so he can look up into the wizard's eyes. 

Immediately, Gale's brow softens, and a smile graces his lips as if unbidden. He opens his mouth to protest, but his thoughts of Tara chastise him as though she were actually present. She would urge him to be honest with one he claims to be so fond of. So, he asks Amethyst to join him for a walk. 

The pair travel in companionable silence to a knoll blanketed in the dark grass so common here in the Shadow-cursed Lands. Gale sits first and then gestures for Amethyst to join him. 

"I've been thinking about you," Gale begins, eyes trained on a crooked tree just ahead of them. "And how strange it is that you've come to care for me."

Amethyst's pale brows furrow as he examines Gale's expression. He doesn't know what he sees there, so he waits for Gale to continue. 

"The truth is, I fear I have too little time left and even fewer virtues to give you. In a wry twist of fate, it seems that the very thing that could fashion me into a far worthier man would also bring our journey together to an end. You deserve more than a fool. More than a sacrificial lamb. More than I am. And yet…" 

Gale suddenly turns to look at Amethyst, and just as Gale softened the moment he heard the half-elf's voice, so too did Amethyst melt into the warmth of the wizard's gaze.

"…And yet, selfishly, I want you. I want to give myself to you. A paltry offering, I am, but-"

Amethyst surges forward and quiets Gale with a touch of his lips to the corner of the wizard's mouth. 

He pulls away from Gale, just enough to capture his eyes with his own, and assures him with confidence and grace, "There is nothing meager about what you are willing to share with me, Gale. I want it all. I want you. And you can have all of me in return." 

Perhaps it is the earnestness with which Amethyst speaks, but Gale finds neither will nor word of protest within himself. Instead, he leans into his companion and kisses him delicately. 

Amethyst responds eagerly, pressing into Gale's body, his hand finding the back of Gale's neck to pull him closer. 

Gale marvels at the balance Amethyst strikes between insistence and restraint, and chuckles against his lips. 

"What's so funny?" Amethyst asks, smiling in between pecks to Gale's cheek and jaw.

Gale's hand travels the length of Amethyst's arm and shoulder to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck as the warlock-sorcerer nips at his skin. "Nothing. You're perfect," he says. Amethyst hums against him and sucks lightly at his throat. 

Gale moans, a quiet and desperate little sound. 

"Like that?" Amethyst asks.

"Yes." Gale tugs on Amethyst's hair so the man looks up at him. "I'm all yours, Amethyst."

The way that Gale says it makes his meaning clear, and Amethyst grins before pressing an agonizingly chaste kiss to Gale's adam's apple. 

"Want me to mark you?" He asks, nipping playfully. "Want me to write my desire into your skin?" 

"Yes. Gods, yes." 

Amethyst latches onto Gale, sucking bruises into the column of his throat, and Gale's grip in his white hair tightens. 

The half-elf hums with pleasure at the sting on his scalp and the sound makes Gale's cock throb. 

Gale nearly whimpers his lover's name and Amethyst bites him in response.

"I want to fuck you," Amethyst speaks against Gale's skin, voice darkened with need. 

"I would like that very much." Gale cards his fingers through Amethyst's hair. "I want it to be perfect. I want to bond with you the way the gods do."   Amethyst freezes for a brief moment, body gone rigid against Gale's before he slowly disentangles from the Wizard.

"What's wrong?" Gale asks, voice gone tight with restrained panic.

Amethyst uses both of his hands to tenderly hold Gale's face, thumbs gently tracing his cheek bones. 

"Gale, I am no god," he says, sadness where desire filled his voice only a moment ago. "I neither need nor want perfection."

Like hearth fire, the words soothe something deep inside Gale's heart. Maybe Tara is not the only one with insight into Gale's needs. 

"Okay," Gale smiles and presses his lips to Amethyst's forehead. "What do you have in mind?"

"Just be with me, hm?" Amethyst asks. 

Gale nods. 

Amethyst grins and stands, pulling Gale up with him. They return to camp and surreptitiously gather their bedrolls before returning to their secluded glade. They create a comfortable pallet for themselves and kneel naked before one another, lips joining in a feverish kiss.

Pink blooms beneath Amethyst's ravenous mouth from Gale's jaw to his hips, and it drives the wizard mad. When his lover's tongue finally meets his aching cock, Gale whines like he never has before. 

"Please," he begs, adjusting his position so he can spread his legs to suit Amethyst's broad shoulders. "More." 

Amethyst hums contentedly, dragging his tongue from base to tip before sucking the head into his mouth. 

Gale's toes curl and he groans with the release of weeks of want. With anyone else, he'd have been embarrassed at his easy arousal, but Amethyst responds so greedily to his pleasure that he couldn't be ashamed even if he'd been able to think through the unspent lust.

The half-elf's teeth gently scrape along the underside of Gale's cock and the wizard trembles, his fists bunching in the blanket beneath them. Amethyst lets Gale fall from his mouth so he can speak an incantation to oil his fingers. 

He presses the pad of his thumb to Gale's asshole and looks up at him, "May I?"

"Yes, by all means," Gale nods, grinning.

Amethyst dips his thumb into Gale for a brief moment before replacing it with his index finger. Gale had never had something this solid and warm inside of him before, and the feel of it sends sparks up the length of his spine. 

"Amethyst, please," he requests sweetly. 

Amethyst takes his dick back into his mouth, sinking his finger as far into Gale as it will go, and a melodic whine spills from between Gale's lips. Amethyst slips a second finger into Gale and the wizard gasps when he presses into his prostate. 

"Oh, hells," Gale sighs. "More. Please, more." 

Amethyst happily gives Gale what he asks of him. He swallows around his cock and soon presses a third finger into him. 

"Amethyst, please, I'm close," Gale says, tangling his hand in his lover's hair.

Amethyst releases Gale from his mouth and halts his fingers, keeping him full but no longer stimulating him. 

"Gale?" 

Gale props himself up on an elbow to meet the warlock-sorcerer's gaze. "Yes, my love?"

"I'd like to fuck you now." 

Gale quirks an eyebrow, "Is… that not what you've been doing?" 

Amethyst chuckles and moves forward to kiss Gale. The wizard's asshole clenches around his fingers, and Amethyst pulls them out until Gale whines. 

"I have something else in mind," the half-elf whispers. "Do you trust me?" 

Gale nods, "Of course."

The warlock-sorcerer presses his lips to Gale's chastely and grins. He speaks an incantation and Gale's eyes widen. The wizard's eyes fall to the space between his lover's legs and watch as his small cock grows large enough to penetrate him. Gale's cheeks grow warm and his heart rate increases. 

"Of all the ways I've used magic for intimacy, never have I considered this," he says, giggling with genuine glee. 

"When you're a man like me, innovation is sometimes necessary," Amethyst smiles and Gale sees the vulnerability in his lilac eyes. He realizes belatedly that Amethyst may not have been as confident as he seemed earlier. His heart fills with admiration.

Gale kisses his lover and speaks his desire against his lips. 

"I want you," he says. "I want your cock inside me. Please?" 

Amethyst shivers and presses his tongue into Gale's mouth, voracious with lust and relief. 

Gale feels the length of him between them as they embrace, and it stokes the fire burning in his belly. 

"Amethyst, please," he urges, desperation growing. 

Without further preamble, Amethyst dips his fingers into his own cunt and uses the slick to coat his cock. He lines himself with Gale's asshole and kisses him again as he presses inside. 

Amethyst may not be a god, but his body meeting Gale's is an act of divinity such that Gale breathes his name in supplication.  

"You feel so good," Amethyst praises him, panting into his neck as he rocks his hips against Gale's ass. 

Gale hooks his ankles behind Amethyst's back, pulling him closer, deeper. Amethyst is hard and warm inside of him; and so, so corporeal. He is a comforting weight pressing him into the earth, so substantial – so real. 

"More," he pleads.

Gale doesn't know how, but Amethyst understands what he needs. His lover tugs Gale's hair free of its tie and combs his fingers through it a few times before tugging his head back. Amethyst latches onto his wizard's neck, leaving marks upon his skin like tenets etched in stone. 

Without warning, the heat in Gale's belly swells, and he cums between their bodies with a strangled cry of his lover's name. 

"Fuck, Gale," Amethyst shudders and releases, his slick trickling down the inside of his own thigh. 

Moments pass with them entangled, breathing in the scent of their coupling while their hearts race together. Amethyst lets go of his concentration, and his cock returns to its smaller state. Gale clenches around nothing, missing its warm immediately. 

Amethyst affectionately noses the lines of Gale's orb marking, and it occurs to Gale that he is wholly satisfied. The revelation stirs his emotions and his eyes blur with unshed tears. 

"I had forgotten," he starts to speak, pausing to swallow around the lump in his throat. "I had forgotten how good it could feel to be so mortal." 

Amethyst's gem-like eyes meet his and Gale smiles. 

"Thank you," the wizard says. 

Amethyst kisses Gale, a sweet lingering touch of lips. 

"You make me happy, Gale," Amethyst says with earnest adoration. 

"You make me happy too," Gale promises. 

They lay together for a long while before Gale conjures fresh water for them to wash up with. Amethyst balls up the blanket that was on top of their little pallet and promises himself it'll get washed tomorrow. He and Gale cuddle beneath Amethyst's raggedy quilt, which is thankfully mostly clean.  

While Amethyst naps, Gale scratches lovingly at his scalp and considers himself anew. Tonight, he made love as mortals do – filthy, sweaty, earthen love – and it was the sweetest pleasure he's ever experienced. For the first time in well over a year, he feels truly happy. To be here. To be mortal. To be with a man who may yet love him. 

This is hope, he thinks. And he resolves not to squander it. He will find a way to defeat the Absolute and to live, goddess be damned. 

#gale has not had sex in a long time so he's needy okay #he's a good boy and i love him and want to give himi what he needs #also fuck mystra #also posted on ao3 #gale x male tav #trans male tav #trans tav #gale x named tav #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale bg3 #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #gale smut #bg3 smut #my tav

[chaosmarshmallow]

Kiss me you animal

Tw: smut, underage sex, breeding kink, possessiveness

AN: Ello, this is my very first smut work (also posted on ao3 btw) so ehh enjoy ig lmao, let me know what you think and how I can better my smut writing in the comments

Toedles <3

Summary:

Count Manabu's party was probably the most boring thing ever for you... But there was at least one good thing that came from it.

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

Count Manabu's ball/party/whatever it was, was, lightly put, absolutely boring.

You knew that Yuuichi wanted to establish as many new relationships as possible, but you'd rather be doing anything other than this.

Just like he was doing all night, Yuuichi was talking to some fat, rich guys who thought they were really funny with their misogynistic jokes. You, ofcourse, didn't say anything, you just stood there by Yuuichi's side looking pretty with a forced smile on your face.

"Hah!" One of the men declared, a smug grin on his face as he combed with his thick fingers through his greasy blond/grey hair, "Yes, women are only good for … thing: cooking, cleaning and…" he stopped, probably to make his pathetic speech a bit more dramatic, "sex!"

The others roared with laughter, grabbing their bulging stomach as they shook.

Disgusting

"Isn't that right sweetheart!" The man left from you exclaimed, as he smacked you hard on your ass, making you yelp in surprise.

Apparently, the others thought that this was really funny too and started laughing loudly again. The man who smacked you, a middle-aged white man with brown slick backed hair, upturned light brown eyes and a nose the size of your hand, snickered and looked you up and down. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pressed his face way too close to yours for your liking, basically hanging over you.

"Say, beautiful," He purred, caressing your cheek with his other hand, "why don't we go to my room and have some fun?"

Your face scrunched up in disgust.

"No thank you, sir." You answered, trying your best to still be polite.

He grinned and licked his lips. "Come on baby, I know you want to." His filthy breath hit your nose as he got even closer, making you want to puke, "Stop trying to play hard to get and just come with me."

You tried to push him away, resulting in him only pressing himself firmer against you, when suddenly you felt a second arm grabbing you by the waist and yanking you away from him.

Startled you almost fell, but just in time you were caught by whoever pulled you away.

Dazed, you looked up at your 'savior' and saw a furious looking Yuuichi. Of Course the other men didn't see it, his face was just as perfectly masked with a polite smile as before, but you saw his eyes darkened with rage and his lips barely noticeable tightened. You knew him well and you knew very well when he was angry…

"I'm afraid I'll have to step in and stop you from doing so, kind sir!" He said, squeezing you tighter against him.

The man, a full grown man, pouted. "Ow come on…" He nagged.

"Sorry, but this lady is already someone else's." He insisted.

The brown haired man rolled his eyes, got too close again and quickly, out of nowhere, grabbed one of your tits, making you yell in protest.

"Come on man, we can share right?" He drawled, "if you want I'll even let you watch if you want!"

Welp, he was dead.

Swiftly, Yuuichi seized hold of the wrist.

The big shot, obviously not expecting that, looked up, bewildered, from my face, only the wince back in shock as he saw the dark and smileless face of the black haired boy.

"I'm afraid you didn't understand, sir…" he said slowly, squeezing his wrist, making him wince in discomfort as he let go of my boob.

"She's MINE." He growled and with a loud snap you heard the bone break. The guy cried out in pain and fell to his knees, his wrist still held by the furious Yuuichi, who was now chuckling.

A massive grin, almost inhuman, appeared on his face as he crouched to his level. Staring intensely in his eyes and pressing his face very close to the rich man's, he threatened: "If you touch her one more time…" He tightened his grip on the wrist again, "I will kill you."

After those words he let go, making the man fully fall to the ground as he cradled his broken wrist. He took your hand and tugged you with him as he stormed away, probably to your room.

You barely had any time to think, when you were pushed against the wall as soon as you entered, so hard that your breath got knocked out of your lungs.

A leg was pressed between yours as his hands firmly grabbed your hips.

Surprised, you grasped his shirt and looked up at his face.

He still looked absolutely livid, but there was also something hungry in his eyes as he looked you up and down, like you were a prey. You shivered and clasped his shirt even tighter. "Y… Yuuichi?" You stuttered.

His breathing fastened and without saying anything he pressed his lips against you in a violent and rough kiss, making you gasp. His lips were cold and a bit chapped, but they were perfect to you. They were him and you loved everything about him. They also had the slight taste of some sweet drink you couldn't place, probably from during the party.

He bit your lip, almost drawing blood, and you immediately opened them. You didn't even try to fight for dominance as his tongue slipped in, you gladly submitted yourself to him. You pressed yourself against him and moaned in his mouth as one of his hands slithered under your dress and grabbed your thigh.

You panted as he pulled away, your vision blurry and your heart fluttering in your chest.

He grinned again as he studied the state you were in. Slowly, the hand on your hip went to your back and undid the zipper of the dress. Thankfully, he didn't rip it like the previous one, you really liked this one. Your bra followed quickly, leaving you almost all naked and vulnerable before Yuuichi, who still was fully dressed.

The dress pooled at your feet and, self conscious, you crossed your arms over your chest, face turning red.

His grin grew as he caressed your face gently.

"Come on, don't hide yourself from me…" He purred, "let me see how beautiful you are."

Slowly, you uncrossed them and looked up at him through your lashes.

"That's it," He slowly kissed a way from your neck to your ear as he whispered, "good girl."

You shuddered again and grasped his shirt again as you exhaled audibly, squeezing your thighs together when you felt a familiar heat building.

He chuckled and without giving you a warning he bit you on a spot below your ear, surely leaving a mark.

You yelped and lightly slapped him on the chest. "Don't do that! Stop! It hurts!"

That obviously didn't make him happy, with a grunt he shifted his leg against your core, making you gasp, as he slammed his right hand to the wall next to your head.

"I can do whatever I want to you." He snarled, "You're mine, MINE." He moved his leg again, the friction making you moan. He chuckled at your reaction and swiped his thumb over one of your nipples.

"You're a fucking liar," he hissed, sounding amused, "telling me to stop, while you obviously like it." He squeezed your nipple as you grinded on his thigh.

"Tch, look at you, acting like some whore." He hummed, one hand playing with your tit while the other stroked your neck. "Maybe I should have let that man have a go, since you're such a slut anyway."

Your eyes winded and you pressed yourself against him, your arms wrapped around his waist and face stuffed in his shirt. "No!" You almost yelled, "I don't want him!".

He smirked and grabbed both your thighs.

"Well, why don't you prove it to me?" He easily lifted you up, your legs automatically curling around his waist as he carried you to the bed. He threw you on it, crawled over you and seated himself between your thighs, looking at you with that dark and hungry look that you loved so much.

With ease, he pulled your panties off, leaving you completely naked and at his mercy.

He kissed you again, just as fiercely as before, but less angry. Your hands reached up and you tangled them in his soft, wavy black hair. Your lips moved in tandem and you slowly grinded against him.

Again, he left you breathless and wanting more as he pulled away.

His teeth latched on your neck once again, making marks that would probably be visible for days after, as his right hand wandered down to your pussy, his fingers softly trailing down your skin, creating a path of goosebumps.

His middle finger stroked over your slit, gathering juices on his finger.

"Would you look at that," He teased, the large grin back on his face, "all wet for me, isn't that right?"

Ashamed, you turned your head away from him and hid your face with your arms.

Without warning he pushed a finger in, making you gasp.

"Look at me." He ordered, as he pumped it once, almost testing. Without saying a thing you obliged, looking into his eyes.

"Good," he purred, circling your clit with his thumb, "now tell me… who's slut you are?"

You moaned and your hands grabbed the sheets tightly as your back arched.

"Y…" you stuttered, "yours… I'm your slut!" "Good." He said, obviously pleased with your answer.

Steadily, he began thrusting his finger in and out, quickly adding a second, a filthy squishing sound and your sinful moans filling the room.

He didn't stop his marking either, your whole neck and chest were covered in bite marks and hickeys… those would be a pain to cover up tomorrow, but you were almost certain that he would want you to keep them visible, to show everyone who you belonged to.

It didn't take long before you felt your orgasm approaching, your legs tightened around his hips and your body stiffened.

"Good girl…" He coos, speeding up his pace even more when he noticed, making you cry out, "Won't you be a good slut and come for me?" And just like that the coil in your stomach snapped and you came on his fingers.

It was kinda funny when you thought about it, the power he held over you… you loved him with all your heart, you would do anything he asked you to… s̶o̶m̶e̶t̶i̶m̶e̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶w̶o̶n̶d̶e̶r̶e̶d̶ ̶i̶f̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶f̶e̶l̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶s̶a̶m̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶y̶.

You whimpered when he pulled out, already feeling empty again and missing the stretch, causing him to chuckle.

"Aw, already wanting for more?" He mocked, as he brushed some hair out of your face, "Fine then… I won't keep you waiting."

He got up and swiftly got rid of his pants and shirt, not wasting a second before he crawled back onto you.

He gave his already hard cock a few pumps, making it stand fully erect.

He didn't have the thickest one, but what he lacked in girth, he made up in length.

"Ready?" He said, grinning like a mad man. You gulped in anticipation and nodded, tightening your hold on the sheets and spreading your legs even more.

With a grunt, he pushed in, holding your hips firmly in place, the slick covering your gummy walls making it easier to enter.

He waited a second, giving you time to get used to it, though you didn't really need it.

He pulled back slightly and roughly thrusted back in. Your walls fluttered and your arched your back, a gasp leaving your mouth.

He immediately took a rough pace, pounding in your tight pussy like his life depended on it, occasionally letting out a grunt or deep moan.

You held onto the sheets like they were a lifeline, writhing and wailing in pleasure, moaning his name with each thrust against your g-spot.

"Y… yes." He snarled, "I'm the… one making you feel this way." He gave an extra hard thrust, almost making you squeal. "You're mine, all mine, you hear me?"

"Y…yes!" You cried out, "I'm yours! Only yours!"

Sloppily, he pressed his mouth against yours in a wet kiss, but it only took a few seconds before he stopped and concentrated again on pounding into your dripping cunt.

"You're mine," his hot breath hitted your face as he panted above you, "I'm gonna cum inside you…" He looked you deep in the eyes. They were filled with an intensity and hunger in them you had never seen before, making the heat in your core grow even hotter. "And your gonna carry my fucking child." His thrusts sped up even more, making you a blabbering mess, unable to answer or even react to what he said. "You'd like that, won't you?" He rambled, "bearing my child? Being a mom?"

