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tanjir0se · 9 months

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As the World Caves In--Part 1 of 2

Pairings: Rengiyuu Words: 2.3k/? Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Everybody Lives AU Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Canon-typical Violence, Medical Procedures, Blood

It felt like he was in a dream. No, a nightmare. Any moment now he’d wake up screaming, heart pounding in his ears until it settled back to a normal pace. Any moment now he’d be back in the mansion gardens with Rengoku by his side, wisteria on the breeze, warm from the sun and the sound of Rengoku’s laughter. All he could hear now was his own heartbeat, all he could smell was the sharp copper scent of blood. His entire field of view had gone red.

Summary: Giyuu was fortunate enough to be on a mission just South of the Mugen Train crash and the site of Rengoku's battle with Akaza. Now he's all that stands between Kyojuro and death.

Thank you to @babykirara for the amazing header she made for me that I can't stop using to decorate my various putting of Giyuu in Situations

UPDATE: read part 2 here!

Giyuu rarely put much thought into where Rengoku was headed on his missions. Being a Hashira seemed as easy for him as breathing, swordplay coming as naturally as the ease of his conversations. As much as he missed their walks in the gardens, their one-sided conversations, the hot flush on his face while they sparred in the training grounds, the idea of Rengoku facing genuine danger was foreign to him.

As for himself, quite a few times Giyuu had awoken in the Butterfly mansion, bandaged and bleeding and bruised, always with Rengoku waiting by his side. He’d chide him for his recklessness, extol his strength as a demon slayer, and offer to help him train during his recovery. Their positions had yet to be reversed. Rengoku was…well, he was Rengoku. The flame Hashira would return with a few scrapes here and there, but they were easily outshined by his bright-as-the-sun smile. It was easy to ignore them.

Until it wasn’t. Until that day.

Giyuu sheathed his sword and exhaled, watching the demon he’d just decapitated smolder apart, ashes drifting into the early dawn sky. He’d been on the case of a demon at a local theater for a few days when he’d received a raven with a letter from Rengoku, telling him all about the latest mission he’d been assigned to: investigating the Mugen Train. It never took very long for Rengoku to return from whatever mission he was on, so Giyuu figured he’d hear all about it once they both returned to the mansion.

The piercing cry of his crow nearly made him jump as he was turning to find his way back to the mansion.

“Backup urgently requested! Backup urgently requested!” His crow was screeching as it fluttered down onto his shoulder. “Flame Hashira Kyojuro Rengoku requires urgent assistance in his pursuit of the Mugen Train demon!” Giyu leaned slightly away from its shrill voice directly in his ear. His eyes widened.

“What happened?” He gripped his sword hilt with white knuckles. Rengoku never requested assistance, not in all the years they’d been Hashira together. His stomach clenched tightly, nearly painfully, Giyuu readied himself to run.

“The train has crashed just north from here! An upper rank demon has appeared in the fight!” The crow reported.

All at once Giyuu couldn’t breathe. His throat clamped shut, chest heaving, and all he could manage through the strangling grip of fear was three words: “Take me there.”

***

Giyuu could recall only one time he’d run so fast in all his life: nearly twenty years ago. Cold air had torn through his lungs but he hadn’t slowed. He couldn’t. The more distance he put between himself and the strangers he’d been left in the care of, the more likely he’d find someone who would listen to him. He couldn’t save his sister, but maybe if he kept running he’d find someone who could help him save someone else. The last thing he remembered that night was collapsing into the snow, exhausted, throat raw. In his exhaustion he remembered seeing her standing there, watching him with her sad eyes and raven-black hair. That was his last image of her.

He couldn’t save his sister. All his life he’d never forgotten that helplessness. Now, following his crow toward the ever-growing plumes of smoke on the horizon, he felt it growing in his gut again. Not him. Anyone but him.