The coil in your stumach grew thighter and thighter with each thrust, you were getting really close to the edge…

"And everyone will fucking see," a furious look crossed his face, "that you're fucking mine." Each word he accentuated by giving you a hard thrust. The last one was hard enough to push you over the edge and with a loud moan you came, squeezing his cock even tighter as you reached up and wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your nails in his back.

The sudden change in tightness caused Yuuichi to groan and abandon the rough but steady rithm he had and he pounded into you without abandon.

The overstimulation made you whine and your sensitive pussy twiched.

After a couple of thrusts, he came too, painting your walls white with cum as he moaned.

The room was quiet, only the sound of both your heavy pants could be heard. Without pulling out, Yuuichi layed down next to you, slightly turning you to the side to make it more comfortable.

"Can't have me pulling out and waisting all my cum now, can we?" He joked as he curled up and cuddled with you, holding you tightly against his chest.

You peered up at his face, seeing that he genuinely ment it.

"Wait," you said surprised, "you really ment it? You want me to have your child?"

"Ofcourse," he answered, looking at you like you said something rediculous, "you thought I was lying?"

"I…" you didn't know what to answer, "I don't know…"

He hummed, but didn't say anything, only petted your hair slowly.

"Don't cover them up though." He abruptly said after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

"What?" You questioned.

"The marks," he answered, "don't cover them up."

You giggled. "Oh shut up, you dummy!"

Maybe having his child wasn't that bad of an idea?

#tomodachi game #yuuichi katagiri #yuuichi x reader #yuuichi katagiri x reader #I love this guy #also posted on ao3 #I'm mentally ill

[one-eyed-dragons-queen]

to covet and crown prologue/_? aemond targaryen x twin sister!ofc

WARNING THIS IS A TWINCEST FIC

'Dragons were covetous creatures, and Daemon knew how hotly dragon blood burned when someone attempted to keep a dragon from what it believed was rightfully theirs. And if Aemond Targaryen had decided that his sweet sister Valarra was his and his alone, neither Alicent, nor Viserys, nor all the Lords of Westeros or the Seven themselves could keep her from him.'

PROLOGUE:

110 AC

On the sixth day of the seventh moon, one-hundred-and-ten years after Aegon’s Conquest, Queen Alicent began the labors of her third pregnancy. All through the night she screamed and bellowed, the servants say, sounding more dragon than woman – though she herself was a Hightower. 

Her third labor was far worse than the labors she endured to bring young Prince Aegon and sweet Princess Helaena into the world, and thrice the maesters fled her chamber under the guise of questioning King Viserys on what ought to be done to ease his Queen. In truth the sight had been terrible to behold, and one that all present had been eager to escape; the screaming, the blood, it had overwhelmed at least two handmaidens and left more than one maester with shaking hands and stammering words. For surely such torment could only be endured for so long, and as the hour of the dragon passed, the babe had yet to end its mother’s suffering. 

Yet soon as the sky lit with the dawn, a blaze of oranges and pinks and reds of the rising sun on the horizon, Queen Alicent brought into the world two dragons of her own. The second child was small, unexpected, and for all the pious present, a gift from the Seven, for it was the seventh day of the seventh month. At the time the Queen had wanted to scoff at their holy reverence as she lay naked up to her waist and covered in blood, still panting and sweating like an animal as the blazing dawn cast its heat throughout the stifling chamber. Unfamiliar faces of witless handmaidens and prying maesters swarmed her vision as she looked around frantically for the babes she had just given life to. Her mind raced – they were gone, someone took them, someone took her babes, someone-

“A Prince and a Princess, Your Grace,” a faceless maester spoke from somewhere at her side, “hale and beautiful.” 

She vaguely felt the two bundles wrapped in fine silk being arranged in her arms as another handmaiden she did not recognize - through tears she hadn’t realized were welling – gently wiped her brow with a cool cloth. Immediately she looked down at the two babes in her arms, desperate to see what so much pain and agony had bought her. In the instant she looked upon them, all of the space held in her heart for Aegon and Helaena was shoved aside only to be filled to the brim by her newborn twins. Their skin was softer than any silk she’d felt in her life, the most perfect shade of the palest pink – unmarred and perfect. Identical, as far as she could tell, and only a year later would she learn that they were not. But in that moment, her little Prince and her little Princess both had the faintest wisps of silver-blond hair, and violet eyes that only opened enough to allow her a small peek. 

Two dragons, she mused, not Hightowers. 

She knew it was folly to hope for a child bearing the dark locks and emerald eyes of her own lineage. 

‘The blood of the dragon is strong,’ Viserys had said when she voiced her innermost desire for a child of her own likeness – even just one, ‘there is no blood in any living man that can overcome it.’

Long moments of studying her babes pass before Viserys is entering the bedchamber, his smile wider than it had ever been with the birth of Aegon or Helaena. He’d undoubtedly been informed of the omens and good fortune that the birth of their twins brought forth. Congratulations was heartily offered to Visery from all of those in the room as Alicent remained silent, looking down upon the silver-dusted heads of her twins. She tried to ignore the feeling of the stiff and drying blood beneath her thighs, and the salt of the sweat that dripped into seam of her closed lips. Her chestnut hair clung dryly to her forehead and neck. She was suffering the aftermath of her childbirth as the fire of the sky’s horizon blazed through the open window, turning the blood on the sheets sticky against her skin. 

“How fare the children, my Queen?” Viserys asked from his sudden place beside her, looking down over her shoulder at the bundles in red silk.

I am suffering.

Alicent remembers her courtesies, remembers there is an entire court present in her bedchamber as she schools her expression into one of Queenly contentment.

“The maester assures me they are healthy, Your Grace.” 

I just wanted a babe who looked like me.

“Wonderful, wonderful!” Viserys practically shouts, causing the babes to startle and cry.

Perhaps he will allow me to name my daughter in honor of my mother…

But before the thought even passes her mind, Viserys has turned from her. “Grand Maester, see to it that word is spread quickly, and that the bells of Baelor are rung for the remainder of the day. Have ravens sent to every Lord in Westeros that the Queen has given birth to Prince Aemond and Princess Valarra.” 

Alicent’s second hope died in her chest. Her babes were given names not of her choosing – names of long-dead Targaryens that had never much mattered to her. But with Viserys grinning from ear to ear at his proclamation, she mustered what little effort she had left in her to give, and she smiled. She smiled at her husband as he stole yet another desire from her, even if it was a theft unintended. His blood would always overpower hers and her children would always be a reminder of that. Her lineage would die with her – another broodmare to further the Targaryen line, though for a gentler stallion she could not have dared to hope. Viserys was kind to her, if a bit absentminded and blissfully unaware at times. He would make a good father to – he was a good father. But what would her children say of their Hightower mother in the years to come, when her vibrant green faded into the background of red and black? Would they see her as she saw herself most days? A lesser vessel to further a greater line? 

No, she resolved vehemently, they would not.

Targaryen they would be in blood and appearance, such was true. But Aemond and Valarra would be hers. She would raise them as her own mother had raised her – to be kind and gentle, to conduct themselves with the utmost courtesy and dignity, and to find appreciation in things besides dragons, and war, and a dead Kingdom on the other side of the world. Her twins would be taught justice, and humility, and propriety. She would cast out as much of the Targaryen ways as she could when it came to her twins. They would not marry their cousins, or aunt, or uncle, or nephew, or niece. She would not allow it. The Hightower bloodline did not flow through such foul ties, and neither would the blood of the babes in her arms. Viserys had already made plain his desire to wed Aegon and Helaena, and she knew there would be no swaying him when he began saying things such as ‘the Valyrian way’ and ‘blood purity’. 

Her stomach still churned at the thought of her son and daughter together; wedding, bedding, begetting heirs. 

It was unnatural. 

It was sinful. 

It was an abomination against the Gods.

Yes, she would raise them as Hightowers. Targaryen they may be, and dragons they may ride, but their mother’s blood would flow just as strongly. And for once she would silence Viserys’ words, and show him that Hightower blood was not so easily subdued. She would make sure of it. She would dress them in green and silver if she had to. She would breath her own fire and set aflame all expectation that simply because their hair was silver and their eyes were the color of amethysts that they were any less descendants of their mother’s blood. Viserys would not take this opportunity from her. Not again. She would right all of the wrongs in the Targaryen bloodline until she brought forth something new, far less black than green.   

But suddenly, as if all of the spirits of every dead Targaryen had heard her treacherous thoughts, the babes in her arms screamed. And as she quickly looked down, she saw her twins bathed in the red of the sun’s rising, wrapped in the red silks of her Dragonlord’s house, and could not deny that they looked to be truly made of fire and blood. 

#also posted on ao3 #Aemond Targaryen x oc #Aemond Targaryen x twin sister ofc #aemond targaryen

[technically-a-writer-technically]

remember to do the biphobia/queer hangout post!!

i rlly wanna read it!!<3

Assumption Make an Ass Out of You

Prompt by @whomst-the-hell: steve always knew he was queer fic where steve keeps trying to invite himself to Queer Hangouts w eddie and robin and they keep being like “uhhhh this isnt really your scene…” until steve is finally like “listen i get it ok theres all this fucking stigma but you two are the last people i expected this from!” and eddie and robin are like “youre a very good ally and we appreciate it but the truth is you just cannot relate to some of our experiences and you need to accept that!” and then steve is like “woooaaaahhh hold on i think we’re having two different conversations. i thought you were doing that thing gay ppl do sometimes where they treat bi people like we arent really queer or whatever. did you guys genuinely think i was heterosexual? lol that’s embarrassing”

Gave it a spelling and grammar check before putting it on A03: Assumption Make an Ass Out of You - technically-a-writer-technically (RegularRainbow) - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

Eddie calls Robin: Birdie

Tags: Angsty, probably a bit ooc, they mean well, their tough love is tough though. Original Male Character/Steve Harrington. I tried learning 80s Slang for this, it lasted several hours and then I wrote this all-in-one sitting, so probably not 80s accurate, especially towards the end. Not beta read, we die like men.

1. Never met an Ally so Good

Tall, Olive Skin, Green Eyes, passed Steve a drink, something pink and yellow, blended ice, with a tiny umbrella and a cherry.

“I didn’t know what you were drinking, but I took my best guess” He said, smile bright as fluorescent lights. The guy was cute in a clinical type of way, clean cut, clean-shaven.

Steve smiled, took the straw from his melting ice in a cup, and gave it a taste, twisting the straw around his tounge. “Ah. Tastes Perfect,”

“Oh, you’re a real maneater aren’t you,” He slipped between Steve’s legs, resting his hands on either side of Steve, boxing him in, “Come on Pretty Boy let me take you for a spin.”

Steve smiled, red decorating the tips of his ears and nose. “Sorry, can’t stay that long gotta drive back to nowhere-ville”

“Alright, Just one dance then, and maybe your number?”

Steve bit the corner of his lip, and smiled “Maybe …” All doe eyes, looking up from under his lashes,“ … maybe you could kiss me?”

“Hey, why don’t you back off” said Eddie, stepping between the two, pushing the guy back with an extended hand.

“Really! I don’t see your name on him” The guy squawked, Steve hadn’t even gotten his name.

“That’s not,” was Eddie’s reply, he sighed “look I’m helping you, trust me, he’s just being nice.”

“Looks like a fucking Belle to me,”

Eddie tilted his head and fixed him with a look, throwing his hand up as if to shrug, and said, “He’s just too nice to tell you to go away.”

“Look there are better ways to get dudes off your guy, you don’t gotta lie,” Then he peeked behind Eddie to get a good look at Steve one more time, and with a wink, he said, “If you ever find yourself in need of French lessons you know where to find me.”

Steve giggled, twirling his straw. (Fucking Flirting.)

Then, Steve said, “You really didn’t need to do that Eddie, I was fine, he was fine.”

“No, he was not fine. He was hitting on you, Steve” Robin chimed in.

“Isn’t that, like, the point of all this. Aren’t we here to get hit on? Flirt a little,” Steve leaned in and whispered, “Wave the white flags, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, but it’s not cool to lead people on Steve, especially not here.” Eddie said.

Steve winced a little, his smile falling slightly, before he picked it back up, “I mean, there’s no harm in flirting, I didn’t know you guys were gonna get all riled up because I didn’t want to take him home.”

“Look it’s not all about sex, this is about community.” Robin said.

Steve sucked his teeth, and took a swig of his beer, “Okay, uh, whatever, I’m gonna pay for my drinks, and uh, sit in a fucking corner I guess.”

“Grow up, King Steve” Eddie said.

“Fuck you, Eddie, King Steve thinks you should find your own ride home.”

“I mean, we should probably leave.” Robin said.

“No, Rob, if it’s gonna be like that, I’ll just wait in the car.” Steve said. He gathered his things, throwing his coat on, fluffing his hair up and out from under the collar of his a letterman style jacket.

Steve stepped out into the cool night air, face hot with fury. He sighed, trying to release the tension that had begun to build.

“Hey, Pretty Boy, I didn’t get your name before your guard dog cock-blocked.”

“It’s — He’s just a friend. And, Uh, It’s Steve, Yours?”

“My friends call me Ian,”

“Well, Ian, thanks for the drink”

“Really,” Ian said, and it was almost a laugh, “I just had the bartender throw something together, I don’t like that fruity shit, I mean not like that, I just don’t like fruit juice, from fruit,” His talking tapered out. “You’re super cute, and it kind of fries my brain. I mean those pants are too tight.” (Ian say too tight, like he doesn’t mean it, like those pants make him think of something else.)

Steve laughed and looked down at himself, before smiling back at Ian. “Still want my number?”

2. Lavender Menace

Steve dyed the bottom layer of his hair purple. The faintest shade of lavender, barely it, In fact, it was practically silver. But, still, he was sure that everyone who needed to know that it wasn’t silver, would notice. They would notice.

“Did you dye your hair, Steve?” Robin asked, leaning across the Book Store counter to get a good look at his peek-a-boo dye job.

Steve resisted the urge to shake his head and show off. It took a long time to get his hair all nice, he wasn’t gonna mess it up for five seconds of Rob’s appreciation, not after the stunt she and Eddie pulled with Ian.

“Joyce helped,” Steve said, and brushed his fingers through the thick of his hair to show off the dye, just a little bit.

“Don’t you think you should have gone with another color,” Rob said, “You don’t want people to get the wrong idea about you.”

“I —“

“The hoard has arrived,” Eddie declared, as Mike, Will, and Dustin ran in straight for the new comic book section. “Whoa, your hair.” he said.

“Yeah, my hair.” Steve felt the weight of a frown pull at the corners of his mouth.

“You sure that’s the right color?” Eddie grabbed a lock of Steve’s dyed hair, and twirled it between his fingers, “You let the toner sit too long, it’s all purple-y now.”

With a huff, Steve said, “I was going for purple-y”

“Yeah?” Robin said.

“Why?” Eddie said.

“Because I want people to know I’m down with Dorthy” Steve said.

“You shouldn’t have dyed your hair purple, though” Eddie replied.

“Yeah, I agree, I think it’s a bit much … you’ve gone a bit too far this time, and after the bar” Robin said

“W-What do you mean after the bar that was all you guys, I was just having a good time.”

Eddie sighed and looked away, throwing his head back, and disappearing down an isle. “You explain it to your pet jock, Birdie, my head hurts.”

“Look Steve, people don’t need to know you’re ‘down with Dorothy’ it’s better if your not loud about it actually, keeps everyone safer anyway.”

Steve gets hot in the face, bright white-hot red in the cheeks, breaks into a sweat, he’s so mad. Then he’s close to crying, clearing his throat some, but it’s closing in on him. He’s so furious, he’s near tears about it. Dancing around breaking into tears.

If they didn’t like his hair, they could have just said that.

“Whatever you say, Robin” he said, wetly.

“Steve come on, it’s not your life, it’s ours” was Robin’s reply.

He doesn’t speak to her for the rest of their shift.

When Steve got home, he dialed Ian’s house. Ian was there in five minutes flat (He lived 15 minutes away).

“Wow,” Ian said, “Your hair”

“Yeah, I know it’s awful” Steve said, the memory of his earlier conversations brought up sour thoughts.

“No, no, you look pretty, a real bodacious babe.”

Steve smiled, for the first time since he got of shift. “Shut up,”

“Kiss me about it,” was Ian’s reply.

3. Steve’s House Doesn’t have a Purple Door.

“You could have your party at my place?” Steve said, “My parents aren’t gonna be home for another like month anyway”

Eddie smiled at Robin,

“Plus, I’m great at throwing parties, you remember my parties.”

“I don’t think we,” Eddie gestured between himself and Robin, “Were ever invited to King Steve’s famous parties.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Steve said, “But they were famous for a reason. Have it at my place, it makes sense. The venue is like 50% of a party.”

“I was thinking, no allies though” Eddie said, “Just queer deviancy,” Eddie brought the devil hands up to his head like ears and smiled at Robin. They fist bumped.

What they meant was no Steve it seemed.

“Hey, can you pick us up? Robin voice came through the phone loud, like she was shouting on her end of the line.

“From where?” Steve asked.

“A party,” Robin said, Steve felt her wiggle her eyebrows, and she giggled softly.

“I need the location?” Steve said.

“Oh, um, were near Byrock Ct,”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a few.”

Steve got in his car and drove to the Byrock Bar, with its purple backdoor. Ian took him there once, and they danced. Steve loved dancing, it was nice letting go.

This didn’t feel nice.

Robin and Eddie crammed into the backseat of his car, laughing, tipsy, and maybe a little high. Covered in glitter. Eddie had red lipstick on and smeared down his chin. Robin was wearing, glitter gloss and a silvery highlighter.

“You guys look like you had fun,” Steve finally said, before he pulled off.

“I thought you guys were gonna stay in tonight,”

“Steve,” Robin said, it seemed with no real purpose at all, except maybe to stop Steve from going on.

“No, I remember you guys saying that nothing fun was happening tonight so you guys weren’t going out, that’s what you told me!” Steve said, he was white-knuckling the steering wheel.

“Look, Steve, Birdie’s not gonna tell you, but sometimes we’ve got to leave poor ol’ Stevie at home.” Eddie said, kicking his feet up on the block of an armrest between the driver’s and passenger’s seat.

“Not every night is meant to include you, sometimes daddy’s got to come out and play” He said with a smile and a laugh.

Robin sputtered, “Ew, ew, I never want to hear you say something like that again.”

The drive home consisted of laughter and chatter between Eddie and Robin.

Steve pulled up to the entrance of Eddie’s trailer park, it was a short walk, maybe two trailers in was Eddie’s home. Usually, Steve drove him right up to the entrance, any closer and Eddie would fall into his home after opening the door.

“We’re here” Steve said, and put his car in park.

Eddie balked, “Really, are you being serious right now Stevie?”

“Shut up, don’t call me that.” Steve said, quickly, afraid he sounded like a petulant child, but angry enough that it didn’t matter much. “Get out of my car.” He said each word, one by one.

“Okay, King Steve, I’ll never ask for a ride with getting you your invite.”

“You’re a real fuck head, Eddie.”

“Whatever,” Eddie said, and slammed the door.

“That wasn’t fair dude,” Robin said. “How are we supposed to trust you if-”

Steve turned around, giving Robin a death stare, “Nothing, I don’t want to hear it, I, fuck Rob, I trusted you guys”

“Steve?”

“Shut. Up. Shut up.”

He dropped Rob off in front of her house, didn’t even pull into the driveway. He watched her get home safe, same way he did Eddie.

4. Steve’s Queer Agenda

Steve hasn’t been talking to them. He’s not gonna apologize first. And he’s not gonna speak to them until they apologize. Even if he felt like a bitch laying the silent treatment on thick.

Ian was rubbing his back, letting him lay all over him.

He mumbled into Ian’s lap.

“I can not understand jibberish.”

“Play with my hair, loser”

“Ooh, be nice.” Ian said, threading his finger into Steve’s hair.