The sun was beginning to rise as Giyuu came to the scene of the train crash. Aside from the murmur of survivors helping each other out of the wreckage, and the distant crackle of flames, it was eerily quiet. Whatever upper rank demon had been here would be long gone. The impending sunlight made sure of that. Perhaps Rengoku had simply defeated the upper rank before the sun rose, leaving the battlefield in silence. He certainly wouldn’t put it past him. And hoping was easier at the moment than despair.

A surprising streak of pink caught his eye in the shadow of one of the train cars. Giyuu jogged toward it, picking up his speed when he realized what it was.

“Nezuko.” he said stupidly, finding it to be the only thing he could think to say. The blond-haired kid that was always hanging around her was kneeling beside her with Tanjiro’s box open, ushering her inside. She looked up when she saw him, her magenta eyes glistening. The blond followed her gaze and gasped when he saw him.

“Mr. Tomioka--”

“Where is Rengoku?” Giyuu interrupted. The blond just shook his head at him, eyes wide with fear, and pointed toward a grove of trees on the far end of the wreckage. Giyuu wordlessly followed his direction.

He heard the sobs before he saw anything. The sky was thick and hazy with clearing smoke. Just over a small ridge he found a clearing before a large grove of trees. The ground was scarred with slashes from a sword, footprints in a fighting stance, trenches were a body had been blown back by some great force. The dirt glistened with blood, for a moment it was the only color in the gray-brown haze of smoke and dirt kicked up from battle.

Giyuu stumbled down the hill into the smoke. The sobs were getting louder, his chest was getting tighter, he doubted he’d be able to breathe even without the caustic cloud around him. After a few seconds of searching, Giyuu’s eyes fell on a flash of yellow, bright as the sun. Rengoku.

“Kyojuro!” Giyuu managed. Hope and relief carried him forward through the smoke, but he slowed once again when the full scene appeared before him.

Tanjiro, on his hands and knees, looked up at him as he appeared through the smog. Tears cut sharply through the grime and blood on his face. Behind him was the kid with the boar’s head, trembling violently, unable to look at him. Kneeling before them both was Rengoku himself.

“Kyojuro.” Giyuu said, ignoring the look on Tanjiro’s face, the blood, the smoke. Rengoku didn’t move. His haori spilled out around him, soaked from the waist down with a halo of blood. There was a long beat of silence before Kyojuro abruptly, grotesquely slumped backwards, deadweight, hitting the dirty ground with a loud but hollow thump.

“Mr. Rengoku…!” Tanjiro whimpered. “Please, Mr. Tomioka, help him!”

Giyuu stared, disbelieving. It felt like he was in a dream. No, a nightmare. Any moment now he’d wake up screaming, heart pounding in his ears until it settled back to a normal pace. Any moment now he’d be back in the mansion gardens with Rengoku by his side, wisteria on the breeze, warm from the sun and the sound of Rengoku’s laughter. All he could hear now was his own heartbeat, all he could smell was the sharp copper scent of blood. His entire field of view had gone red.

“Mr. Tomioka!” Tanjiro was shouting. Giyuu wasn’t listening. He was staring instead at his friend’s blasted-open abdomen, an ocean of red pouring out from the mangled flesh beneath his torn uniform. Something snapped inside of him, the fragile scaffolding he’d built around his heart shattering into pieces like Kyojuro’s body. Not him, not him, not him--

“Tomioka!” Tanjiro screamed. Giyuu blinked and found Tanjiro had stood and was tugging desperately on his haori. “Please!”

Giyuu looked at Tanjiro and inhaled. There he stood between his friend and oblivion. If he did nothing else for the rest of his life, he would reach into that oblivion and yank him back. Hands shaking, Giyuu finally moved.

Quickly but gently, Giyuu took Kyojuro--Kyojuro’s body?--by the shoulders and lowered him to the ground, where he hit the blood soaked dirt with a heavy and sickening squelching sound. Long ago, when his hands were too small to hold a sword and his body too weak to swing it, Urokodaki had made sure to teach him how to force a heart to beat, how to fill another’s lungs with air. How to reach into oblivion and yank someone back.