There was a knock at the door, nice and sweet. Then another, practically knocking the door off its hinges.

“Okay, okay, coming” Steve shouted.

“Harrington residence, how can I help you?” Steve said.

Eddie smiled, pushing himself and Robin into the Harrington homestead.

Ian leaned up, peering over the sofa. He was looking for Steve, evident by the smile on his face, that fell quickly when he saw the culprits making Steve so, well, sad. Sad was the only way to put it. Beneath the quiet anger was hurt, and it hurt more than it made Steve angry. “Well, well, if it isn’t the terrible two-some”

“Bar guy?” Eddie said.

“Ian. My name is Ian.”

“Well, what are you two doing here because I don’t hear enough ass-kissing.” Ian said.

“Look,” Eddie said, looking from Ian to Steve “Maybe we all have the wrong idea,”

“Steve, I’m sorry we told you not to come out with us, and then had you come pick us up,” Robin said.

“Me too, I’m sorry” Eddie said.

“You’re a good ally” Eddie started.

“Are you fucking kidding me!” Steve interrupted. “Why even come if you’re just gonna fucking invalidate me to my face, what’s the point? I get it, I’m bisexual. I’m not gay. Fucking, Steve’s not queer enough to come out with us and get shitfaced. Whatever, call me whatever you want behind my back, but in my house? Really!”

“What?” Robin and Eddie said, practically in unision.

“Look, be biphobic somewhere else, okay. I don’t feel like dealing with this ever again.”

“No, no, I thought you were straight,”, “We,” Eddie gestured between himself and Robin, “thought you were straight.” Eddie practically tripped over his words, he was speaking them so fast.

“Are you fucking with me?” Steve said, “You thought I was straight.”

Eddie hesitantly nods, “We maybe thought you were straight.”

“Fucking, fuck you guys,”

“Yeah, fuck you guys” Ian said, repeated from the couch, laying down ergo he wasn’t visible anymore. “You made my boyfriend cry”

Robin looked horrified, “Steve, I didn’t know, I’m so so sorry. I never meant to make you feel like you didn’t have a community.” She quickly wiped away her tears, evidently determined not to cry right now, as she got red and sniffly. Robin walked toward Steve arms out like she was going to try to hug him. She was.

Robin said, “Can I hug you, Steve”

Steve, who had been trying to keep it all together, sniffled. He wasn’t going to cry if she wasn’t. He was supposed to be mad. He wrapped his arms around her, and buried his head in her shoulder.

Steve wanted to be angry, or he felt like he should be angry. Yet, he wasn’t, he was mad at them for making assumptions, for excluding him.

But, they were family. He’d been mad at them for as long he could, and then he’d taken to gray, blah, sadness. Not crying, but like trying to stave off a rainstorm. There was nothing he wanted to hear more than: we accept you.

It helped take the edge off. He could be mad about it later, take in all their forgiveness now.

“I’m really sorry, Steve, really, really, sorry” Robin said.

“We fucked up, Steve, I fucked up. I’m sorry too. I’m really sorry.” Eddie said.

“Now kiss,” Ian chimed in.

Steve laughed.

#Steve Harrington is Bisexual #Eddie is Gay #Stranger Things Fanfiction #Steve Harrington #I forgot the Steddie #I'm sorry #have some angst instead #I hope this makes yall sweaty #I was heated writing it #I might add Steddie but it won't be until 2026 probably #I have things i'm supposed to finish #I have updated a one of my wips in years #I want to finish it #also posted on ao3

[chimerickat]

For the trope question, interrupted kisses are always fun if a little frustrating !

Five times Seto Kaiba seems like he wants to kiss you, and the one time he kisses you.

Either keep reading below the cut, or on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43853316

One.

When you hear a knock on the front door of the store, you're ready to disappear into the backroom. The store is closed, and you’re just cleaning up for the night.

But then you glance at the door and see Seto Kaiba standing on the other side of the glass. He isn't just any customer so you hurry over to unlock the front door and let him in.

"Hi Kaiba. Yugi isn't here at the moment." You know he and Yugi are friendly, but Yugi is on a date. It's why he asked you to close up the shop for him.

"I'm aware." Kaiba stares down at you. "Yugi said I could still come by to pick up some new booster packs."

“Oh cool.” It would have been nice if Yugi had mentioned that plan to you. “Let me check if he has anything set aside for you.”

Kaiba follows you to the register. Underneath sit the special orders, but you don’t see anything with Kaiba’s name on it.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “I can try to text him if you want?”

He grunts and stares at you. After a moment, you assume that, yes, you should text Yugi.

“Kaiba is here after close expecting booster packs? Please help! I didn’t agree to this!!!”

After you hit send, you realize that you need to stand around waiting for Yugi to respond. “Are there any cards you’re looking for with the new boosters?”

Kaiba raises his eyebrow. “Why else would I bother buying them?”

“Right.” You sigh. “Well if you don’t want to participate in polite conversation, I’ve got a register to deal with.” You wave at the rest of the store. “Feel free to wait wherever.”

You ignore him, not wanting to see his reaction, as you open the cash drawer and begin to close for the night. The task requires your focus as normally Yugi or his Grandpa do the job, and you don’t want to screw it up. By the time you’re done, Kaiba is working at a table and Yugi has responded to your text.

"sorry!"

"told him i wouldnt be there"

"thought he wasnt going"

"just let him get w/e from back room"

Right. Well you can't be too mad at Yugi. His date tonight had been his focus. "Hey, Kaiba?" He looks up. "Yugi says you can collect your packs from the back room."

"Fine." His focus turns back to his laptop. He keeps typing. You wait for him to put his laptop away. He doesn't.

"You can pick out the booster packs now."

"I'll do it once I've finished this," he says without looking up.

You look at the time. Yugi absolutely owes you overtime, but you won't ever close the shop for him again. "Kaiba, I'm leaving. You can either let me unlock the storage room for you now, or you can hang out here and wait for Yugi."

He looks up and narrows his eyes. "I waited on you, and my time is worth significantly more than yours."

"Are you trying for insulting or a guilt trip? You can't do both."

He rolls his eyes. "I'm pointing out that you're being unreasonable."

You stare at him. The sheer audacity of Seto Kaiba calling you unreasonable has you shocked into silence. He wouldn't know reasonable behavior if it showed up in a Blue Eyes White Dragon car.

You are about to say as much to him, but he shuts his laptop and puts it back in his briefcase. Then he stands up and waves his hand forward, inviting you to lead the way.

You bite your lip and lead him to the back storage room. The new booster packs technically aren't supposed to launch until later in the week, but of course, Kame Game already has their shipment.

You look through boxes for the new boosters. Most of the boxes sitting out are already half-empty. Yugi restocked the floor this morning, and you intended to restock after close before Kaiba crashed the party.

"He must have put the boosters out of the way," you say. "Let me get the step ladder."

"I could still be working, but again, you're wasting my time."

"Next time, make sure you come when Yugi is here then." You pull the step ladder out from the closet and over to the main shelves. Then you start pulling the boxes out just enough to check their contents until you find one full of booster packs. "Got it!"

You hold the box with one hand and the shelf with the other as you ease yourself back to the ground. Then you hand the box out to him. "Okay, Yugi says take whatever you want."

He grabs a bunch of packs. "Add them to my tab." Then he lifts the box and places it back on the shelf.

"Show off," you mutter.

He smirks and looks down on you. He's already standing close, but he takes a step closer. "Next time, I'll be sure to come when Yugi isn't around."

You have to think twice about what he's saying before it clicks. Even then, it doesn't quite make sense. He leans toward you, still smirking.

Then one of the disturbed boxes tilts, and you watch as a bunch of action figures fall onto Kaiba's head. Some of them hit you as well, but he gets the majority of the damage.

He curses and storms out without looking your way.

Two.

When Kaiba walks into your favorite coffee shop as you're waiting for your drink, you wonder if you should pretend that you don't see him. You've replayed the moment in the storage room over and over, and you think he had been about to kiss you.

You're also sure that you're making it all up. Seto Kaiba would have no reason to kiss you. Especially not after you'd spent the whole time being rude to him.

He notices you before you can make up your mind. The moment his eyes meet yours, you know that you can't ignore him. You smile and wave. Then you turn back to the bar, hoping your drink will be ready soon.

Kaiba walks over to the bar, briefly speaks with the barista, and is presented his drink. Of course he orders ahead. You're not even surprised.

Then he approaches you instead of leaving.

"So you'll wait for a drink but not for me to finish my work."

"Waiting for your coffee is pretty standard practice for most people, Kaiba. We're not all important men who run the city like you are."

He raises an eyebrow. "The app to order ahead is available to everyone."

Right. Of course he used an app. You don't know why you thought his assistant called ahead to ensure his drink would be ready.

He smirks. "This isn't the way I imagined shutting you up, but it'll work for now."

Oh. He couldn't possibly mean...? You can feel the surprise showing on your face, but you can't help it.

Then you hear the barista calling out your name. You dart around Kaiba, grab your drink, and dash to the door. He doesn't move from his spot, and you don't look back as you leave the shop.

Three.

When Mai throws a party, she goes all out. It seems like everyone she knows is present, whether she likes them or not.

But still, you're surprised when Kaiba walks up behind you and puts one hand down on the bar. He's sideways so his body is facing you, and you worry that if you turn toward him, your shoulder will hit his chest. So you turn just your head. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Kujaku blackmailed me into coming." He gets the attention of the bartender and asks for a brand of beer that you've never heard of before. Then his attention shifts back to you. "She even had the audacity to demand an expensive birthday present."

You're intrigued. "What blackmail does Mai have on you?"

"Emotional." Then he changes the subject. "This party sucks. We should leave."

"Emotional blackmail?" You consider the words as you say them out loud. "Like she made you feel guilty about not wanting to come?" It was the trick she pulled on you. You frown. That just doesn't seem like Kaiba, but maybe he likes Mai more than you thought.

"No." He doesn't say anything further.

You turn on your barstool, ready to hop off in search of the birthday girl. Maybe she'll let you in on her secret blackmail.

Then Kaiba blocks you. "Where are you going?" he demands to know.

His hands lean on the bar on either side of you. You would have to duck underneath his arms to get away. Instead you put a hand on his chest, ready to push. "I was going to look for Mai?"

"So she can introduce you to someone?"

"What...?"

He's leaning forward on the bar. His face is close to yours. His blue eyes seem to be studying you. "Leave the party with me."

"Are you asking me to go home with you?" you blurt out before you can think about the words.

He's looking at your lips. You can tell he's looking at your lips. Then one of his hands comes up to cup your chin. "Yes."

"KAIBA! Give 'er some space."

Kaiba stands upright and spins around to face Jonouchi. "Mind your own business, mutt."

You slip off the barstool and disappear into the crowd, intent on avoiding their fight and finding Mai.

Four. 

You look up from your book to see Kaiba standing in front of you. He startles you. "Hey, Kaiba. Yugi is upstairs." 

"Hn." He steps closer to you and looks at your book. 

You pull the book closer to your body, keeping the cover out of sight. "It's just something Anzu loaned to me." That's true. She did loan it to you, insisting it was amazing. However, you don't want to defend your reading choices to Kaiba. You hope throwing Anzu's name into the mix will keep him quiet. 

"A treaty on friendship?" 

You stare at him for a moment, trying to understand... then you realize he's making a joke. You smile. "I think she saves all of her friendship pamphlets for you."

He raises an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware she wanted my friendship."

"She probably doesn't." You shrug. It's no secret that Anzu is one snarky comment away from trying to deck Kaiba. "But you and Yugi are friends so I'm sure she'd like to get along." 

"What about you?" He's suddenly in your space, leaning on the chair you're sitting in. His eyes lock onto yours.

You look for an escape, but short of sliding down between his legs, you have nowhere to go. "What about me?" 

"What kind of relationship do you want with me?" 

It's a bold question. You can hear Mai in the back of your head, saying he likes you. She said the only reason he came to her party was to be sure she didn't set you up with someone. Yugi even mentioned that Kaiba talked about you more than anyone else. 

And now he's leaning down like he's going to kiss you. 

"Hey, Kaiba--WHOOPS!" 

Kaiba steps back at Yugi's shout. You take that opportunity to stand up from the chair and back away. 

Yugi's face reddens as he looks between the two of you. "Did I interrupt?" 

"No," you say before Yugi can finish, before Kaiba can say anything himself. Then you hurry away for the backroom. You can pretend to be busy there. 

Five.

As you push open the front door for Kame Game, you feel the chilly night air rush past you. Yugi keeps the shop warm and comforting so it's an unpleasant surprise. You step out of the shop, wishing you had warmer clothing. You keep forgetting to bring a jacket for your evening walk home, and you know you'll be freezing by the time your bus arrives.

Still, you carry on to the bus stop. If you wait inside the shop, you run the risk of missing the bus if it shows up early. As much as you like Yugi, you don't want to hang around waiting for another bus if you miss your usual line.

At the stop, you try to curl into yourself as much as possible to keep warm. It doesn't work.

Then a car pulls up to the stop. The windows are tinted so you can't see who is inside, and thoughts of kidnapping rush through your brain. Do you have a weapon on you? Can you just run back to the game shop?

The window rolls down. Kaiba is alone in the car. "Get in," he says.

It's late and cold. Kaiba isn't a stranger. You don't waste time pretending to protest. You pull open the passenger door and get into his car. "Thanks for the ride home."

"We're having dinner first," he says as the car pulls away from the curb.

"Generally you ask people to go on dates with you. I think abducting them off the street is frowned on."

He frowns. "You willingly got into my car."

"I think it made sense to assume you were driving me home."

"Well I'm driving you to my home."

Your eyes narrow. "I thought you said we were going to have dinner?"

"Yes, in the privacy of my home, with the best chef in the city."

The car stays silent. You study Kaiba while he drives. He glances over and catches you staring. You try not to look away even as you feel your face warm up. He doesn't comment on it and focuses back on the road ahead.

When he pulls up to his mansion, he stops his car in front of the entrance. After he turns the engine off, he reaches for his seatbelt. You put your hand on his, getting his attention. "How long have you wanted to ask me out?" You're teasing him. He deserves it for not properly asking you on a date. "Please tell me you haven't been stalking me, waiting for a chance to lure me into your car."

"Of course not!" He pulls away from you and gets out of the car. You push open your door and get out.

"What if I'm already seeing someone?"

He glares as he approaches you. "Are you?"

"No." You shrug. "I'm just pointing out that you haven't asked me out yet so you're making a lot of assumptions here."

He cups your face with his hands. "No. I don't think I am." Then he leans down to kiss you.

"Seto!" He pulls away with a groan. Then he turns to face the building. Mokuba bounces down the stairs toward the two of you. His long hair is tied up in a ponytail and he's wearing an oversized sweatshirt.

He stops with a grin. "I see you've finally brought your girlfriend over."

"I'm not his girlfriend."

"You are," Kaiba corrects.

"That's news to me. Since when?"

Kaiba glares at the ground for a moment while Mokuba tries to hide his grin behind his hand. "Since right now."

"We'll see." You smile at Mokuba. "Do I get a tour?"

So Mokuba leads you on a tour of the mansion. He shows off the movie theater and game rooms, clearly his favorite rooms, but also the massive kitchen and library. Then he insists on sitting next to you at the dining room table.

Dinner turns into more of a hang out with Mokuba rather than a date with Kaiba. Kaiba doesn't say much and allows Mokuba to interrogate you.

"Mokuba, isn't it your bedtime?" Kaiba says once the table is cleared.

"I don't have a bedtime!"

Kaiba glares at his brother. "Tonight you do."

Mokuba rolls his eyes. "You can just tell me you want to be alone with your girlfriend."

"Just go to bed."

You interrupt their argument. "Actually, I need to get home." Kaiba never said he would drive you home, but you hope he intends to help you get there. His mansion is too removed from the city for public transport to be an easy option this time of night.

"I'll take you." Kaiba stands and offers you his hand. You take it as you stand as well. 

As you say goodbye to Mokuba, he smirks, looking just like his brother. "Don't let my brother sleep over. He's a bed hog." 

"MOKUBA!" Kaiba grabs your hand and tugs you out of the dining room. He mutters something about his brother being grounded, but you're too shocked to catch his exact words. 

Once the two of you make it back to his car, he opens the door for you and waits for you to get in before closing it and walking around to the other side. He gets in the car and starts the engine. As he speeds out of the mansion grounds, you wonder if his staff has ever failed to open the gates in time. 

Then you wonder exactly what he's said about you to his brother. "You know, you still haven't asked me to go out with you or date you or anything." 

He frowns. "Fine. You're free to object to dating at any point." 

Your eyes narrow. What is his objection to asking questions? "Fine. I object." 

The look he shoots you is offended and shocked. As if he can't fathom anyone objecting. 

"We've never even kissed," you point out. "Tonight really doesn't even count as a date." If he's going to be difficult, then you can be difficult too. 

He grits his teeth. Then he pulls over and the car jerks to a stop. For a moment, you think it's because of what you've said. Then you realize he's just pulling up to your place. 

When did you give him your address? You must have at some point. 

He opens the door for you and helps you out of the car. He holds your hand as he slams the car door shut. 

Then he pins you against his car. Your back is against the car door. His body presses against yours. One hand holds your head while the other slides down your side until it reaches your hip. 

He kisses you. His lips press against yours, and he controls the angle by adjusting your head with his hand. 

He pulls away with a smirk. "Now we've kissed, and tomorrow night, I'll take you out." 

He walks you to your door. You have your key in the lock before you realize he still hasn't asked you anything. You turn to see him walking back to his car. "I never agreed to anything!" 

"I'll still be back tomorrow." 

Then he gets in his car. He starts the engine, and you expect him to drive off, but he just sits there and waits. 

You realize he's waiting for you to get inside before he leaves. Just like a boyfriend. 

#seto kaiba #kaiba seto #seto kaiba x reader #seto kaiba reader insert #kaibaxreader #dragonsilk #reader insert #also posted on ao3 #I'm sick so any issues I blame on that

[bijoumikhawal]

Hebitian Language: terms for family

(Disclaimer: I'm not good at conlangs, so this is more vocabulary than anything else)

Let's look at three Hebitian languages here! The majority langusges of the Alåsh, the Thav, and the Qåmtsu. The Alåsh are from the somewhat isolated Valley of the Hebitians, the Thav from the similarly isolated northern regions of the Helta Highlands, and the Qåmtsu from the delta and hills near Lakarian City and Central City. The Alåsh and Thav are interesting because they're traditionally considered "conservative" cultures, having less cultural exchanges with other groups and the Thav being prideful in this regard, and the Qåmtsu having had good and bad relations with Cardassians for a long time. The Alåsh had relations with the Anìjb’èawa /ˈanɪʄˈɓɛɔa/, who lived on the coast north of the Valley, as well as the minor Hebitian groups in the delta north of the Valley and their neighbors. Their language is thought to be the "oldest", or closest to any idea of proto-Hebitian, which has lead to faulty academic study.

As a general rule, Hebitians family terms are broader than Cardassian terms, which are more specific. The word for grandmother and mother are the same, and aunts may be called the same word as well. The most accurate definitions are:

Older female relative - Alåsh: Adzi̊ /aʣɨ/, Thav: Assai̊ /assaɨ/, Qåmtsu: Atzú /aʦy/.

Older male relative - Alåsh: Datsa /'daʦa/, Thav: Dassa /ˈdassa/, Qåmtsu: Dai̊ss /'dɑɨss/.

Older Relative - Alåsh: Påhmú /ˈʙɑhmy/, Qåmtsu: Vahm̂m̂ad /ⱱahɱɱad/.

Older female relatives not directly related to you (i.e. not your parents or their parents) - the Qåmtsu have a word for this concept, but the Alåsh do not. For the Qåmtsu this is shoad /ʃoad/. The Thav typically do not refer to female relatives this way, possibly because their bias is in favor of women. If they do, the Qåmtsu word is borrowed in.

Older male relatives not directly related to you (i.e. not your parents or their parents) - the Thav and the Qåmtsu have a word for this concept, but the Alåsh do not. For the Thav this is shop /ʃoʙ/, and the Qåmtsu, shov /ʃoⱱ/. This was borrowed from the Qåmtsu by the Åv first, who passed it north.