Back then he’d warned him it didn't often work, even when done perfectly. Back then he’d seen that firsthand, as he’d uselessly pumped the heart of a lifeless body crushed beyond repair. Giyuu remembered the blood soaking through the patterned robe and splattering onto the crushed kitsune mask beside him.

He couldn’t save his sister. He couldn’t save Sabito and Makomo. Kyojuro now stared sightlessly up at him, his eyes half-open and splattered with blood. Giyuu knelt beside him, placed the heel of his pale hand against Kyojuro’s ruined chest, and pushed down with everything he had.

Immediately he heard the crack of ribs snapping, felt them collapse inward like twigs beneath his hands. Giyuu sucked in a surprised and disgusted breath but continued anyway. He had to. He counted in his head the best he could but kept losing count as he watched blood flow up from Kyojuro’s chest and throat and onto his hands, soaking his uniform sleeves. Even counting took huge effort; all he could think about was his friend’s voice, his smile, the heat that came to his face whenever Kyojuro drew close to him.

1, 2, 3, 4–Ah, Giyuu! My friend, how nice to see you again!—6, 7, 8, 9–Hah! You always know how to make me laugh. I always enjoy your company.

Panting with effort, Giyuu found a rhythm, bending at the waist to throw his weight behind each artificial beat of Kyojuro’s heart. All those kind things Kyojuro had said to him and he’d never returned any of them. Not for lack of trying, and he knew Kyojuro understood…Each silent upward tilt of his lips, each time he drew a little closer, handed him something he was reaching for without him asking, remembered his order at their favorite Udon cart—I love you I love you I love you—but he’d never actually said it.

It wasn’t as easy for him as it seemed to be for Kyojuro. That strangling grip around his throat seemed to never lessen, and the harder he tried to summon the words to express what he felt, the further they retreated back into his. The tighter the grip became. He swallowed.

“Come on, Kyo,” he spat through his teeth and the tightness in his throat, far beyond caring if the boys heard or noticed his use of the nickname he’d never said aloud. “Please…”

When he reached thirty, or felt like he’d gotten to thirty, Giyuu stopped and leaned down, tilting Kyojuro’s chin upward, pressing his lips to Kyojuro’s and breathing into him. Kyojuro’s chest—what was left of it—rose with the breath and fell again. The air escaped his cold lips in a loose gurgle. Another borrowed breath, another rush of blood, another long and frightening silence. Giyuu came away tasting blood and resumed pumping his chest again.

He lost track of time. For that matter he’d lost track of space, too. The earth had fallen out beneath them. In that moment the only thing that could pull him back into orbit again was Kyojuro. He didn’t realize that the Kakushi had arrived and we’re taking over, not even when Tanjiro’s voice managed to reach him again.

“Mr. Tomioka…?” He was calling. Giyuu ignored him and continued. His chest was beginning to heave with coming sobs; they became so intense he could barely move or breathe. Still he continued. Someone else was calling his name. Still he continued. I love you I love you I love you.

“Master Tomioka, we will take over from here.” A voice said. His shaking hands were so soaked with blood they were beginning to slide off of their position on Kyojuro’s sternum. “M-master Tomioka, please…” Someone was pulling on his arm, pulling him back and away from Kyojuro. Giyuu set his jaw and tried to continue but the hands continued pulling into finally they managed to get him off of Kyojuro, though his eyes did not move from Kyojuro’s face.

“That’s enough, Mr. Tomioka.” Tanjiro was saying. The moment Giyuu stopped yanking against him in an attempt to get back to Kyojuro, Tanjiro released his arm and let him watch while Kakushi descended upon the scene, his vision blurred with tears he hadn’t realized had been falling from his eyes. The Kakushi swarmed him as they took over, their training clearly much fresher than Giyuu’s.

His breath caught in his throat as it ripped in and out of his shattered chest. Giyuu felt faint, he felt his own heart stop, ears ringing as if he’d just been in an explosion. His own ribs were imploding too. The cliff edge of oblivion stretched out before him, the reality of the rest of his life without Kyojuro’s smile. It was everything he could do to keep himself upright.

Through the haze he heard one of the Kakushi speaking.

“I have a pulse!”

Giyuu blinked. To his shock, Kyojuro’s chest was moving slowly up and down even without his intervention. Each exhale brought a small flow of blood from Kyojuro’s mouth, but he was breathing. His heart, somehow, was beating. The world resumed its spin.

“You did it, Mr. Tomioka!” Tanjiro whispered in disbelief. He watched them load Rengoku onto a stretcher and take off toward the medical camp they were still setting up. Tanjiro pushed himself into a standing position, wavered, tried to remember how to breathe. Beside him, Tomioka remained motionless on his knees, his face even paler than usual. “Mr. Tomioka?”

He was surprised into silence as Tomioka abruptly bent forward and vomited onto the bloody ground. Tanjiro’s hands hovered uselessly over Tomioka’s back, wanting to comfort him, too frightened to touch him, too worried he might vomit, too. Before he could decide what to do Tomioka jerked upright again and stood, shaking, blood dripping from his fingers.

Giyuu was not a praying man. It had never worked for him before. But for one moment, exhausted and faint and feeling the world tilt as it attempted to find its orbit again, Giyuu allowed himself to offer not a prayer, but a bargain.

If you let him live, I swear, I’ll tell him everything.

#DIDN'T I TELL YOU ALL I WAS GOING INSANE #WELCOME TO FUCKING WEDNESDAY BAAAABES #sorry babykirara i keep tagging you in my nonsense but your headers are so pretty and i Must put my Man in Situations #rengiyuu #kny #demon slayer #rengoku #giyu #AT THE RATE MY INSANITY IS MOVING PART TWO COULD ALSO BE DONE TODAY LMFAO #is it good? no. did i proofread it? also no. did i even have a clear concept of where i was going with this? no.#but! it's done and it sure is unhinged #enjoy my descent into madness #and as always...welcome to fucking wednesday

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violet-heaven · 2 years

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Okay folks, let’s talk rarepairs. The House M.D fandom, much like any other fandom, managed to get me thinking about ships other than canon ships. And my mind immediately jumped to ships that haven’t even met, as you do. Now, I doubt any of you are strangers to rarepairs. Certain ships have no canonical basis behind them but they’re cute and would be fun to think of!

One of my favourite ships that this fandom came up with is none other than Chase x Lucas — aka one of House’s Ducklings with the private detective he hired who inadvertently became his personal therapist to listen to him pining about Wilson. You’re probably thinking, “what the hell?? This has no canonical basis or reason to be shipped” and you’d be right.

BUT! I’m here to convince you. Or at least, coax you towards the idea that this is a ship that could work!

FACTS AND THEORY

Let's start with the facts. Chase and Lucas have only one canonical connection, that being House. Chase used to work with him but during season 5, he was no longer part of the regular team. Despite that, he had connections with House and also still worked at PPTH! Lucas on the other hand was hired by House to figure out information for him that House couldn't obtain (legally) and after some point, Lucas began to investigate Wilson to as per House's request.

Coming to the more theoretical aspects: Remember, the first time that House's team met Lucas was when he worked as a 'coffee machine repairman' in 5x02, Not Cancer.

Taub: He's a genius coffee repairman.

Kutner: Coffee repairman wears argyle socks? [Taub looks]

Lucas: I thought I already talked about not judging.

House: What kind of idiot wears argyle socks with construction boots?

Lucas: Uh, I'm not an idiot. I'm just… I'm not good at disguises.

Foreman: Who is he?

House: He's apparently a very bad private investigator.

This establishes that Lucas has been in PPTH more than once and as a private investigator, he's also probably gotten a lay of the land, knowing where everything is. And he also probably knows about House's teams. Which means that he knows who Chase, Foreman and Cameron are.