Older relative not directly related to you - only a feature in Qåmtsu, the Thav historically being uncomfortable with gender variance. Pumyad /ˈʙumjad/.

Fem. Relative of the same generation (i.e. siblings, spouses, cousins) - Alåsh: Mai̊dú /maɨdy/, Thav: Måpåp /mɑʙɑʙ/, Qåmtsu: Mavi̊ad /maⱱɨad/.

M. Relative of the same generation - Alåsh: fúi̊ /fyɨ/, Thav: ifúla /ɵˈfyɫa/, Qåmtsu: i̊úyi̊ /ɨyjɨ/

N. Relative of the same generation - Alåsh: dåĝú /dɑɣy/, Qåmtsu: doåyi̊å /doˈɑjɨɑ/

Spouse, partner, lover- sometimes used in conjunction with the previous 3 terms also being used. In Thav, this is related to the word for ink, tús /tys/, with a feminine or masculine affix as appropriate. In Alåsh and Qåmtsu this is related to the word for braided cord, and is a neuter gendered word. Alåsh: huri /huʀɵ /, Thav: Yatús /jatys/, Qåmtsu: gůlti /ˈgʌɫtɨ/

Fem. Relative of a younger generation - Alåsh: åmo /ɑmo/, Thav: om̂oj /oɱoy/, Qåmtsu: åmmush /ɑmmuʃ/

M. Relative of a younger generation - Alåsh: khi̊ng /χɨŋ/, Thav: qi̊q /qɨq/, Qåmtsu: khi̊q /χɨq/

N. Relative of a younger generation - Alåsh: i̊vyå /ɨvjɑ/, Qåmtsu: i̊úy /ɨyj/

Your daughter- only a feature in Thav. Other Hebitian languages would use the appropriate possessive paired with the appropriate word for a relative of a younger generation. (Many Hebitian languages have a word meaning "my (belonging to an individual)" and a different word meaning "my (belonging to a group the speaker belongs to, such as a family, village, city, etc). Dzův /ʣʌv/

Your son- see above. Shmo /ʃmo/ 

Relative more than two generations removed from you (great grandparents and on), ancestor- Alåsh: umi̊yång /ˈumɨjɑŋ/, Thav: omi̊yån /omɨjɑn/, Qåmtsu: um̂m̂uyång/'uɱɱujɑŋ/.

These are not the only terms for family or other persons in society.

Hag, Auntie, old woman, nursemaid, midwife- thanks to Cardassian records, this word is often translated as hag, which does match to how it's used when said derogatorily, but in intention is more often used as a somewhat affectionate title for an older woman who is not necessarily related to you. Laad /ɫaad/ in Qåmtsu, Loådú /ɫoɑdy/ in Alåsh, Låp /ɫɑʙ/ in Thav.

The above has been very incorrectly translated as wet nurse in Vulcan studies of Hebitian culture in an attempt to convey the idea of a particular relationship between adults who share in parenting a child without adopting them, being closely related to one of the parents, or marriage to one of the child's parents, known in Hebitian as håmdafi̊ /hɑmˈdafɨ/. Nursemaid is an alternative to this, but wrongly implies this relationship is always transactional- traditionally, this is an intimate relationship, almost like a godparent. That translation is rarely used in the Federation and carries incorrect connotations. It could be somewhat transactional, such as in Hebitian aristocratic families, but this relationship always conferred kinship rights and expectations onto the "outside" party being brought in, not just between them and the child, but the rest of the family too. A newer translation is "nest warmer", as one of the duties in early child care is keeping the infant close to you near constantly until their thermoregulation develops fully, and even after this many children find cosleeping and extensive body contact comforting. This term is still not without controversy: Hebitians on Vulcan have criticized it as likening them to animals, bluntly pointing out they sleep in beds, not nests. The Hebitian preference- among those who speak on it publicly- is to leave the word untranslated with an explanation, with discussion of similar relationships, but to not try to replace the word with words describing those relationships.

Cardassians have a similar concept, but the relationship is entirely between the adult and the child they care for, typically a partnered couple, and less commonly a single woman, and even less commonly, a single man. By contrast, no particular tendency of this sort was implied in many Hebitian permutations of this practice.

Guy, Uncle, "male auntie", old man, nanny- see above, though the derogatory translation was "male auntie" in Cardassian because of different perceptions regarding gender (Cardassians still putting high value on there being a hard distinction). Lodi̊ng /ˈɫodɨŋ/ in Alåsh, Mi̊or /mɨoʀ/ in Thav, Lov /ɫoⱱ/ in Qåmtsu.

Guy, older person- neuter of former two terms. These three terms are usually used by the children to refer to the adult in the case of the nursemaid/godparent/etc relationship. Adults in that relationship may use these terms for the other person, or may use "relative of the same generation" + an affectionate suffix, much like one might for a spouse. Suffice to say, it's a relationship not neatly described as platonic, romantic, or anything else. Lasi̊m /ˈɫasɨm/ in Alåsh, Låtzi̊ú /ɫɑʦɨy/ in Qåmtsu.

Unserious partner, person you're having sex with, the partner you have before you're really mature: adzu /aʣu/ in Alåsh, madzol /maʣoɫ/ in Thav, atzúa /aʦya/ in Qåmtsu.

#cipher talk #ds9 #Hebitian #Hebetian #ASIT #My world building #Also posted on ao3

[auduux]

Under Stars And Plum Blossoms

Hand in hand they lay under stars and plum blossoms. It had been many years since Macaque had last visited the Sage's mountain. He never wanted to see it again--it was filled with too hurtful of memories to bare. Yet here he was, laying in the grass under the same trees that still only bring agony at the sight, five fingers interlocked with five in turn.

It had only been recently that Wukong was able to convince Macaque to trust him again, a fragile thing that somehow turned into this just two months later. Though, they never were ones to follow the rules, including their own. With the newfound trust came other emotions--older emotions. Ones Macaque had locked away long ago, deep in his heart so they may never resurface. But he was always weak against the sage, after all.

The soft snoring emitting from beside the demon only made his thoughts falter slightly. Wukong had invited him, for whatever reason, to a "picnic". By "picnic" Wukong had meant simply laying the grass and talking. Neither of them noticed how fast time slipped away and soon the sage was asleep, hand interlocked with Macaques. He did want to move, to leave, but he didn't. He didn't want to leave Wukong alone or risk waking him to move him, so he stayed, wide awake.

The demon didn't sleep much after all.

The sage rolled over, closer to Macaque, after the thought. They were now nuzzled perfectly against his side, face quickly buried in the crook of his neck with a content sigh. The movement startled the demon but not by enough, turning his head for a better angle and placing the hand that was once being held around the other's waist. He closed his eyes after, drifting away to the same place Wukong was in.

The demon didn't dream much after all.

#shadowpeach #lego monkie kid #no i have not reached my peak of dumbassery #writing #fluff #short and sweet #also posted on ao3 #what am i doing

[herdreamywasteland]

“I raised my son to the best of my ability and he repays me by ignoring me!”

Really?

To the best of your ability?

your DAUGHTER doesn’t talk to you because she’s having thanksgiving at my house and my family is calling her by her name, not the one you chose for her.

your DAUGHTER is playing with my dog and teaching my sister to dance, laughing as her skirt swirls around her beautifully strong legs.

your DAUGHTER is sitting on my bed and im holding her against my chest as I kiss away her tears, the tears she sheds for YOU.

the tears you don’t deserve.

you don’t deserve ANYTHING from her.

She was NEVER your son.

#trans #lgbtqia #queer #poems on tumblr #love poem for trans women #also posted on ao3 #@jj_whats_her_face

[vintagefuckk]

Dicked Down by the DM

This is literally my FIRST TIME EVER writing so pls be kind but also let me know about any mistakes I made. I <3 Constructive criticism

Pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Synopsis: Reader is acting like a little brat and Eddie reminds her where her place is.

Word Count: 5.1K and some change

cw: cursing, drug deals, people doing drugs, spanking, spanking with a belt, face fucking, edging, overstimulation, crying, reader is a little shit, dom!eddie, brat!reader, dom/sub undertones, SEX, piv unprotected sex (don't be a fool, cover your tool), aftercare (OFC)

!! 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI !!

---

You loved pushing Eddie’s buttons. You loved how Eddie’s normal soft-dom demeanor changed to something harder, or primal. You liked to not just know, but feel his strength over you, make him work for your submission. Tonight was no different.

It was a lovely warm summer night; you and Eddie were at one of Steve’s parties. His father was out of town on a business trip and his mother, the untrusting woman she was, accompanied him. Music was blasting throughout the house, the bass starting to make your head hurt. Eddie was here to sell weed to some high schoolers and you decided to tag along. But it was getting late, and you wanted to go back home. 

“Eddie,” you said bringing his hand to your lips to kiss the back. “I’m tired. Let’s go home.”

He barely glanced at you. “Just a second, babe. I wanna score a few more deals before we go. Give me another hour.”

You sighed softly and kissed him on the cheek. “Okay. I’m going to say hi to some friends, then.” Releasing your grip on his hand, you turn to walk away and find Robin when his grip tightens and pulls you back to him. 

“Ahem,” You look at your intertwined hands and then back up to his eyes, confusion written on your face. “Forgetting something sweetheart?” 

You notice his eyes flicker down to your lips before finding yours again. Realizing he wanted a kiss you quickly peck him on the lips and smile. He smiles back and lets go of your hand, turning his attention to the crowd to find his next customer. 

You smile softly and go back to your previous task of finding Robin, walking away from Eddie.

---

It’s been over an hour. Eddie looks like he’s no closer to leaving than he did before. Walking back over to him, you grab his hand and with it, his attention. “Eddie it’s been over an hour. Can we go?”

His eyes don’t meet yours, instead, he’s looking somewhere over your shoulder. Following his line of sight, you find that he’s spotted another customer. 

“Just a sec, babe.” He says letting go of your hand and walking over to him. 

Your lips upturn into a pout and you cross your arms, staring at Eddie as he laughs at what was undoubtedly one of his jokes. An idea pops into your head. Smirking at the thought of your mischievous plan you uncross your arms and saunter to him, ready to put the plan into action.

Walking up behind him you wrap your arms around his waist and rest your head on his shoulder, looking at the kid he’s talking to. He hardly glanced at you before returning to his deal.

The kid, nervous as all hell, quickly hands him a twenty and takes the baggie from Eddie, quickly shoving it into his pocket. He forces out a quick “Thanks.” and rushes off in the other direction.

Eddie turns in your arms with a big toothy grin. “I’ve made about 200 bucks tonight!” His eyes sweep the room. “Speaking of, I’m about to make some more.” He says as his eyes land on his next victim. 

He lets go of your waist, expecting you to do the same, but you don’t. If anything, your grip gets tighter. 

“Babe? You gotta let me go.” He chuckles. You pretend to think for a moment, going as far as to look up at the ceiling and hum. Your eyes find his again before you give him your answer.

“No.”

“I’m sorry, babe, what was that?”

“I said,” You moved your lips close to his ear. “no, Daddy.”

You watched as his eyes darkened. “Oh?” he asked.

Letting go of him you shrug noncommittedly and turned to walk away, purposely moving your hips side to side in the way he liked. It wasn’t long before he caught up with you, his turn to wrap his arms around you trapping you where you stood and making you squeak in surprise. He turned you around and looked into your eyes. You quickly averted your gaze, looking anywhere but his face knowing it riles him up. 

Eddie grabbed your chin. “Eyes on me sweetheart,” It took a second but eventually your eyes landed on his. “There we go, baby. Your pretty eyes on mine..” He let go of your face and instead brushed a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “You wanna repeat what you said earlier?”

“Uhh no, thanks for asking though.” You tell him with a smirk. 

“Is that how you wanna play tonight?” 

Feeling very bold, you rolled your eyes at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You turned away from him and attempted to walk off, but Eddie quickly grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to him. You looked down at his hand and then back up at his eyes.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, sweetheart,” Eddie whispered in your ear and placed a kiss on the shell. 

Your hands found his waist and started rubbing circles on his sides. You slowly move your hands lower and reached his ass. “What are you going to do about it?” you asked breathily. Both hands let go of him, one returning to his waist and the other leaving for just a second before bringing it back down and landing a firm smack on his ass.

Before he could process what you did, you wiggled out of his grip and traipsed to the dance floor. Turning around, you find Eddie’s eyes and began to dance provocatively, trying to seduce him. You move your hands up and down your body, over your breasts, and pushed them together. Your hips swayed side by side to the rhythm. Eddie looked unamused. You turn so your back is facing him and start shaking your ass for everyone to see. When you turned back around Eddie was gone. You skimmed the crowd looking for the mop of messy curly hair or his signature jean jacket, but he was nowhere to be found. 

Suddenly, you feel someone’s hand cup the back of your neck and breathe on your shoulder. “Looking for someone?” It was Eddie. You take in a sharp breath as his hand on your neck grew tighter. “I think it’s time we go home.”

“It took you long enough.” You huff sassily.

The hand on your neck squeezed tighter for a fraction before moving and grabbing your arm, Eddie dragging you outside and to his van. “I think someone needs a lesson on how to behave when we’re in public.” He growls in your ear. He opened the passenger door and helped you get settled in your seat before buckling you in and shutting the door. He got into the driver’s seat and started the engine. 

---

The drive back to the trailer was silent. Neither you nor Eddie said a word or turned on the radio. Wayne wasn’t home, he just started working the graveyard shift at his new job. He wouldn’t be back until the early hours of the morning.

Eddie parked the van in his usual spot but didn’t make a move to leave. Instead, he turned to you. “I want you to go in there and get ready for me. Strip and sit on the bed and wait. I’ll be there shortly.” 

You nodded your head and made a move to grab the door handle. Before you could even wrap your fingers around the handle, Eddie was quick to grab your hair to stop you. He used your hair to turn your head to him. 

“Words, darling.” He looked into your eyes. 

The bratty attitude had you in a chokehold. Instead of responding with respect you grit out “Bite me.” 

Eddie’s fist tightened in your hair and his other hand came up and grabbed your throat with such speed you couldn’t even process it before you felt it. “You wanna repeat that?”

“I said, bite. me.” You stare into his eyes, a silent challenge.

Eddie, now having a firm grip on your throat, let go of your hair just to bring his hand down across your face. The sound echoed against the metal walls of the van and brought tears to your eyes. “Try again.”

“Yes Daddy,” You mumbled softly.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought you said.” He gave you a quick peck on your lips and released your throat and hair. He pointed to the house. “Go. Now.” He demanded. 

You scramble to get out of the seat and into the trailer as quickly as possible to avoid agitating him further. You darted to his room, quick to pull off your clothes in the process, clutching them in your hand before dumping them on the floor of his bedroom. Once you got naked you hopped on the bed, lied down, and settled yourself in the middle. Eddie loved to make you wait, it always made you more desperate. You fidgeted with your fingers, anxiously waiting for him to come in too. You heard the door open and slam shut, sending shivers down your spine, but Eddie didn’t immediately walk into the bedroom. You hear the fridge door open and close and the silent ‘pshh’ of a bottle opening. 

After waiting for what seemed like ages but was probably only a few minutes, Eddie walked in, a bottle of root beer in his hand. He never got drunk before a scene, he was a firm believer in being completely sober because if you’re not sober you can’t consent properly. He takes in your naked form, eyes lingering for a few seconds on your glistening pussy, before looking back up at your eyes. 

“So,” He starts. “You thought it was a good idea to act like a brat tonight.” He takes a swig from his bottle. “Do you have anything to say before we begin?”

“Nope, but thanks for asking.” You smirk and stare into his eyes, silently daring him to do something about your attitude.

“Alright, honey,” he said as he stalked to the bed slowly, his voice became sickeningly sweet. He set his drink down on the desk and sat on the edge of the bed next to you. “You just let me know when you change your mind, ‘kay?”

“I can assure you I will not be changing my- umph!” He cut you off, manhandling you over his lap. “Lucky for you, I know how to put brats in their place.” He smirks. His rough hands were slowly rubbing the soft skin of your ass cheeks.

You look at him over your shoulder and narrow your eyes. “Do your worst, bitch.” You bite out. That was a big no-no in your relationship. Eddie tolerated your cursing outside of the bedroom, but once you were his in the bedroom his attitude to foul language quickly changed. His eyes darkened dangerously.

“What are your colors?” Eddie asked, breaking out of his dominant mindset briefly.

“Green and yellow.”

“Good girl. And if you need me to stop?”

“Metallica or red.”

“Perfect.” He stopped rubbing circles on your flesh, taking his hand away. Letting his dominant headspace slide back in place, he dragged his right hand gently up your back, making you shiver with excitement. His hand slid up the back of your neck and head, grabbing a fistful of hair. Using your hair as a handle he pulled your head back so he could look into your eyes.

“Alright sweetheart. Just remember, you asked for this,” he reminded you gently. His hand let go of your hair. Eddie brought his hand down on your left ass cheek, the sound reverberating against the walls. You whimper as he squeezed the flesh his hand landed before giving the other cheek the same treatment. He rained down strikes of various strengths. You loved being over his knee like this, loved the pain from his hand, loved the fact that you wouldn’t be able to sit comfortably for a few days. Something about it turned you on an unbelievable amount. After a particularly harsh smack, you let a whine slip out from your throat. Eddie’s hand paused its abuse. He let his hand run over the pinkened skin making you hiss softly.

“You done bein’ a brat?” 

“That depends, you done hitting like a bitch?”

“Okay honey, I hear you.” Eddie chuckles softly. He knew to take your words with a grain of salt. He knew the reason behind you bratting out so violently. You just like to make sure that the one you love isn’t going to leave you, that he won’t just up and leave because he got bored or found a better opportunity somewhere else. In fact, you knew Eddie wouldn’t take actual offense to your words. He would give you what you needed, and he would show you physically that he wasn’t going anywhere, that he was there to stay. Forever.

His hand moved down to your pussy, running a finger up and down your slit. “You’re wet baby. Is this for me?” You kept your mouth shut but he kept talking. “You enjoying your punishment that much, darling?” When you still didn’t answer he sighed, giving up.

He gently patted your ass, a silent command to stand up. As you steadied yourself on your feet, your eyes searched Eddie’s, tilting your head to the side, perplexed. Eddie noticed and stood up with you.

“Aw honey, you didn’t think I was done did you?” His hands went to his waist. “No. I just think I need some extra help to make sure you remember your place.” His hands start fumbling with his belt, unbuckling it, and pulling it from the loops in one smooth motion. He gestured to the bed.

“Go ahead and bend over for me, darling.”

You stared at his face, ready for him to call his bluff. After a few seconds of him not saying anything, you speak up. “You’re joking, right?”

“Not at all, baby. Not unless you have something to say to me?” Metallica. You take one last glance at his face and sigh, surrendering to your fate. You shook your head and lay yourself over the edge of the bed. Besides, momma ain’t raised no bitch. You bend over and grab a pillow placing it under your hips. It wasn’t the first time you ended up here and you knew for a fact it wouldn’t be the last.

“I want you to count for me, baby,” Eddie murmured as he ran his hand over your sensitive skin. “I want you to thank me after each one. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, hiding your face in the sheets. You curl your fingers into the fabric, waiting for Eddie to begin. Eddie makes a tutting sound behind you and pinches the pinkest part of your ass. It caught you completely off guard and your head jerked up, a loud yelp escaping your lips.

“Wha- Eddie! Oww!” you whined.

“’m only gonna tell you one more time darling. Use. Your. Words.” His fingers dug into your flesh harder after each word, enunciating them. 

“Yes, daddy! ‘m sorry!” you cry out quickly.

“Good girl. I’m thinking ten.” He let go of your ass and stepped away. Staying still and quiet. You were about to look behind you, just to make sure he didn’t leave the room when he let the belt strike your ass. It took you by surprise and you cry out loudly.

“You seem to be forgetting something sweetheart,” Eddie warned and let another strike come down. “Whadaya say?”