It's not too far of a leap to assume that he's done some investigating on his own -- or maybe House put him up to it, who knows? -- and met one or all of the original Ducklings. Going by this logic, Lucas could have met Chase in the hospital since as mentioned earlier, Chase still has a job at PPTH. My personal theory that they could have met during the same time as the s5 team meets Lucas as a coffee machine repairman.

Obviously, Chase has no idea who he is and assumes that he's been hired by the hospital, just like everyone else did. Lucas plays along to not get caught but there's no way he wouldn't at least have a brief idea of who Chase is in relation to House. His job as a PI has him investigate his employers, which includes House.

Right, so we've talked about a possible scenario where they could meet. How would their meeting go?

Well, I think Chase would figure out who Lucas was soon enough because as Lucas himself says, "I can lie. I'm just not all that good at it." Considering the fact that he wears argyle socks, he's a pretty obvious target to pick out in a crowd.

And I think their relationship would start out rocky. Chase wouldn't appreciate people investigating him or his friends despite investigation literally being Lucas' job and despite knowing that House would most definitely pull a stunt like this. Lucas wouldn't have the heart to lie to him further, but he's also not great with his emotions so he wouldn't be able to convey what he wanted to say properly (been there done that, Lucas).

Eventually, Chase would see him around the hospital and near his home, which would prompt a more forceful confrontation but the two of them would become friends... It'd just take a while.

HEADCANON ASPECTS

Alright, now we're entering headcanon territory. As someone who ships them, you can bet that I have a bunch of headcanons that align with my perception of the show and these characters. So keep in mind that these are not what you'll see on House M.D and that it's my headcanons (as well as a few of my amazing mutuals) !

First I want to establish a relationship between both Chase and House as well as House and Lucas because House is their connecting point, the only commonality in the show.

House and Chase have a very strong father-son relationship. I've always loved the idea that House assumes the role of Chase's dad, especially after meeting his real dad. So Chase is essentially his son, and the rest of the Ducklings are also his kids. Found Family supremacy

House and Lucas are good friends. Of course, Wilson is House's best friend but Lucas noticed how much House cared about Wilson and how badly he wanted Wilson back before even going to investigate Wilson ("You want to find out he's pining."). I love Lucas, and to give him a more prominent role on the show, I'm essentially strengthening his relationship with a lot of the characters, including House.

This line from 5x02: "She's not your type. Your type is much stupider than her." House says it to Lucas and it makes me laugh because I think he'd say that about Chase too.

For the sake of all of you reading this post, I'm going to end it here but expect more posts detailing this ship and a lot more headcanons! I'm also planning a fic to explain my version of their meeting and I'd love for people to start taking notice of this ship. Thanks for reading!

#house md #robert chase #lucas douglas #chase x lucas #gregory house #man this post got long #i've got a lot more to say about this ship though #folks we're at the tip of the iceberg #enjoy my descent into rarepair hell madness and don't forget to grab a bucket of popcorn on the way

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jtownraindancer · 8 months

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came for your writing but stayed for your burn tags

I have no idea when this was sent to me, but thanks anon ^_^;

#i... i am curious about which tags kept you in ^_^;#have you been enjoying my not-so-slow descent into madness anon?#man i need a tag for burn now fuck #anon asks #also thank you!!!#i do hope you like the place~

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theostrophywife · 7 months

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kiss with a fist | chapter one.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: kiss with a fist - florence and the machine.

author's note: i'm so excited to share this series with everyone. this was literally meant to be a one shot fic but i have no self control therefore it spiraled into a whole series. without further ado, please enjoy the first chapter and let me know what you think 🤎

Wit beyond measure is a man’s greatest treasure.

Intelligence, knowledge, wisdom. These were the traits that Ravenclaws valued most, but if the founder of your house could see you now, Rowena Ravenclaw would probably roll over in her grave.

Because there was nothing smart about falling in love with Theodore Nott.

In fact, it might be the most idiotic thing you’ve ever done in your entire life.

So why did it feel so bloody exhilarating?

To understand your descent into madness, it was prudent to trace the events back to point zero.

It was a rainy September afternoon, unusually dreary even for the Scottish Highlands. The first week of your return to Hogwarts had been chaotic to say the least. Between performing your prefect duties by showing the first years around the castle and dealing with the clueless third year that accidentally set off Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-bangs in the Great Hall, you were absolutely knackered by the time Friday rolled around.

Unfortunately, you had no time to rest. Even though the term just started, you were already spending much of your nights studying until your eyes felt like they were going to fall out of your skull. Tonight, you were in the potions laboratory tackling a particularly stubborn advanced draught. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t figure it out.

You dropped a sprig of wormwood into the cauldron and stirred counterclockwise then clockwise, just like the recipe instructed. The concoction bubbled to the surface. Holding your breath, you peered into the mixture with hope that this try would finally turn out successful. The potion turned a vibrant magenta color before exploding all over the front of your uniform.

Sadly, this was the closest you’d come to brewing the Angel’s Trumpet Draught. You sighed, wiping down your tie with a washcloth. It did nothing except make the mess worse. What you needed was a good old fashioned soak.

Luckily, you had access to the prefect’s bathroom on the fifth floor. During this time of night, it would be gloriously empty. Giving you the perfect opportunity to wallow in bubbles and self pity.

The trek from the dungeons to the fifth floor was fortunately uneventful. The hallways were dark and quiet, allowing you to slink off to the bathroom in peace. With a whisper of pine fresh, the pearly gates opened.

You turned on the faucets, setting the temperature just below boiling and dispensing herbs and fragrances into the tub. When you were finally satisfied, you quickly discarded your soiled clothes and eagerly stepped into the warm bath. The scent of rosewater and pink himalayan salt instantly relaxed you.

You sighed deeply, leaning against the marble tile and closing your eyes. This was definitely not the way you thought seventh year would go. Your last year at Hogwarts was supposed to be the highlight of your academic career. While your housemates fretted and fussed over quidditch games and blood moon balls, you refused to take your eyes off the prize.

Ever the diligent student, you had no interest in extracurriculars unless it brought you closer to your dream of becoming an accomplished potions master, which would hopefully catch the eye of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers. Joining the prestigious group was a dream that you had been working towards since first year. Blood, sweat, and tears had gone towards achieving this goal, especially during your most recent break.

You spent the entire holiday interning at the Brewery, attending lectures at the Magical Division of the University of Oxford, and you had not only completed the assigned reading for your Advanced Potions class, but Professor Slughorn’s personal recommendations as well. All of that hard work should have placed you ahead of the curve, but your class rank remained the same as always.

Second.

Not first.

Never first.

No, that spot belonged to that rich infuriating smartass pureblooded motherfu—

“Theodore Nott,” you said, lacing your voice with as much venom as you could muster.

Between the pale moonstone pillars stood the source of your academic anguish. Theodore was dripping sweat, his green and silver quidditch jersey covered in mud and grime. The prefect badge pinned to his robe was barely visible, more brown than silver. His curly brown hair fell erratically across his cheekbones as he brushed a stray strand away to squint in the faint light.

The side of his mouth quirked up into a smirk when he recognized you. “You know, most people just call me Theo.” His gaze lingered on your form, which was barely covered by pink suds. “Especially those who know me rather intimately.”

You flushed in response. Amusement danced in his watercolor eyes, which seemed brighter now thanks to his sun kissed complexion. Knowing Nott, he probably spent his summer laying out in the Italian sun while attractive witches fed him grapes by hand. You didn’t get a tan like that from holing up in the English countryside with nothing but a boiling cauldron and a dusty textbook for company. He didn’t even have the audacity to pretend like he was worried about his class ranking. The bastard.

“Every rule has its exception, Theodore,” you gritted out. “Now get the fuck out.”

He cocked his head, sending a mass of wavy brown locks to spill to one side. “You’re right. Most people don’t usually say my name like it’s an unforgivable, but I guess you’re special in that way, diavolina mia.”