You whine and let out a soft “One, thank you, daddy.” He didn’t even let you catch your breath before letting the next one fall. “Two, thank you, Daddy.” The next 2 strikes fall in the same manner. By the fifth strike, you feel tears start to form in your eyes. Eddie pauses for a second, letting his hand smooth over the smarting skin. 

“Color?” he whispers softly, checking in.

“’m still green, sir” you sniffle.

“Alright baby, you’re halfway done. Only five more to go. You can do that for me, right sweetheart?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl.”

Number six comes down harder than the rest. Eddie always went harder in the last couple of strokes. You were prepared for it, but it still forced a whimper out of your throat and made you stand on your toes. The tears in your eyes began to overflow. “S-six. Thank you, sir.” Your body goes rigid, waiting for the next stroke. It didn’t come. You felt your body begin to relax and that’s when Eddie landed the next blow. Your body went stiff, and you stomped your foot to deal with the pain. Tears started to stream down your face, and you choked out a sob before counting it. 

“Three more baby. You can do it.” Eddie reassured you.

Strike eight landed, the hardest strike of them yet. You were full-out sobbing at this point, throwing a hand back to stop the next blow from landing.

“Baby, you know better. Move your hand so Daddy doesn’t hurt your pretty fingers.”

You whine in protest but still moved your hand back to the sheets, tangling your fingers and holding on tightly. “I’m sorry.” You sniffled. He ran his hand up your back, pausing a second to soothe you.

“It’s alright baby. What strike was that?”

“E-eight. Thank you, daddy.”

“Good girl.” He set his hand down at the small of your back, pinning you to the bed. You felt your heart drop. Eddie never put his hand on your back when he was punishing you, not unless-

Number nine landed, and you let out a small scream, going limp over the bed and sobbing into your arms. “Nine..” you barely let out before the tenth and final stroke landed. “Ten! Ten, daddy!” You shakily inhale and thank him. You heard Eddie drop his belt to the floor, the buckle making a soft thumping sound against the carpet. Eddie quickly scooped you up in his arms and laid on the bed, making you straddle his hips and curl up on his chest, so you don’t have to put any weight on your blistered ass. 

He ran his fingers through your hair and softly said in your ear “Shhh baby. You did so well, made me so proud.” He kissed the top of your head. “It’s over now baby, you’re amazing, my beautiful, good girl.” His other arm was wrapped around you, hand rubbing up and down your back.

---

When you cry all you could and you’ve had a second to calm down completely, you start feeling antsy. There was just something in the way Eddie took you down that turned you on so much. Eddie and his belt sparked a fire in you, flames blazing. Your mind started drifting to his hands and him holding his belt. You felt yourself begin to grow wet and started to squirm in Eddie’s arms.

Eddie noticed and he smirked. “You okay, baby? Something bothering you?”

You whine against his neck and start to kiss the sensitive flesh, using your teeth to nip, coloring the skin. Your hips ground down against his, trying desperately to get him to take the hint. You wanted him and you wanted him now.

“Daddyyyy,” You look him in the eyes and give him your best impression of puppy dog eyes.

Eddie smiled down at you. “Yes, darling?”

“Can we- um.”

“Can we what baby? You gotta use your words.” He was teasing you. He knew exactly what you wanted. He ground his hips up into yours, his scratchy jeans stimulating your aching core. You let out a wanton moan and start humping against Eddie’s groin. His hands quickly went to your hips, stilling them and tutting softly.

“Now, now, baby. Is that any way to ask for things you want?” You whine at his words and hide your face in his shirt. “Hm. If you’re not going to voice what you want, I will.” His hands rub over your thighs and his eyes find yours. “I want you to get on your pretty little knees for me.”

Eager to please him, you scramble off Eddie and the bed and kneel on the floor. Your ass makes contact with your heels and you wince, face curling up in discomfort. Eddie sits at the edge of the bed and looks down at you, chuckling at the face you made. His hand comes up to caress your cheek and he looks into your eyes. “Go ahead and get my cock out.”

Your hands reach up to the button in Eddie’s ripped skinny jeans, fumbling to get it undone. After it finally pops free, you make quick work of the zipper and Eddie stands for a second so you can pull his jeans and boxers. He sits back down and his hands take off his shirt, tossing it on the floor somewhere behind you. 

Your mouth starts watering at the sight of Eddie’s cock. No matter how many times you see it, it never fails to startle you. It’s thick and heavy, it curves up slightly, and it stares you down. You giggle as a strange thought popped into your head but quickly school your expression when Eddie looks down at you.

“What’s so funny, babe?” he asks, genuinely confused.

“This,” you say as you grab his erection, making Eddie inhale sharply. “is a knick-knack you paddy whack before you give the dog a moan.”

Eddie just stares at you. You think you could even hear the gears turning in his head as he tried to process what the fuck you just said. He starts to laugh, and I mean laugh. Hysterically. The laughter comes from his chest, making his entire body shake and he throws his head back cackling. He lets his body fall backward and he lays there trying to get his breath back from his laughing fit. 

You take the opportunity to put his tip in your mouth, sucking harshly. Eddie lets out a loud moan, his fingers tangling themselves in your hair while he bucks his hips into your mouth. 

You use one of your hands to wrap around his base, stroking what didn’t fit in your mouth. Your tongue swirled around his length.

“Lemme fuck your face.” Eddie huffs out. You let go of his cock and place your hands on his thighs. You relax your throat and look up at him through your lashes. The sight of you makes him groan deeply. His hands grab a hold of your face and start a slow and shallow pace. 

“Good girl. Good fucking girl.” He groans, pace speeding up. With every thrust in, his cock slid deeper. Your gag reflex was next to zero, Eddie made sure of that. He put a lot of hours into training your throat to take him whole and it wasn’t long before his hips were smashing against your face. You were breathing shallowly through your nose and every so often you would hum, sending vibrations from your throat through Eddie’s dick, making him shiver. He threw his head back and moaned wantonly at the ceiling.

His head tilted back down and his eyes found yours. Something in his eyes glimmers and pulls out of your mouth without a warning. “’m getting too close. When I cum, it’ll be deep in your pussy, not down your throat.” He grabs you by the throat and hauls you up on the bed, tossing you on your back. His hand grabbed your hair, wrenching your head back as he breathed in your ear. “’m gonna fuck you so hard that the only thing you know is my name and my cock. ‘m gonna fuck you stupid sweetheart.”

You moan and arch your back, spreading your legs, giving him full access to your mound. “Do it. Claim my pussy. Fill me up, I need it please!” you whine. Eddie’s fingers stroke over your slit. “Damn, baby. You’re fucking soaking. Who made you this wet?” Two of his fingers sink into your slit, immediately finding your sweet spot and pounding relentlessly. You throw your head back and cry out, eyes shutting as you finally feel some relief for your aching pussy.

When you don’t give him an answer he slides his fingers out. You whine at the loss and open your eyes to look at him. He brings his hand down on your cunt, the unexpected pain makes you tightly close your legs, and you yelp.

“I asked you a question little girl..” he growls and forces your legs back open.

“It’s you! You make me this wet Daddy!” You cry out. His fingers swiftly enter you again, curling into the perfect spot. Your mouth opens in a silent scream, and you feel yourself start to get close

“Daddy, can I cum?”

“Open your eyes and ask me again.”

Your legs start shaking and you feel that knot in your stomach grow. You quickly open your eyes and stare into his chocolate-brown eyes. “Can I please cum?” You ask desperately, feeling so close to the edge already. 

“No,” Eddie tells you cruelly. You clench hard around his fingers and your breath starts to pick up, telltale signs that mean you’re about to fly over the edge regardless of his denial. You feel yourself get closer, feel that ever-growing knot about to snap when he pulls his fingers out, effectively stopping your release. 

He climbed on the bed between your thighs and flipped you over on your stomach. He wasted no time in lining his cock up with your weeping hole. The tip barely brushed against your slit before Eddie starts pushing in, not slowing down or stopping until he was fully seated in you.

You throw your head back with a high-pitched cry.

“That’s right, slut. Scream for me.” His hips began a fast and punishing pace, his hands grab yours and traps them behind your back, using it as leverage to fuck into you harder. You keen, feeling Eddie’s hips slap against your already bruised ass. The pain doesn’t swerve you away from an orgasm. If anything, it forces you closer.

“Eddie-” you gasp. A hand falls hard on your backside and you cry out louder than before. 

“What’s my name, baby?”

“Edd-” His hand falls on your ass again forcing a whimper from your throat.

“What’s my name?” 

It dawns on you what he’s talking about and you’re quick to cry out.

“Daddy!”

“That’s right, babygirl.” He pulls out of you, causing you to whine, and flips you on your back. Before you have time to process what he’s doing, his hard cock enters you again. One of his hands runs up your body, gently playing with a nipple. His head comes down and puts the other nipple in his mouth, gently biting down on it. You feel so overwhelmed all at once, you can feel your orgasm approaching, and approaching fast. 

“Daddy! I’m gonna cum!”

Eddie’s thrusts don’t slow down but he continues to deny you. “Not yet, baby, I want you to last a little longer for me.” You clench down hard on his cock, trying to stave off your orgasm. Eddie barely changes position and you feel him directly hit your sweet spot. Your scream out, orgasm crashing down on you impossibly hard. Your whole body spasms, trembling and shaking all over.

“Bad girl,” Eddie tuts. He doesn’t slow down his thrusts, fucking you through your orgasm. You feel so sensitive, and to add insult to injury his hand snakes down to your clit, rubbing his thumb quickly over the small nub. You actually scream this time, throat feeling worse as it was raw already from the face fucking.

“D-daddy! Please.. I’m too s-sensitive..” you whine, digging your nails into his back.

His eyes bore into yours. With a sly smile, he said, “You came without permission, this is your punishment.” His lips fell on your neck, sucking his mark into the skin. He kissed the shell of your ear and whispered, “You’re gonna come for me again. And. Again. And. Again.” His thrusts punctuated every word. He sent you over the edge for the second time. 

“Damn baby. Your pussy is squeezing the life outta me.” His fingers dig into your hips. If there weren’t bruises there already, they were definitely forming now. Your nails scratch lines down his back, overstimulated to the point of tears. 

“Daddy, I can’t- please.” You beg. Tears are slipping down your temple and into your hairline. 

“Yes, you can baby.” Eddie pinches your clit, and you howl. “Just one more baby. Cum with me.”

You’re sobbing now, mascara running everywhere and you look like a raccoon more than anything.

You shake your head, scared to cum a third time.

“It’s okay baby. You can do it. Come with me, baby. Cum now.”

You feel your entire body seize up, all the joints are locked and your orgasm washes over you. Eddie follows soon after, pumping his come in you and riding out your orgasms. He stills and looks down to where your bodies are still connected. 

“Baby?” He says, not looking away. “Did you know you could do this?”

You look down to see what the fuck he was talking about and noticed the sheets around your pussy are completely soaked. “D-did I do that?”

“Yeah baby, you squirted everywhere.” His eyes are full of wonder and mischief. “We are definitely doing that again. I didn’t know you could squirt.” He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. 

He pulls out slowly and carefully, but it still pulls a whine from your throat. You’re completely fucked out and you don’t want to move. “Shh. I know baby. I got you.” He walks out of the room and into the bathroom. You can hear the water run for a second before he walks back in, damp washcloth in his hand. He gently cleans you up, running the warm washcloth all over you. You hiss softly as he runs it over your sensitive area, shushing you softly. When he’s done he leaves again.

He comes back in with some water bottles. He hands one of them to you. “I want you to drink at least half. Do you want any ice or cream for your ass?”

You open the bottle, taking a large swig before saying “No, I think I’m good.”

“Okay baby. Turn on your stomach for me anyway.” You turned over on your stomach after you finish your water. “You did so well for me tonight, you made me so proud, You're such a good girl.” Eddie whispered.

You feel Eddie’s hands start to massage your back. It feels amazing. All your muscles are relaxing, and you start to feel drowsy. “Hey, Eds? I think- sleep.”

He chuckles. “Alright baby, you go ahead and rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.” His fingers dig harder into your back.

“’kay.. I love you.” You mumble out.

“I love you too darling.” He murmurs, kissing your forehead.

#eddie x y/n #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #bratting #eddie #eddie the freak munson #edward munson #eddie imagine #first draft #first fic #criticism is welcome #pls dont be mean #discipline #dom/sub #dom!eddie #sub!reader #also posted on ao3

[prettyblondguys]

Little Red Riding Hood pt 2

Warnings: mentions of choking, drugging, Minors DNI, it's John so he's a warning in and of himself lol, one scene has a gun in it, I'll proofread when Hell freezes over.

This takes place the next day!

They're sure to lure someone bad

His eyelids feel heavy as he opens them, unfocused as they take in his surroundings. How did I get here? John thinks to himself, a stuffed up feeling in his head, mouth dry as the desert. Taking a deep breath, the realization that his arms are tied behind his back causes his memories to come flooding back. The woman, her house, the fucking tea. Dread creeps up John's spine as he pulls against the binds keeping him secured tightly to a metal folding chair, ankles tied against the chair legs. A panicked gasp escapes him as the fear sets in, just now noticing that he's in a basement, remodeled into some dingy little bedroom with unfinished wooden shelves lining the walls and storage boxes piled in the corners. He swivels his head around until it lands on an air mattress to his right, made up with a fuzzy pink duvet and pillows. The woman sits on the edge of the mattress, knees pulled to her chest, smiling up at him like she just won the lottery. Oh god. "I was wondering when you'd wake up," she leans forward, crawling until she sits beside him, ignoring the way he jerks when she places a hand on his knee, "are you thirsty? Hungry? Dinners not for a little while, but I could make you a snack if you'd like?" John can't do anything but stare at her, unable to fully comprehend what's going on, feeling uneasy with this role-reversal. She's looking up at him with her brows raised, awaiting his reply with a patient smile. "I.." He croaks out, stopping to clear his throat. The woman quickly stands up and walks towards a small foldout table where a pitcher of ice water sits. She pours water into a cup, ice chips rattling against the plastic, and walks back to John. "Here," she says, raising the cup to his lips, "it's ok." John thinks for a minute, unsure whether she could've put something in the water. I'm already down here. He leans forward, letting her place the lip of the cup against his mouth, slowly raising it until he could take a sip. "There," the woman smiles, sitting down, this time in between his legs, the cup clasped with both hands, "are you hungry?"

"Why are you doing this?" She lets out a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes playfully at his inquiry. "You can't answer a question with a question, silly. But, to answer yours," she looks up at him adoringingly, "I couldn't help myself. You're just so...god, pretty doesn't describe it. You're beautiful, from the first time I saw you, I knew. I just had to have you." Oh god. Looking around the room, with its bed and table, small dresser pushed against the wall and shelves lined with clutter, it all dawns on him. "Oh dear God, how long have you been following me?" Confusion clouds the woman's face, following his line of sight to where it landed on the door, fitted with a key lock on either side. "Oh, oh no, no no," she starts, placing a hand on his leg, "I didn't plan this, the people who lived here before remodeled the basement, the lock is just good luck. I only thought of it yesterday. If I had had more time I would've made it nicer for you. Soft carpet, warm lighting, and a big fluffy bed with as many pillows as you could possibly want. All I could manage in time were the sheets and blanket. But it's okay, you won't be staying down here very long."

"How...how long?" John asks, trying to keep his voice even. The woman hums and stands up, cocking her head to the side, eyes boring into his. "Until I'm sure that you'll be good."

¤

She sits on the mattress, arms resting on her crossed legs, leaning over a paperback. John lets his eyes roam over her, taking in the folds of her stomach as she leans forward, pink sundress snug against her, the soft outline of her jaw and the way her brows furrow, engrossed by whatever it is she's reading. She'd be easy for him to overpower, if he could find a way to get untied. Think. Think. Think.

"What are you reading?"

His sudden interest surprises and delights her, a smile quickly adorning her face. She lifts up the book towards him, a woman in a torn dress is embraced by a mysterious man in black, his mouth on her neck, hers open in either ecstasy or pain.

"Carnal Creatures," says the woman on the mattress, suddenly avoiding his eyes as a blush creeps its way to her chubby cheeks, "kind of like...sexy Dracula."

"Is it..is it any good?" He asks, he can pretend to be interested, to care about her interests, he knows how to do that.

"Yeah," she nods, looking down at the book in her hands, "it's a bit too, you know." John tilts his head in feign curiosity, the way he knows women like. "You know…" she continues, seeming embarrassed, "too smutty. Not enough romance." He lets out a breathy laugh and nods, getting the swing of things. "That's how it all is, these days." The woman looks up at him, hanging on his every word like a line from her book. "Books, movies, even music," he smiles, trying to seem boyishly uncomfortable at the subject, "they all focus on the physical, on..on the sex, and less on - Well, sometimes even completely leaving out - the romance. The softness, which, personally," she's eating it up "I think is the best part." He looks at her for one second, two seconds, three seconds so it seems like he's lingering and then.. BEEP BEEP BEEP

A timer goes off somewhere upstairs, interrupting John's play, and the woman stands up, discarding the book on the mattress. "Dinners ready," she says, smoothing her dress down, "I'll be right back." She walks up the few steps and disappears into the house, leaving John alone with his thoughts.

If I can hear something in the house, then someone in the house would be able to hear me. The hope that thought springs up is quickly subdued when he remembers something she'd said earlier, "I never get guests," and he believes her.

She comes back carrying two platters of food and sets them on the foldout table, before going back and forth bringing plates, glasses, and silverware. She lays it all out and takes hold of the table, pulling it close to John before setting a chair on the other side, across from him. She pours them both water before serving, scooping mashed potatoes and green beans onto his plate, and placing a slice of meatloaf last.

"Here," she says, leaning down behind him. He feels the bonds loosen around his wrists as her fingers make quick work of them, before walking back to her chair and sitting down, watching as he brings his hands forward and rubs them with a wince. "Sorry," she says quietly, a look of remorse on her usually smiling face, "there's really no way around it." She reaches both her hands towards him, palms up, expectantly. Slowly, he obliges her, feeling uneasy as she closes her eyes.

"Dear Lord, we thank you for this meal,"

You've got to be kidding me

"may it sustain and nourish us."

She's insane

"Thank you for all of the ways you provide for us, housing and health, and kind friends."

She's fucking insane

"Help us to always be grateful for Your many blessings. In the name of Your son, Jesus Christ,"

Jesus Christ

"Amen."

……………..

She's looking at him, a kind smile tugging at her lips, "John?"

"Hm? Oh, A..Amen." He stutters out, hands growing sweaty in hers before she lets go, picking up her fork and starting to eat. He does the same.

They eat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, her eyes occasionally flickering up to his as he pretends not to notice, figuring out if he'd have a chance to get free now that his hands were, but the ropes around his legs are still just as tight, and he fears angering her. "So," her voice startles him more than he'd like to admit, "tell me about yourself." I am most definitely not going to do that. "Any family close by?" Swallowing slowly, John tries to decide on a direction to take, "Yes, a brother...who lives nearby." He lies, wanting her to think people would miss him, notice his absence and do something about it. When in reality, John knew that no one would know, no one would worry about him, try to find him. He was easy prey. Just like the women he used to play predator to.

"We were..we were actually supposed to meet today, get together and…" He trails off, watches as a grin spreads across her face, eyes crinkling.

"You, John Tyler, are a bad liar." She laughs, thankfully finding his lies endearing more than angering. No, I'm not. He knew how to lie, he was GOOD at it, at making women believe whatever he wanted them to believe, and if this were any other situation, she'd be nodding along to every little thread he weaved for her. But she unnerved him, she took away that thing that made him able to perform, to string people along. She took away his ability to lie, making him feel exposed.

"That's okay though," she says after a pause, taking a sip of water before pushing her plate away, "we have plenty of time to get to know each other. Do you like music?" She pulls out her phone and taps away at it, locking the screen and tossing it on the mattress after it begins playing, soft pop ballads floating through the speaker. She stands up and clears their plates, taking them in the house and returning with two saucers and a round platter, setting it down in front of him.

My cheesecake.

"My cheesecake." John eyes it, remembering how good that day had been, how good he had felt, how normal. Right up until she came along.