Little devil, Nott's idea of a fond nickname, irritated you to no end. Your annoyance only made him use it more. Gods, what a wanker.

“Are you deaf or just thick? This bathroom is occupied,” you huffed, sinking lower into the bubbles. “Leave before I scream bloody murder.”

Theo smirked. “Oh, I guarantee you’ll be screaming.” He kicked his shoes off, leaving them in a messy pile beside your own neatly arranged boots. “Though the only thing I’ll be murdering is that pu—”

The glare you sent his way would have sent lesser men running for the Forbidden Forest. “I’m serious, Nott. I’ve had a terrible fucking day and I am not giving up the bath.”

“Neither am I,” he countered. “Practice was brutal. I ate shit on the pitch and all I want to do is to reap my prefect benefits via bubble bath. I’m afraid you’re just going to have to learn how to share, sweetheart.”

You watched in stunned silence as he peeled off his jersey. The moonlight streamed through the glass stained windows, painting him in a surreal sort of light. There was no ounce of shame to be found in Theodore Nott as he stripped off his trousers and stood stark naked in the middle of the bathroom.

Look away, you thought. Look the fuck away now.

But like a moth to a flame, you found yourself horribly drawn to the cocky, arrogant, son of a bludger. His tall frame cut an imposing figure in the dark as slivers of moonlight danced across his ridiculously toned chest and well-defined abs. He was neither brawny nor scrawny, but somewhere in the middle, which unfortunately happened to be your sweet spot.

To make matters worse, the smug prick seemed perfectly aware of your ogling. You could’ve sworn Theo flexed as he stalked towards you. Unlike most boys his age, he wasn’t awkward or bumbling. Theo was confident in his body. Too confident.

You sighed. “Can you at least attempt to be decent?”

“Why? It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before.”

As if you needed a reminder of this ongoing tryst between you. Theo waded to your side, leaning his head back as the warm water sloshed around him. His eyes fluttered close, those thick lashes of his kissing the top of his cheekbones. Water trickled down his collarbone and you had to fight the urge to lean over and lick it off.

“I told you, last time was—“

“The last time,” Theo finished. “I’m perfectly aware, principessa. You say it every time.”

“I mean it this time.”

He cocked his head, flashing those hypnotizing eyes at you. “Oh?” Theo drawled slowly, reaching out to brush a wayward lock of hair that had escaped from your braid. “Did my poor little Ravenclaw finally find the courage to say no to the big bad Slytherin?”

Your breath hitched as he pressed his lips against your throat. “Fuck,” you whispered.

“Go on then, love,” Theo hummed against your skin. He kissed the sensitive spot beneath your earlobe, making you involuntarily arch into him. Slender fingers wrapped around the base of your throat, holding you in place. “Tell me what you want, diavolina.”

You sighed in defeat. “Stop being an asshole and kiss me, Nott.”

Theo grabbed the back of your head and crashed his lips against yours like a man starved. After months of going without, you came to the horrid realization that you craved this as much as he did. You crawled into his lap, straddling him as he gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

I am a stupid girl, you thought. A stupid, horny girl who had no business snogging Theodore Nott.

One, you were bitter rivals. Two, Theo awakened a dangerous side of you that defied all logic. This whole fucked up situation started because of your lapse of judgment last winter. As always, Theo had said or done something to annoy you during class and in return you hexed his drink to taste like dragon dung. He retched for a week straight. Somehow Snape found out that you were to blame and placed both of you in detention.

One thing led to another in the potions classroom and you ended up with your skirt around your waist and Theo’s head between your legs. You quickly resolved that the only way to shut him up was to keep him occupied and occupied he was. Ever since then, the two of you had been at it like rabbits.

You thought that you would leave all of it behind in sixth year, but barely a week into this term and you were already repeating the pattern.

“I’ve been thinking about this all summer,” Theo groaned into your mouth.

“That’s cute, Nott,” you responded sarcastically. “Miss me over the holidays, did you?”