"I didn't want it to go bad," she says, cutting him a slice, "so I brought it in. You don't mind, do you?" She looks at his blank face, genuinely asking if he minded, as if that's more impolite than, say, kidnapping someone. "No, no I just..thank you." He replies, picking at it with his fork while a love song wails on her phone, watching as she raises her fork, the tines sliding between her plump lips. Stop it, John tells himself, now is not the time.

"Ugh," the woman suddenly exclaims with a look of disgust, "I hate this song." John didn't recognize it, some irritating beat with a guy talking about a woman (presumably his girlfriend?) stripping "that down" for him. "It's gross. Hey Siri," her phone chimes as the digital assistant powers up, and as much as he hates it, he has to agree with her, it was gross. "skip this song."

A slower, more romantic one plays instead, "That's better."

The lyrics strike John as darkly ironic,

I will follow you,

follow you wherever you may go.

There isn't an ocean too deep,

a mountain so high it can keep me away.

¤

"I need to use the bathroom."

John was done playing her game, sitting captive and helpless, she had no idea who he was, what he was capable of. He just needed out of these binds.

The woman stands behind him untying his hands, and John notices she's taking longer than she had before. Arms finally free, he brings them forward, massaging his wrists when she places her hands softly on his shoulders,

"I need you to not try anything, okay?" Her words are steady and sure, like she'd been going over them in her head. John nods, knowing she won't be able to stop him. Fingers dig into his shoulders painfully as her grip tightens. "I mean it, John. I've worked very hard on this."

"I promise." His thoughts race, he needs to run as soon as he's able to, but part of him wants to stay, watch as she realizes how big of a mistake she's made, trapping herself in here with him instead of the other way around. That small part of him he has tried so very hard to bury wants to crawl out of the grave, wants to grab hold of her arms and shove her against the wall, wrap his fingers around her pretty neck and watch as her supple chest heaves, gasping for air. He wants to see the fear in her eyes when she's thrown onto the mattress, wants to hear her scream apologies and futile promises as he holds her down.

He wants her to regret letting him into her house.

I am in control of my thoughts, they do not control me. I am in control of my thoughts, they do not control me. I am in control of my thoughts, they do not control me.

She kneels down to untie his legs, hands pausing at the last knot before she eventually relents. John had already made up his mind by then, unwilling to fall back into the man he used to be, so as soon as he feels the rope go slack he's up, bolting towards the door. A click stops him dead in his tracks, hand midair as he had been reaching for the door, holding his breath as he looks over his shoulder, shit. The woman holds a small revolver in her hands, pointed directly at his back as she looks at him disappointedly.

"You promised, John." She sighs, motioning with her head for him to make his way back to the chair, and for a moment he wonders if he could make it to the door before she pulls the trigger, and who knows if she's ever shot the damn thing before. She might miss me completely.

"Since I was ten," the woman says, somehow seeming to guess what he was thinking, "twice a week at the range. Daddy thought a girl should be able to protect herself." And does daddy know what you're using those skills for now? Nevertheless, John slowly walks back over to the chair and sits down. "Tie your legs, we'll leave your arms for now." Begrudgingly he complies, trying to make them less tight than before, but she notices and makes him do it again.

He sits up once he's finished, watching as the woman lowers the gun, looking at him with a displeased pout.

"I...I still have to use the bathroom," he mutters. The woman turns and walks up the steps, returning a few minutes later with a metal bucket. Oh come on.

"You'll have to use this since you wouldn't be good for me."

Authors Note: HI! Sorry it took me so long, I got distracted by the pretty blond men on HOTD lol. Anyways. I really like the concept of John being unnerved when faced with someone who's like him, like seeing his crazy-ness mirrored in her freaks him out, not realizing they're the same lol. Like its okay for him, but not others. ALSO i love this insane woman so much.

Divider credit goes to the lovely @v6que !!

#john tyler #tell me your secrets #hamish linklater #flashing gif #plus size reader #evil women my beloved #she's basically just modern day female Freddie Clegg #And I love her for it #also posted on ao3

[the-tomato-patch]

The Hand that Serves You ( oneshot )

Summary:

"An infinite galaxy filled with infinite possibilities, yet their destinies had crossed more than once. And even then, it went deeper. This was the Jedi from his vision."

Scourge awaits the day his Jedi will break free of the chains that bind her.

Pairing:

Jedi Knight x Lord Scourge ( Pre-relationship )

Word Count:

4.6k+

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50029708

Purple lightning surged forth from the Emperor's hands, a cascade of power seeking to shatter the Jedi's indomitable will. In all things, the Emperor sought subjugation. Another puppet on a string. A visage to splinter and reshape to his image, his agenda. Scourge's gaze did not falter, watching dispassionately as bolts danced across the Jedi's lithe form. The Emperor was meticulous, methodical. This was not his first victim or his last, but one of the few who had the subconscious resilience to withstand such a mental assault. To bend but not break.

Scourge knew this Jedi; their paths had intersected before. On Quesh. Now here, in the dark heart of the Emperor's fortress. An infinite galaxy filled with infinite possibilities, yet their destinies had crossed more than once. And even then, it went deeper. This was the Jedi from his vision. Or at the very least, remarkably similar. A creeping sense of something akin to doubt stirred in the recesses of his mind. A prophecy three hundred years in the making. This Jedi was the one foretold to slay the Emperor. She had to be. Scourge had been certain of this. Yet that certainty eroded away with every electric bolt lashed. Every scream torn from her lips. Her body was strong - she endured the assault, her will unbending. Yet Scourge recognized the subtle shifts in the Emperor's tactics. Physical torment would bring most to their knees. But the Emperor refined his approach, probing the Jedi's mind, her soul, seeking a different weakness.

Scourge watched silently as the lightning finally ceased. Thoughts of ifs, whos, and whys snuffed out. Perhaps destiny. Perhaps coincidence. Scourge cared little for mysticism or philosophy at the moment. Logic and reason were his guides, cold and hard. Emperor Vitiate lowered his hands, a subtle furrow creasing his brow. Scourge waited expectantly, aware of the Emperor's prying eyes. Searching. Reading the Sith like an open book.

"She endures," Scourge said.

"For now," came the Emperor's intruding response. Scourge did not flinch. The Emperor's intrusions were expected. Intended.

"Her pain amuses me. For the moment. Yet I tire of these games," the Emperor continued, flicking his wrist in dismissal.

Scourge did not wait to receive further acknowledgment; he knew his role. He strode forward, halting beside the Jedi's limp form. Her red skin charred, welts seared into flesh. She was barely awake. Conscious. But Scourge knew she would offer no struggle. She had none left to give. Scourge stooped, lifting her weakened body with ease. She slumped against him, head lulled to his shoulder, her shallow breathing a labored rasp against his armor. Scourge paid her no heed. No acknowledgment. This was his role. Nothing more.

Scourge carried the Jedi toward the kolto tanks reserved specifically for Vitiate's pets. The Emperor cared little for healing them fully - enough to keep them alive, functioning to a point until they could be repurposed. Scourge understood this tactic well, hastening back to his days spent in the torture chambers. It was his specialty, as was his master's. Pain, the Emperor's favored tool, one of many at his disposal. Yet even one could grow used to pain until even the very sensations of life grew dull. A sentiment Scourge understood very well. The Emperor, too, was privy to this familiarity. He treated each victim like his own pupil, taking the time to instruct and train, in his own twisted way. To master an art. To give his victim an understanding of their place. If they did not die to fuel his power, then they learned how to endure and persevere. If only to better serve him when the time came.

Scourge placed the Jedi within the kolto tank carefully. She did not stir. Without his assistance, she was sealed within, encapsulated within the murky green waters that would aid her recovery. Then her light amber eyes opened, searching his face. Scourge did not falter. He could not help her. Not now. Even so, Scourge wanted her to have something. An assurance that even this was part of his grand design. The Jedi stared at him, her presence in the Force muted for the moment.

Silent.

Gleaming eyes reflecting him, speaking something he did not understand. Comfort? Trust? Or even just an image for her comfort. A face that she could anchor upon, if only as a crutch. Another force of habit that would see her through the harrowing times ahead. Scourge supposed there was wisdom in the notion. Cling to what gave hope, even in its faintest guises. Had the Force granted her an incentive notion to trust in him? To recognize him as a means of salvation, as his prophecy foretold. Or was it simply her feeble attempt to seek an oasis amidst the desert that was her life now, to somehow find the slightest glimmer of reassurance? Or perhaps she is simply recognizing that she is alive, and therefore she must find some measure of hope in that fact?

Scourge knew well how powerful a weapon the mind could become when faced with agonizing despair and prolonged suffering. Hope could be a vicious creature. It was a cunning trait that could lead to the deepest pits of desire, to inflict agony on an untold scale. Desperation drove others to extremes. Even the darkest of Sith could not ignore the power of hope. Scourge clenched his jaw. Not the time or place. So instead he remained silent, his words gone unsaid. His message known only to him. The Jedi watched him as her eyes drew closed. She seemed to acknowledge it or could do so only on a baser conscious level. A muted connection formed in the Force. Something just beyond Scourge's own comprehension. Either way, Scourge turned away. He had done his part. His Jedi needed rest.

~~~

Vitiate was gone. He had already departed. Gone to no doubt meddle in other matters. Scourge would leave her as well. Yet he would come again. Eventually, for the inevitable would come. Time would prove otherwise, but all he needed was to trust. Trust in his vision. Time was a seemingly meaningless interval while in the Emperor's fortress. Once it had proven a burden, an enemy. Too swift, too long. Hours had felt like years in a cell; an endless test. Days creeping like molasses. An enemy turned to an idle observer of the affairs of mortals. It was an ambiguous concept at best. His only perception came through in the progress he observed in the Jedi before him. Wounds regenerated, skin knitted back together. Flesh and bone grew anew. Scourge studied her progress through the green waters of the kolto tank. Subtle changes occurred each day, with incremental and steady steps toward recovery. When she succumbed to the final phase of the Emperor's tortures, she sought shelter within the sanctity of her own mind, at least while awake. Scourge returned in the hours of twilight and realized this with a careful probing in the Force.

She had no control in slumber. Scourge recognized a festering despair radiating from her, with nightmarish images he was far too familiar with. He did not allow himself to witness her dreams, regardless of his morbid curiosity, but instead, he sensed her torment, fear, fury, and hatred. Their combined influences in the Force manifested visceral horrors behind her closed eyes. Her subconscious was at the whim of a maelstrom, raging uncontrollably and mirroring her pain. It was no better in the waking hours as the malignant forces of the dark side nipped at her heels like blood-starved hounds, eager to snuff out any recollection of the light side.

So he watched, his gaze always upon her, his looming presence a reassurance as well. She acknowledged him then, numb and distant, seeking a beacon in the shadows that was the Sith Lord, always there to lead her onwards to her next training session, her next instruction, her next step in her personal "evolution." It was a ritual that never changed, a circuit of her life spinning in a vortex, her will recoiling as everything she held sacred was stripped away. Scourge feigned ignorance, replying in cold, curt replies. Any indication of his role was a revelation that could spell her end. Despite the reservations he bore as her unwelcome protector, he reasoned that it was better this way. Still, something prompted her, urged her onward.

Scourge thought on the concept, taking the time to ponder and evaluate his own mind. What was it? Was it his obligation to carry her to her future of impending death? Duty to another he had served? Or was it merely in the name of his own survival? He dwelled long and hard on the implications, delving into the matter as the days dragged on. Questions sought answers that evaded him, forcing him to search deeper, only to reach dead ends. Revelations aside, no answer was forthcoming.

In the moments when he was not shadowing his Jedi or performing tasks set upon him by Vitiate, he checked on the Jedi's crew. They were proving resilient in their own way, trapped as they were. It was a diversion from his contemplations, to occupy himself in matters beyond watching progress. The Chagrian stood resolute with a scowl, the doctor miserable in the corner of his cage, and the astromech droid dysfunctional for the time being. And from what he had overheard from discussions between the advisors that oversaw their dark training, the Padawan had been proving difficult as of late. Perhaps change was among them after all. Were the chains of his Lord Emperor slipping away?

Some days later, Scourge observed the spectacle for himself, the final push she had within her. He and his Jedi had come to the center of the fortress, where it all began for her. He gestured to the war droids with the slightest incline of his hand. At his silent command, the silver and black hulks started forward, unleashing a barrage of stun bolts at the woman. At the last second, the Jedi's lightsaber sprung to life, sending up a spray of sparks in her wake. An arc of purple, the hum of her blade ringing clear, and three metallic sentinels parted asunder. It was magnificent. She leapt into the battle in turn, flinging herself forward, stroke after stroke, relentless in her onslaught. And then she was done, disengaging her saber with a simple flourish and returning it to her hip. She bowed lightly and stood there, awaiting his order.

Submissive, she was a complete rejection of herself and all she stood for, like every time before he assumed he would dismiss her with a silent glance that would send her back to her meditations. Their meetings were routine and orderly despite the connection. But then his focus shifted to something she did. The dullness of her eyes flickered, shifting to hold a fraction of clarity. She stared past him, her head shaking. Tiny movements, subtle, and one sign she showed, outwardly at least, of her will. A hint of fire, not in words, but in her actions. This was different, she had resisted more than what he had expected. On the edges of his vision, an anomaly danced, a haze, darkening at first and then flashing with the brilliance of the light side. It held the silhouette of a man, aged with weathered fissures in his face. He nodded.

"Master Orgus," his Jedi spoke.

Scourge raised an eyebrow at the declaration. The notion that the Jedi Knight's Master had sought an audience at such a place as this, at a time like this, gave him pause. Was it mere coincidence, or did the Force allow the apparition's intervention? Then, without warning, the apparition disappeared, and the Jedi before him collapsed into an unconscious heap on the floor, a frail shell once again, nothing more than what the Emperor had created. He stood over her, silent, pondering what he had seen. Then he took hold of her body and placed her within the chambers she had called her quarters over the duration of her stay.

Change was upon them. For the one he would mentor and instruct would escape soon. There was no uncertainty anymore. This fact was only confirmed later in the following week when he received a message of his own from the apparition, voicing a simple line that spurred him to action. He would serve her. He would assist her. He would walk along the path to his destiny and do what should have been done long ago.

~~~

In the dimly lit corridors of polished obsidian and scarlet hued sconces a figure stalked. Elongated shadows chased along his silouette, stretching out like the very echoes of time itself. The air hung heavy with the weight of the dark side, each step resonating through the silence as if adding another layer to the countless footfalls that had preceded beforehand. For three centuries, the halls of this fortress had been traversed by a shell, the ghost of a man locked in a cycle of monotony. But today, a palpable shift was in the air, an atmosphere electric with the promise of change, as charged as the storms that ravaged the Sith homeworld of Dromund Kaas.

Today was the day. He would make his move. Lord Scourge, however, did not hurry. To rush would be indicative of anticipation, an emotion that had long since been purged from his being.  Instead, he stalked, his measured gait predatorial, not hurried, but purposeful. 

Amongst the recesses of his mind, the raspy voice of Orgus Din echoed: "It is time." Scourge had dedicated three centuries to what appeared to be a futile mission: betraying the Sith Emperor and realizing a vision that held not only the destiny of the galaxy but also the tantalizing prospect of breaking free from the eternal torment of immortality. It was a fate he had embraced on the eve of a fateful vision, a series of sacrifices made in a desperate bid for self-preservation. These were necessary sacrifices, ones that shattered the bonds of cautious trust, severing the very essence of an unlikely alliance formed with Meetra Surik and Revan, two individuals brought together for the sole purpose of confronting the Sith Emperor. Yet, for Scourge, his motivations ran deeper, veiled in shadows darker than the Force itself.

In the process, he had severed the ties of trust and life, his crimson saber cauterizing the wound it inflicted upon Meetra, rendering her one with the Force. A fatal blow that marked the beginning of a long journey.

As if summoned, two imperial guards clad in ornamental red armor appeared around the corner, marching in perfect unison. Each fell into a crisp salute as he swept passed, wordlessly falling into his shadow, cape billowing out from behind his massive frame. Their synchronized footsteps echoed down the hallway and into the docking bay beyond. The doors opening with swift efficiency as they were greeted by the haggard sight of the prisoners who had been confined in cages.

Upon their arrival, Scourge came to an abrupt halt. With a simple flick of his hand, he dismissed the guards, his deep voice resonating through the silence as he commanded, "Leave us."

Without so much as a nod, the guards obeyed, pivoting in place before disappearing back into the corridor. His business was not theirs to know, not even the Emperor, who would come to eventually learn of his machinations too late.   He turned, his sharp gaze carefully assessing each captive. His scrutiny paused, lingering for a fleeting moment upon the whole crew of the Jedi Knight. The rest of the prisoners were comprised of what he considered little more than fodder—a doctor, a Chagrian, and an astromech droid. They were inconsequential.

However, there had been another prisoner, the Padawan, who had remarkably shattered the Emperor's chains upon her mind not long before her own Master. She was conspicuously absent from her designated cell. Scourge reached out through the Force, seeking her presence. His senses revealed her confined in an arrangement he was well too familiar with- a torturer's slab. She was not alone. Accompanied by a lesser and the Jedi. His Jedi. In the grand scheme of things, the extra who had broken free of his Master's influence was neither here nor there. They would be freed. By him or the Jedi. 

Scourge's gloved hand tightened over the hilt of his saber with the same mechanical precision that defined every facet of his existence. Something shifted, though it manifested not in sentiment but in a subtle, almost imperceptible change in his unyielding determination. With a hiss that cut through the silence like a serpent's kiss, a crimson blade ignited, casting the cages and walls in a sinister light. The glare bounced off the mirror like surfaces, creating an eerie resemblance to splattered blood, a sinister proclamation of the slaughter to come.

He moved purposefully toward the first cage, the crimson tip of his saber angled downward, its searing heat making contact with the durasteel bars. The resulting ear-splitting hiss echoed through the chamber. The imprisoned doctor inside shouted something in desperation, but he paid it no mind. He executed a swift slash, the bars crumpled and fell away, rendering the enclosure obsolete. 

Turning his attention to the second cage, which contained the chagrian, he applied the same precision. The chagrian met his circumstances with hardened resolve, a bitter scowl etched on his face. The human looked over to his companion. No words passed between them—only a pair of bewildered glances when Scourge walked away.

As the dust settled, only the astromech droid remained. Scourge, his hand outstretched, drew upon the dark side, channeling his power to crush the restraints that had held the droid captive. The droid's metallic frame quivered with relief and vitality as a series of appreciative beeps emanated from it as Scourge disengaged his saber and placed it back on his hip. With newfound freedom, the droid wheeled its way toward the others, joining them on their path to escape.

Scourge pivoted on his heel, turning to the remaining occupants of the room. Lessers watching the scene unfold with varying degrees of concern. Their fear prickled Scourge's senses, the sensation akin to an errant insect. Irritating. Scourge extended his hand once more, exerting a fraction of his will. Like an insect, they would die. A plot three centuries in the making would not be compromised by errant filth and stray blaster fire. Scourge needed no witnesses, no loose threads.

As their fear continued to escalate, it manifested in misplaced bursts of gunfire and frenzied, albeit futile, attempts at organizing themselves. Scourge's hand clenched, and with it, a series of sickening cracks reverberated throughout the chamber. Scourge released his hold, bodies collapsing to the ground in a grotesque heap by the docking bay doors, their weapons clattering to the floor in an unsightly pile. It had been a quick and efficient display of the Force choke. Scourge did not savor it. Nor revel in the violence. It was necessary. A means to an end. 

They were coming. His Jedi was coming.

Scourge did not await their arrival idly. He strode back toward the cages, snuffing out the last flames of any remaining lessers in the room with the flick of his wrist. He spared not a glance for the lifeless forms strewn across the floor, nor did he acknowledge the Jedi crew's frantic scrambling. Especially the doctor that attempted to stabilize one of his casualties. The last vestiges of life slipping through her semi-crushed wind pipe. Instead, his attention honed as he sensed their arrival, his deep connection to the Force enabling him to detect their gradual approach, their presence like ripples in a pond of energy.

The Jedi Knight and her companion.

The first emanated an aura touched by darkness—the unmistakable signature of a Sith. It sent shivers down his spine, for it was a touch of darkness he recognized all too well.

The second presence was weaker in the Force, a youngling by comparison. However, there was a spark about her, a tenacity that could prove troublesome.

Scourge's curiosity piqued.Around the corner, they appeared side by side. Their footsteps were guarded, a subconscious hesitation in their physical gait that was mirrored in their Force presence. Scourge stood statuesque, his face revealing nothing. The human companion held no weapon. Her hands outstretched in a defensive stance, her aura was wary, a quiet vigilance at the ready. His Jedi had her saber drawn, her face drawn in a snarl. Her expression alight with a mixture of anger and suspicion. Scourge met her gaze, her fresh visage burned in his memory since Quesh, now tainted with a potent rage leashed by Jedi philosophy. What a shame. Scourge allowed himself the briefest indulgence to lament her current disposition. The Jedi Knight would have proven a formidable Sith. A worthy rival.

"Step away from my ship and my crew. We're leaving," she commanded, her voice carrying an edge of authority.

Scourge chose to disregard her demand, maintaining his stoic demeanor. His intense gaze remained unwavering as he ignited his crimson lightsaber. He extended it towards her, a symbol of defiance. Their eyes locked in a silent standoff, and she continued to approach him, her own lightsaber held firmly in her grip, exuding an unwavering urge to confront the Sith Lord who stood before her. The audacity.

"If I wished to fight, I would not have freed your crew or killed these guards," Scourge retorted, his voice calm and measured, a stark contrast to the Jedi's hostile tone. He maintained his saber's position between them, not as a direct threat but as a clear deterrent, a silent message to dissuade her from impulsively engaging in combat.

The tense atmosphere was disrupted by the astromech droid that had been hanging back in the shadows. Scourge recalled its name—T7—and watched as it rolled forward, emitting a series of electronic chirps, "Sith = telling truth / / Sith = freed us + secured hangar". Her expression faltered, briefly shifting to acknowledge the astromech's words.

A moment's hesitation from the Jedi served as confirmation enough for Scourge to deactivate his lightsaber and return it to his hip. It was a gesture intended to convey goodwill, but not an invitation for unwarranted trust. "More guards will come. Shall we go before they arrive?"

His Jedi still hesitated, her lightsaber held at the ready, her contemplative gaze scanning the chamber as she weighed her options. Scourge observed her shift her stance, taking a cautious step forward. "Where are the other Jedi I came with? Free them, and I'll consider it."

"If they were here, I would have liberated them as well," Scourge replied. He adjusted his stance, a slow and deliberate approach, not as a menacing advance, but rather an attempt to bridge the gap between them. "I could've killed you on Quesh, had I wanted. Did you never wonder why I hesitated?"

His response seemed to elicit a reaction of doubt. Yet she had no time to respond as his red eyes  bore into her own. Despite the gray of the world, the orange of them was etched into memory, as fiery as the volcanic fields of Mustafar. "I have waited over three hundred years to see the face that came to me in a vision. Your face." 

All emotion drained from her —confusion, recognition, doubt—replaced by incredulousness. Finally, something clicked, and her saber deactivated with a mechanical hiss. She hung back a moment, folding her arms over her chest, measured him, lingering as she struggled with the revelation.

"Why didn't you help me before? If you saw this vision," she challenged. An accusation. "You could have told me on Quesh-- or in your masters fortress!"

Scourge shook his head. "It was vital that you help yourself first," he replied. Her brow knitted, clearly annoyed with his opaque answer. Before she could object, Scourge continued, "Had I intervened, you might never have escaped the Emperor. But today, you will. I needed to make sure the time had come. Only a few beings have ever broken the Emperor's domination. You and that girl are special." 

"Kira and I have the power to destroy your master." Her confidence was so assured but Scourge knew well that they were not potent enough in their power to destroy Vitiate. He would not have efforts wasted by over eager Jedi. 

"Not yet. Not without my help." Scourge had expected this to be an uphill battle, yet he had no alternatives to offer, nor indeed the time to cultivate a sufficient one. "Though the Emperor seeks to conceal his true plans, I have seen them. That vision has driven me to this..." 

Then he fell to one knee, head lowered in the ultimate form of subjugation. It was an act of complete necessity, of absolute capitulation, a gesture he had not made in centuries. Not since he knelt before the Emperor and became his Wrath. He required the Jedi Knight to recognize what he sacrificed today, what could cost him more than everything. Even the galaxy. A heavy moment hung in the air as she stared, disbelieving. Had Scourge had any inclination to the slightest hint of sentiment, he might have grinned. Or grimaced.

He offered himself as the hand who would serve. No longer the Emperor's Wrath. A servant pledging his undying loyalty and unflinching resolve to his Jedi. A bond sealed not in blood, but in an oath. There was no doubt. His choice was unwavering. The future, which hinged upon the Jedi Knight's actions, had been cemented. Their course weaved into the very tapestry of the Force. Whether their fate would be salvation or ruin, neither knew. 

"I pledge my loyalty to you. Take me to your Jedi Council on Tython, and I'll reveal why."

His proposal was met with pause, a front hiding the skepticism. She looked away, deep in thought.

"We're not actually considering this? I mean, he's obviously full of awful." Came an objection from Doc.

Kira scoffed beside him, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm with Doc. This is a trap."

Her gaze snapped back to his own, the faintest hint of resignation as the silence beckoned. His Jedi. How curious. Perhaps she saw past the veil of his stoic mask, heard the desperate truth spoken in a subtext of deceit. Or perhaps not. She furrowed her brow, her fingers tightening into a fist. A quickening pulse that signaled an involuntary response in a fight or flight scenario. Scourge would have sighed, if he so inclined. For one accustomed to manipulating the Force, she was being rather transparent.

"I seek to save this galaxy from annihilation. Without my help, your ship will never escape. I can guide you to freedom." 

 Her eyes drifted briefly to her crew, assessing, then flicked back to meet his again. He tilted his chin, wordlessly awaiting her answer as he rose from his kneeling position. "I believe him," she said finally, "An old friend told me I'd find a dark ally here. He meant you, didn't he?" 

If Scourge were capable of amusement, he would have smiled, but of course he did no such thing. Instead, he nodded, "I will always be Sith-- but that does not mean we can't work together." 

His response seemed to appease her for the most part. She peered over his shoulder toward the hangar entrance, aware of the time their exchange had consumed. With the absence of reinforcements, it wouldn't be long before someone eventually took notice of their commotion. 

"Time is a luxury we no longer possess. We must go-- now. I will navigate us through the defense grid."

Scourge received no verbal answer, only an affirmative nod from his Jedi, and he immediately headed to the turbolift, toward her light corvette. She followed close behind, the pair maneuvering around her crew who had been understandably reluctant to voice their opinions further. Nonetheless, they had to leave-- there was no other alternative.

From this moment, the die was cast.

#swtor #star wars the old republic #swtor jedi knight #jedi knight #lord scourge #scourge #oc: rhiasen shedim #fanfiction #swtor fanfiction #fanfic #am i formatting this right #also posted on ao3 #and ffnet #canon rewrite #introspection #extended scene #exposition #head canons #please dont judge me #writing for myself #scourge is hard to write #star wars

[sarcasmcloud]

Keep Breathing (tag to Andor 110)

"I can't swim," Kino says, and he looks frozen by fear, rooted on the spot.

It's fine, Cassian wants to say. I've never learned either.

But he's standing on the very edge, and he’s swept off his feet before he can even open his mouth. Someone collides with him and suddenly he's weightless. He doesn't even see the water, only the sky above and the walls of the prison. Freedom, he thinks.

He hits the water and the impact steals his breath. The blaster he’s still holding smacks him in the face. And then he sinks.

Cold. Dark.

For a terrifying second he doesn't know which way is up. He wants to yell, for Melshi, anyone. He keeps his mouth shut even when he wants to gasp for air. More and more people plummet from the prison. White bubbles all around. Chaos.

He releases his grip on the stolen weapon and looks which way it sinks. He kicks in the opposite direction, frantic.

His head breaches the surface. He takes a lungful, then coughs when a wave hits him in the face.

It's not that hard, he thinks. His eyes sting from the salt and it feels like crying.

He kicks and kicks again to stay afloat, strained muscles unaccustomed to the task. He turns his back away from the prison, briefly wondering if Kino jumped after him anyway. If he's already drown underwater, drifting with the current, eyes open and unseeing, turning blue.

He can see the shore ahead, far away in the distance. Freedom.

People are already swimming in that direction, despite the confusion, and Cassian tries to follow. He nearly gets kicked in the head. More waves hit his face and he sputters. Asking for help is useless, screaming will only tire him down. He clenches his teeth and tries to swim, head bobbing under the water. The orange and white overalls are waterlogged and it’s weighing him down. At least we don’t have shoes, he thinks.

He's not moving fast enough, and a straggler falls on top of him, pushing him underwater again. Up and down don't exist anymore. Only water. Dark and infinite.

I'm going to die, he thinks as he kicks uselessly, limbs cold and heavy. He doesn't mean to, but his brain is not working properly and he can't think straight anymore — he opens his mouth to breathe. The bubbles go up, and he knows he should follow them, but his vision is dimming and his legs won't respond.

-

There is a hand on his collar. Firm and unyielding.

I'm back in the prison, he thinks.

He panics. Flails and swings. His loose fist connects with something solid. Someone grunts. The hand never lets go.

He can hear someone talking. The words don't make sense but he knows that voice. He trusts that voice. He's so kriffing tired anyway. He stops resisting and just floats.

Floats.

Swims.

He's in the water. He can't swim.

He’s panicking again, but this time the hand shakes him and the voice growls and the words start making sense despite the water in the ears and the cold seizing his brain. His eyes sting and his muscles are cramping from the cold. But he's above water somehow. He's alive.

"Keep breathing, Keef. Stop struggling. You're doing fine. That's it. Keep breathing."

Melshi, Cassian tries to say but he just gets a mouthful of water.

"Don't speak, you fool." Melshi sounds breathless. Tired. He's swimming for the both of them, Cassian realizes.

They're alone. He can't see anyone else around them, only waves and the immensity of the ocean.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles and he manages not to swallow water this time.

"Shut up," Melshi says. "You're fine," he says.

Am I? Cassian thinks.

There is a wet rattle in his lungs and he can't feel his fingers anymore. He can't see anything through the sting of the salt water and the dark that's falling. His ears buzz and he tries to keep up, he really does. He passes out again.

-

There are lips on his mouth and air in his lungs. His eyes fling open and he tries to swing, but his punch never lands. Rough hands roll him and then he's on his side, and he coughs and coughs and retches on the wet sand. The hands retreat and he whines at the loss.

"Shh," Melshi says. He pats his shoulder.

His body hurts like he was beaten black and blue. The ground is hard against his hip. It’s not a good place to lie and rest, he thinks, as he watches the waves lap at his lax hand. His fingers are white and don’t feel like his anymore. He should be shivering. Maybe he drowned, like Kino, like all the others.

He realizes he lost the blaster he had earlier and fear seizes him, colder than the ocean, and he pats the sand around, trying to get on all fours, because they need it, they're barefoot and half dead and night is falling, or maybe he's passing out again and...

"Shh," Melshi says again. He grabs his face, his hands are firm, his own face so close, and he repeats, "Breathe, Keef, breathe."

And Cassian tries, he really does. His ribs hurt as he pants, slower and deeper until it matches Melshi's breathing. It unlocks something in his chest and Cassian feels like he's breathing for the first time in months. Air, outside, salty air.

Freedom.

They don’t have time to discuss, to rejoice or mourn the ones who didn’t make it — some part of him hopes they’re alone because he was a deadweight, and that they’re already running away on land, long gone before them.

Melshi drags him to his feet, and he flings his arm around his shoulders. Cassian stumbles but he stays up. He has no other choice.

I should tell him my name’s not Keef, he thinks.

His body is warming up, he feels alive. There are lights in their back, searching. They start running.

#andor #andor fanfiction #ruescott melshi #cassian andor #kino loy #I couldn't let go of a personal headcanon that cassian can't swim #110 #also posted on AO3 #whumpedit

[capriciouswriter207]

Among the ashes

Gem rushed to the Grimlands.

When the Crystal Cliffs were hit with an earthquake, she knew something had happened. A natural tremor didn’t pass by as quickly. A naturally occurring tremor could not have caused her heart to drop and her mind to be on high alert. Though she had no idea how or why, something must have happened. Something bad enough that it raised her concerns and made her travel to the Grimlands.

It couldn’t be that bad, she tried to reason. For all she knew, she was rushing to Eastvale and would meet with fWhip. He’d probably invite her over for a drink and a quick moment to catch up on the silly things that have been happening in their respective empires.

Nothing bad had happened. She just had to believe that.

She cruised over the mountains that formed the natural border of the Grimlands and obscured her view from Eastvale. Smoke billowed out as per usual but she didn’t meet the familiar sight of the very tip of the Forge that towered over the entire city, right next to the manor. She hadn’t expected the smoke to be darker and thicker than usual.

Nothing could have prepared her for the moment her heart dropped.

Eastvale lay in ruin. The crater was wide, covering almost all of the city’s surface. Some walls stubbornly stood while five yards away it had been destroyed. Even from this distance, soaring above the ruins, the wind carried the cries of pain and despair, little dots moved away from the carnage across the dry Grimmish plains, smoke and fire rose from the debris.

fWhip…

She flew directly to the hill on which the Forge and manor stood. Tears welled up in her eyes – flying became dangerous, but she didn’t care. She pushed forward, faster, ever faster. She needed to find her brother.

Her brother, probably caught in the middle of a cataclysmic explosion that destroyed this beautiful town. Her brother, always so careful in his workspace – such care that never truly got translated whenever he had to step outside Grimmish borders. Her brother, stubborn as ever, either oblivious to the danger or attempting to evacuate those who worked in the forge to give them a fighting chance.

Her brother, caught in the debris somewhere.

If he wasn’t already…

No. She shouldn’t think like that. Her heart already tugged at her, pulled her in the right direction to rush to his aid. Wouldn’t an even stronger sense of sorrow and despair overwhelm her if he had left this world once and for all? Wouldn’t she have already lost her mind? Wouldn’t she realize any attempts to help would be futile if he was…?

No. He lived. He had to live. He couldn’t be… he had to live.

Gem landed atop some debris where once the great Forge was located. In any other circumstances, she would’ve called out for the Count – but then again, those situations never were the deadly kind. In those other circumstances, she did not have any chance of losing her colleague and brother once and for all. So she shouted his name; loud, panicked, raw. She wiped away tears constantly, tried to hold back the sobs that inevitably escaped her mouth. She looked around, cast spells, did whatever she thought of to try and locate fWhip in as short of a timespan as possible, but it seemed useless. So much was going on, so much debris and so many lives lost. Her mind was clouded by the thought of losing her brother, not thinking straight or being able to calmly come up with a solution – which frustrated her even more and sent her into a vicious cycle of frustration and helplessness.

A sense of helplessness that hadn’t reared its head in a long time.

She sank to her knees and allowed herself to cry. If she let it out, maybe she could approach the situation a little more clear-headed…

Impossible. It was impossible to be clear-headed in a situation such as this one.

A familiar dog ran over. Gem lifted her head and recognized him as one of fWhip’s. He came running towards her but kept his distance, barked at her.

She stared at the dog for a few seconds before she rose to her feet and walked towards him. He turned around and ran away, sometimes stopped and glanced over his shoulder.

Gem started to run once she realized he was guiding her.

There. Caught near one of the walls, she spotted his red scarf. She had no more eyes for the dog, rushing straight to the unmoving form of her brother.

He wasn’t moving. Laying on his back, his lower body was caught under the debris. His hair and the tattered scarf danced in the wind, the goggles upon his head broken. Covered in soot and dirt and ash and blood, one of his arms in a weird angle, and by the gods, he wasn’t moving—

She clutched the staff in her hands and between the sobs and shivers, she cast a spell. She wasn’t even sure what she was doing – the staff, her emotions, her knowledge guided her through the incantation. Unlike so many of her spells, this one came from her heart instead of her mind – uncharted territory that she wasn’t sure how to feel about. She did not protest, allowed herself to be guided into using a powerful spell that would drain her strength but would bring her brother back from the brink of death.

If he hadn’t already crossed that threshold.

Once she was done, she fell to her knees and ran her hand through fWhip’s hair, traced his currently-slack jaw with her finger. He was so still, too still, uncomfortably still and quiet. The dog nudged him as well, but all they could do was wait for the results to kick in.

If they would kick in.

She scooted a little closer, gently lifted his head and placed it in her lap. She may not have much, but if he was going to wake, she wouldn’t want his head to be supported by a particularly sharp-looking piece of debris, which might have been a windowsill once. A little bit of comfort – that was all she could offer him. A little bit of comfort would go a long way, and maybe her tears would clean some of the grime from his still face.

A sharp breath. A deep inhale followed by a series of coughs that made Gem gasp in relief. she gently held his shoulder, ran her fingers through his hair, provided vocal and physical comfort as he awoke.

“It’s alright,” she told him, “it’s alright. I’m here. You’re alive, I’m here. I’m here, it’s okay.”

The coughing fit subsided, and he blinked in the sunlight. Once his gaze found focus, a confused frown appeared on his face.

“Gem?” he croaked. “What the—what—”

She shushed him.

“You’re alive,” she merely said. “You’re alive, fWhip. You’re gonna be okay.”

He looked at her, a quick nod. “Okay…”

Then, a grimace. Pain jolted through his body. He winced and Gem noticed, though he may have wanted to conceal it. Even now, he didn’t want her to see just how hurt he was.

“Take it easy,” she said. “Help is on the way. Help is coming.”

From his whole being loose and limp to being quite tense, to some relaxation again. Relaxation – his muscles relaxed and released the tension. He may not have wanted to rest or fall unconscious while Gem was watching, but he could not do much to stop this from happening, either. He could only muster half of a reassuring smile in her direction before he let the darkness take him again.

Not death. His chest rose and fell, more noticeably than before. If it had even done so when she had found him. but he breathed, his heart was beating, he was alive.

He was alive. That was all she could have hoped for. It was the only good outcome for this day.

He lives.

She sat there until help found them.

#empires smp #empires smp s1 #geminitay #fwhip #roseblings #angst #roseblings angst #revisiting the finale #or is it commemmorating? #in either case i'm back on my usual roseblings angst #because who doesn't love some good roseblings angst #just wanted to do something with this scene right here #never really got around to it last year #so why not share it now? #capricious writings #also posted on ao3

[conditionaljewel]

Laudna opened her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. She felt like she had been laying trying to sleep for at least an hour but she was struggling. She found this puzzling, considering she had just been resurrected not even 8 hours ago, and was still feeling the effects that typically leaves on a person. She’d been dead for over a week, so one would think she’d be feeling a little off and just want to rest comfortably. Instead, here she was in the late hours, laying out on a bed mat underneath the Sun Tree in Whitestone. She had asked the party while at dinner if they minded sleeping outdoors tonight, wanting to sleep underneath the Sun Tree. Everyone had obliged and bedded down for the night just steps away from the base of the tree. The sky was clear and the moons were out, without the threat of rain, and a nice breeze blowing through the square.

She sat up and looked around at her friends surrounding her. Fearne and Chetney were laying beside one another, reclined somewhat comfortably on a pile of their respective belongings, while Orym had curled himself up in the crook of Fearne’s knees. Ashton had crashed on a bench just across the way, one leg up hitched up on the bench itself while the other rested on the ground, his hammer laying just inches away from his arm left dangling, while Fresh Cut Grass was seemingly in their stasis mode, having been propped up against the side of the Ashton’s makeshift bed.

Everyone was sound asleep. Well, almost everyone.

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It was here in this moment that Laudna realized that Imogen, who she thought had been laying just behind her, was no longer there. She had turned to find that her bed mat was empty, its blanket pulled back, but the rest of her belongings all left behind.

“Imogen?” Laudna whispered out into the quiet night air, whipping her head around in an attempt to survey her surroundings. She moved a little too quickly at first however, as the stiffness of her once-again-reanimated body caused her some discomfort. She took a slower approach now as she continued to look about the square, and it only took her another moment when she saw Imogen was sitting on another bench not far from where the party was camping. Her back was to the rest of the group, and she was sat there looking up at the Sun Tree, seemingly lost in thought.

Here in this late hour of the evening, Imogen had let her walls down and opened her mind. With nobody around, the silence consumed the entirety of her mind, as she allowed herself a moment’s peace. There wasn’t anyone awake around, she figured, and let the walls completely crumbled, the silence so loud it was nearly drowning out the sound of nature and just the ambient noise of the world. For a moment, she couldn’t hear the night owls and other creatures that called the night their home, their calls dimmed by the muted silence that overwhelmed her in the best of ways.. Imogen took in a deep breath and held it in for a moment before exhaling slowly, repeating this several times over the next couple of moments. She felt the tension and stress wash away temporarily; she knew that this reprieve wouldn’t last, that they’d be back at it tomorrow. But for tonight, she was allowing herself to relax. She had sank into that peace and quiet, this meditative state, and basked in it for a few minutes.

It was not long before the silence started to be gently interrupted by a soft, sweet melody. It was a melody that she’d not heard in several weeks. It was Laudna’s. She kept her eyes closed for another moment, letting the sound of Laudna’s mind wash over her more and more with each of Laudna’s steps. A smile grew on Imogen’s face.

Imogen turned her head slowly and saw Laudna walking very intently, gingerly making her way over to her, trying not to distract or startle Imogen. As a result, she hadn’t noticed that Imogen had already seen her coming, also not realizing that she may have heard her either. Laudna smiled and waved rather shyly at Imogen, who smiled back as she raised a hand and motioned for her to come over. Laudna obliged, with a little more energy in her step now.

Laudna sat down next to Imogen as she scooted over to make a bit more room for the both of them.

“Hi,” they both said together, the second occurrence of this having happened between them. Imogen blushed and smiled, as Laudna tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. Was that also a blush coming from Laudna?

“I couldn’t sleep, but you looked like you were sleeping so soundly, so I just thought… I don’t know, I’d just come and sit for a while,” Imogen said as she placed her hands down on the either side of her thighs, pressing down on the bench as she began to kick her legs back and forth.

Laudna watched as Imogen sat restlessly. “I didn’t hear you get up, but you could have woken me. I must have started to sleep, I was trying to at least, but,” she paused and looked away from Imogen, glancing up toward the Sun Tree. Her eyes locked in now on its looming canopy a good twenty-five, thirty feet off the ground, the branches now full and lively with leaves and wildlife that make their homes in its wide-reaching limbs. “I think having been a different kind of asleep for so long, I’m still trying to wake up in other ways.” She began to very lazily swing and sway her arms and torso while she sat in place, imitating a light stretch and workout without quite unleashing her Spiderclimb abilities. “I think I just need to stretch out some more.”

“Oh sure, that is understandable.” Imogen said as she watched Laudna move about the space. She had to lean back to avoid Laudna’s somewhat erratic flailing. She could tell that despite her liveliness, she still was a little disoriented from the whole ordeal.

“How are you, besides that though?” Imogen asked, a tone of sincerity in her voice that Laudna had not heard in so long. Oh, how she’d missed that. Could you miss things when you’re dead? She wasn’t sure, but she must, because she did. That’s how she felt at least. None the less, Laudna looked up at Imogen as she contemplated her answer, ceasing her horrible attempt at stretching.

“You know,” she started, “I don’t quite know, honestly.”

Imogen nodded, but before she was able to ask a follow-up question, Laudna stood up and continued her answer.

“I mean, it’s strange isn’t it?” Laudna was now pacing back and forth in front of the Sun Tree. “Just a few hours ago, I was dead, and now I’m not. I wasn’t here, but now I am. It’s odd. But it’s beautiful in a way. I know it’s happened to me before, it shouldn’t feel like something new, but it does, and that I’m just considering all of it, in such a short time like this, it’s just a bit surreal."

Imogen had been watching Laudna intently, with awe and longing in her eyes. “But do you feel alright,” Imogen asked her. Laudna turned from her pacing and looked at Imogen, and smiled.

“Never better, darling.” Laudna sat back down and took Imogen’s hands into hers. “Truthfully, I am alright. It’ll take a few days to shake the cobwebs, and I feel just a little off-center, but thanks to you all, I am okay.”

Laudna looked up at the Sun Tree as she said this. The sensation of being back in Whitestone for the first time since she last here, 30 years ago when she died and was resurrected the first time, especially under wildly different circumstances as compared to now, had certainly left her feeling confused. She had begun to heal this afternoon as she had embodied her Form of Dread and manifested a tree not unlike the Sun Tree, but she was not so naive as to believe that healing would be simple and take no time at all. No, in fact if her life up until now had taught her anything, it was that it would take a lot of time and patience before she would be able to reconcile with anything. She also knew that it may not be in totality either, but today was at least a start in that journey.

Recognizing this, Laudna wanted to take another step in that healing process. If nothing else, she wanted to reconcile with what was sitting before her, the Sun Tree standing tall and proud. She looked away from the Tree and down toward the ground. She knew Imogen wouldn’t lie to her. She knew she’d tell her the truth. “Imogen, can I ask you something?”

Imogen looked over at her. “Sure, darlin’. What is it?”

Laudna took a deep breath. “What… what was it like? When you faced Delilah? What happened?” Laudna turned away from the Sun Tree and back to Imogen. There was a look of hesitancy and nervousness now on Laudna’s face as she asked Imogen this.

Imogen swallowed hard, suspecting this question might have been coming. Imogen blinked and, for a moment, she saw the little girl that she had seen in Delilah’s shadow realm. Matilda. There she was before Imogen with that same look of sadness and confusion on her face as Imogen saw in the shadow realm. Imogen blinked again, and Matilda was gone. Imogen was looking back at Laudna. She blinked twice more just to be sure that it was still Laudna; it was.

Imogen spent the next little while recounting just how she and the rest of their friends traversed the shadow realm, trying to find the fragments and memories of Laudna scattered about. She told Laudna of the vision of Andy; of having to climb into the barn; of seeing her parents before the dinner. She told Laudna about meeting Matilda, and of Chetney finding the beginnings of Pate in the woods. She even mentioned how every single one of them, not for a moment, lost sight of what they were trying to do: save her.

As Imogen told all of this to Laudna, she had gotten up from her spot on the bench and had taken up sitting on the ground directly in front of Laudna. She’d plunked down criss-cross applesauce, and was leaned back on her arms for support as she continued to tell Laudna about their approach to the central square where the Tree and Delilah had been.

“Do you remember anything?” Imogen asked her. Laudna sat listening intently as though she were listening to Imogen share a scary story, her head resting on her hands with complete attention paid to Imogen, whilst fully aware that this scary story was all happening with her spirit hanging in the balance.

“I remember being stuck in a tree for what seemed like eternity” Laudna replied as she sat up a bit more upright now, beginning to reflect on what other details she could recall. “I know that she was not pleased, and I could hear her talking.” Laudna swallowed as she fought back emotion in her voice. “I remember hearing you, talking with you, and I remember telling you that I’d been fighting her for so long, and how much I hated it here…” Laudna paused as these words left her mouth, and she began to look around.

She took in the city that slept soundly around her, a Whitestone bathed in the moonlight of Catha high above. She closed her eyes and began to recall the last night she was here: the night she was dead, and was resurrected, the night she fled the city. She remembered the bloodshed, the fighting, the violence, the horrible rebellion and what it wrought on the city around her as she ran into the wilderness. It all came back to her memory for the briefest moment, like a sudden flash, and then vanished. All was still, quiet. There was no screaming, no fires, no bloodshed. There were no loose nooses hanging from the tree, no bodies, no fighting. No violence. No Briarwoods. In this moment, it was just her and Imogen and the Sun Tree.

“But now…” Laudna looked back at Imogen, who had a concerned look on her face. “This is different, this is how it was before them. It’s… nice.” She lingered on that last word, nice. She said it with no malice, no taint, just sincerity and honesty. It may not feel like home, but she didn’t feel so weary anymore. It was a start.

Imogen smiled at hearing this. “It is nice,” she said. “It really is.”

“It helps that I have you here,” Laudna said as she put her hands out to Imogen.

Imogen, blushing, reached out with one hand and got off the ground, brushing off her skirt with her free hand before she sat back down on the bench next to Laudna.

Imogen finished recounting the tale of their encounter with Delilah; how Orym sprung into the Sun Tree to try to break Laudna free, only to be cut loose from the realm. She told of Fresh Cut Grass being ambitious in his attempts to subdue Delilah only to be cast away as well. But then she told her of how she and Fearne set the Tree ablaze, and Delilah's pained screaming as they finished what they started. They were fulfilling their promise.

“And then, we just came back to in Pike’s home, she took a moment to prepare everything and then…” Imogen brushed a strand of hair that had fallen down in front of her face out of the way, so she could look more clearly and intently at Laudna. “Orym said a few things, and Fresh Cut Grass tried… somethin’…” Imogen scoffed as she recalled his offering during the ritual, before reeling her emotions back in. “And then I said a few words, and…”

Imogen wiped her eyes of the few tears that had formed. “I said a few words, and then Pike slapped you, and there you were. You were back.”

Laudna took this all in and was processing everything piece by piece. The ghostly encounters, the bits of conversation she could recall clearly. She also remembered feelings of a struggle, a shift in the energy that was connected with her soul. A separation. She still wasn’t sure if Delilah was totally gone, with what her friends had done, but it was enough to bring her back. And for that, she was eternally grateful. She smiled and nodded after a moment, looking back up at Imogen now.

Imogen smiled, now growing a bit shy and worried suddenly. She looked away from Laudna, allowing her hair to fall back down and obscure her face. “I wasn’t going to just let you go,” she said, now turning back to look at her, brushing the hair away.

Laudna put her hand on Imogen’s. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

Imogen hung her head for a moment and let out a soft sigh of relief. Until now, she felt slightly ashamed and worried that Laudna might be angry with her, but she didn’t quite know why. Perhaps it was the tinge of guilt Imogen felt that they had made her wait to bring her back, or maybe it was that Imogen felt it was her fault Laudna was gone to begin with. She wasn’t sure. Imogen knew that it was a lot she was feeling in that moment that she couldn't put into words. She had apologized so much to Laudna while she was gone, while Imogen held her close, and now in this moment all she wanted was to reassure Laudna that things were okay and would be okay, all while reassuring herself of that. She also needed the reassurance that they were okay, too.

They sat there in silence for a moment. The wind blew gently through the otherwise calm evening air, their hair fluttering softly off their shoulders as it passed them by. A few crickets chirped mindlessly somewhere in the grass near the Sun Tree, just feet away from where they sat on their bench.

“Laudna?”

Laudna had been absentmindedly watching her fix her skirt when the call of Imogen’s voice brought her back down to earth.

“Yes, darling?”

“Can I ask you somethin’?”

Laudna now looked up at Imogen, meeting her eye. Imogen had a look of hesitation on her face now, a bit of worry lingering behind. “Do you remember…” She paused, swallowing her words hard, still having trouble even admitting what had happened. “Do you remember what happened in Bassuras?” Imogen began to shake now with nerves as she recalled that day herself.

Laudna took a deep breath. It had been several hours since she returned, and while her body had healed thanks to some of the magic that resonated from Pike during the rituals today, Laudna could still feel a sting, a sharp pain in her chest, like something that should not have been there still was; it didn't hurt, but it wasn’t a comfortable feeling by any means. She seemed to recoil a little as she exhaled, and Imogen worried that she had maybe crossed a line.

“I'm sorry, that—“

Laudna stopped her. “No, no, it’s okay,” she put a hand out insistently. “It’s you, I don’t mind. Plus, this is helping.” She lowered her hand back down, both of them now resting demurely in her lap. She closed her eyes.

“I remember fleeing from the Call members, and I remember fighting her.” Laudna opened her eyes, and looked over her shoulder toward Orym, Fearne, and Ashton. “I remember her knocking them down,” and glancing over at Chetney, “and going after Chet.” She turns back toward Imogen. “I remember her glaring at me, and then in an instant, she was right there in front of me…” Laudna blinks away a tear.

Imogen bites her lip in fearful anticipating, despite knowing what comes next. She wants to stop Laudna from talking, but she knows that she needs to hear it herself. She needs to accept that Laudna was dead. She looked down, closing her eyes, squeezing them tightly.

“I remember…” Laudna pauses, swallowing her feelings and trying to stop the tears, before pressing on. “I remember her stabbing me… then it went dark. I could hear Delilah, but she was faint, and I was confused” Laudna took another pause.

“The last I remember was thinking about you.”

Imogen’s eyes shot open. She looked up at Laudna, and in that moment, the moonlight from Catha shone from high above them both, illuminating Laudna as she sat there. She looked almost angelic, this beautifully scary woman, reawakened from the dead just a few short hours ago. Laudna was dead. But now she wasn’t. She was alive, back at Imogen’s side, back with all her friends. Imogen had cried for a week over her body, holding vigil while they traveled back to Jrusar. Imogen mourned Laudna more in this death than anyone had even gotten the chance to mourn for her first death, for Matilda.

But now here Laudna was, telling Imogen that in her last moments, she was thinking about her. When all was going wrong in her world, when everything was fading, it was Imogen that crossed her mind.

“I… I— You thought about me?” Imogen stuttered, not quite sure what to say. This was not how she envisioned this conversation going. What she was hoping to talk to Laudna about seemed so much harder now; she wanted to clear the air and claim responsibility and apologize, and explain herself, and try to fill in the gaps Laudna may have had. Laudna didn’t even know how they had escaped, there was so much to tell her. Perhaps this was a bad idea, maybe it was too soon, and Imogen had regretted bringing it up, but it was too late now because here she was, blindsided by the idea that in her last moments, Laudna was thinking of her. It took the wind out of Imogen and she began to tremble.

“Well, of course,” Laudna said as she began to twirl the ring on her finger, the ring that Imogen had purchased for her and given her in Bassuras the night they had made up, the ring of two entwined snakes with a beautiful ruby. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Laudna looked up from her ring, still toying with it between her fingers, and looked Imogen in the eye. “You’re my everything.”

Imogen had become overwhelmed with emotion and began to cry. She leapt up from where she sat beside Laudna, straight into her, wrapping her arms around her. “Oh Laudna, I’m so sorry,” she wept into her shoulder. “I’m just so sorry for everythin’.”

Laudna began to cry as she raised her arms and embraced Imogen in return. “Imogen,” she uttered behind choked back tears, trying to compose herself, unable to fight the emotions and ultimately letting the tears fall, rolling down her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop her, that I put you in danger, that I couldn’t save you.” Imogen broke down and cried harder now, before Laudna managed to pull her emotions in for a moment, breaking away from Imogen’s hug to look her in the tear-filled eyes, taking Imogen by her shoulders compassionately, softly, as Imogen tried to continue, “I tried to surrender, and I-“

“But Imogen,” Laudna interrupted her through her own tears now, “you have saved me.” Laudna smiled, a playful laugh showing through as the well of emotions continued to flow from within. It was a happy cry, a joyful cry. Years of held back feelings and emotions unleashed, now being let go. “You saved me that day years ago in Gelvaan, you saved me today from Delilah. Hell, you have saved me every day of this life in between.”

Imogen took Laudna back into her arms upon hearing this, hugging her tighter this time. She thought back to the resurrection earlier that afternoon, and the words that she had said to Laudna in her attempts to bring her back to them, to her. She remembered telling her that she saved her when she came into town, and if Laudna hadn’t shown up, Imogen didn't know how much longer she would have lasted. Could it have been that Laudna had heard her after all?

Imogen and Laudna sat there hugging each other for a few moments, comforting one another through their cathartic crying. After some time had passed, they continued to just sit there, Imogen leaning into Laudna as she had her arm draped around Imogen.

“You’re my everything, Laudna. I’m so glad you're home.”

Laudna squeezed Imogen as tight as her exhausted, meager strength could allow, as that last word lingered in her brain for a moment. “Home.” It was a strange word, one she hadn’t used in quite some time. Certainly not to ever have spoken of this city in so long, but with how much time Laudna has spent out in other parts of the world, always on the run, she hadn’t had a true place to call home in many years. She hadn’t even really thought about the last real home she had, the one that was left behind and destroyed during the Briarwoods’ reign, the one that the Bells Hells had seen a visage of in the shadow realm, since she was first resurrected all those years ago. She didn't need to think about it, though. Over time, she had learned that “home” wasn’t necessarily a place. It certainly wasn’t Whitestone. What she had just learned, however, was that “home” could be a person. For her, home was Imogen.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

The two of them hugged for another moment, their crying giving way to the more gentle sounds of sniffling and breathing as they calmed down. Imogen pulled away from Laudna first this time, needing to wipe her eyes, wanting to give Laudna an opportunity to also collect herself. Laudna pulled a handkerchief out from her pocket and passed it to Imogen, extending a courtesy that Imogen had so often offered to others. Imogen smiled as she took her offer and used this moment to regain her composure and dry her eyes. Laudna pulled out a second handkerchief and did the same.

They sat there in silence for quite a while underneath the Sun Tree, the moons glowing above them brightly. The sky remained clear, the stars twinkling here and there, and every once in a while a stray bird or bat could be seen flying overhead. Whitestone was asleep, just as it had been for many years now, peacefully.

In the background of it all, Imogen was relieved that the conversation had seemingly ended, as she wasn’t sure she had the emotional fortitude to reopen the wound one more time tonight and continue to further divulge what occurred in Bassuras, and then after in the wake of Laudna’s absence. Instead she figured she would let it go for the night, having gotten so much more than she had expected out of their conversation, but one she was glad to have had in the long run. She and the rest of the Hells can tell Laudna about the immediate aftermath sometime over the next day or two. It can wait at this point. After some time had passed, as Imogen and Laudna just sat there in one another’s silent company, Imogen reached out and grabbed Laudna’s hand. “C’mon, let’s go get some rest.” Laudna looked up at Imogen as she began nodding her head in the direction of the rest of their party, still sound asleep not to far away. Laudna nodded affirmatively and stood up first, helping Imogen to her feet. Laudna was about to turn and step away, still holding Imogen’s hand, when she stopped and turned back to Imogen.

“By the way,” Laudna said, as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Imogen looked at her, cocking her head to the side inquisitively. “You’re my favorite, too,” she said, blushing.

Imogen gasped, her cheeks turning red, as her heart skipped several beats. One more tear formed and fell down her cheek. She squeezed Laudna’s hand, before bringing it up to her lips, kissing the back of it gently. “Oh, Laudna,” Imogen sighed as she took a step forward and reached out to hug her once more, wrapping her arms around Laudna, standing on her tiptoes to deepen her embrace. Laudna returned the hug emphatically, picking her up off the ground and just holding her. Whether or not Imogen cast Fly on herself in this moment, she wasn’t quite sure, but nonetheless, the two of them stood there hugging for another moment.

Laudna set Imogen down and kissed her forehead as she did so. Imogen blushed and smiled as she took Laudna’s hand and began to lead them away from the Sun Tree, back to where their friends all lay sleeping.

As she lay down and tried again to fall back asleep, with Imogen’s arm draped over her, Laudna closed her eyes. She began to wonder if she would ever be able to come back here and call Whitestone home someday. Maybe with some time she will feel comfortable coming back to visit, perhaps with the right circumstances or situation. Or perhaps maybe not even then. Maybe this would be the last time she ever stepped foot in this city, for better or for worse. She didn’t know. She didn’t know what was to come, not in either the immediate or distant future, especially not with whatever was to come with Ruidus and what they were learning. But for now, just for now at least, none of that mattered. Tonight, she was back with her favorite.

She was back home.

#critical role #cr fan fiction #cr fanfic #cr fan fic #critical role fan fic #fan fic post #fanfic #text post #url post #southern gothic #imodna #imogen x laudna #imogen #laudna #limogen i guess #also posted on ao3 #fan fic #fan fiction #writing post