Theo rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Don’t act like you haven’t been thinking about this too. You’ve been testier than a Hungarian Horntail since the minute you got off the platform. I could tell that you haven’t been properly fucked since our little impromptu goodbye in the broom closet last spring.”

“You’re absolutely repulsing.”

He smirked. “Then why are you pulling me closer?”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up and fuck me before I change my mind.”

“You could say please.”

“I could,” you said with a shrug before gripping his cock and lining him up at your entrance. Theo groaned as you sank down into him with a satisfied little smirk. “But I won’t.”

The moan that came out of his mouth barely sounded human. “Fuck,” he said, burying his head in the crook of your neck. “How do you always feel so fucking good?”

You knew what he meant. As much as you hated to admit it, Theo was right. You hadn’t gotten properly laid since your last tryst. There had been other boys this summer, but none of them made you feel like this. Because sex with Theo wasn’t just sex. It was warfare. You fucked like you both had something to prove.

Even now, as you grinded your hips against him, Theo thrusted upwards with equal force like you were competing for the bloody house cup. You ran your fingers through his hair, frowning a little.

“What?” Theo asked.

“Did you cut your hair?”

He grinned as he trailed kisses along your jaw. “You don’t like it?”

“Less to hold onto.”

“Don’t worry dolcezza,” Theo chuckled darkly. He squeezed your thighs and pressed you against him roughly. “I’ll make sure to hold on tight for the both of us.”

You hummed in agreement before sinking down again, setting a steady rhythm as you rode him with reckless abandon. For someone who valued logic, every ounce of common sense you possessed went out the window when it came to this infuriating boy.

Maybe you were a masochist. But as Theo thrust sharply into you, the stupid little voice in your head said that you didn’t really mind the pain.

You moaned as Theo tilted your chin, capturing your lips with his. It was a clash of tongue and teeth as you fought for dominance, putting your bodies to the test. He knew exactly what buttons to press, which sensitive spots to hit, how to challenge you physically and mentally.

“Gods, right there.” You whimpered, digging your fingernails into his back. Theo’s hypnotizing eyes snapped to yours, piercing through every layer until you felt even more bare than you already were. “Don’t fucking stop, please.”

He smirked. “So you do have bedside manner after all.”

“Not for you,” you said as you grinded down hard, making Theo bite into your shoulder.

“Salazar fucking save me,” he grunted.

“Your founder can’t save you now, Nott.”

“Cruel, ruthless woman.” Theo looked up at you like he was praying to the stars. His movements stilled as your gazes collided. “Tell me you missed this. Tell me that no one else makes you feel like this.”

You whined at the loss of friction. “You’ve picked a shit time to get all sentimental on me, Nott.”

“It’s not sentiment, it’s the truth,” Theo declared, thrusting lazily. “And I want to hear you say it.”

“Why?”

“Call it curiosity,” he said casually. “I want to know if I measure up to the boys back in Oxford.”

Not even close, you thought. But you were not about to admit that out loud.

“Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

Theo chuckled before sinking his teeth into your neck. “But I’m not a cat, little bird. I’m a snake and I’m coiled around you ready to strike if you say the word.”

You shivered slightly. This constant back and forth, all the bickering and banter, was just you and Theo’s sick and twisted version of foreplay. Gods, you fucking missed it.

“Fine,” you grumbled. “Theodore Nott, you are an infuriating little shit but you fuck like an absolute demon. I missed sneaking around with you in the broom closet, the charms classroom, the astronomy tower, and wherever else we managed to defile in this bloody castle. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

The shiteating grin on his face almost made you want to take it all back, but then he flipped you over, laying you down on the cold marble tile and staring at you with so much lust in his eyes that you felt the depths of his desire in your core. He crawled over you, water trickling down his tanned skin.

“Close enough,” he remarked before hiking your leg over his shoulder and burying himself so deep that you clawed the edge of the tub to keep yourself from slipping.

The rest of it was a blur of skin on skin as Theo unleashed himself on you. His mouth, his fingers, his cock were all just tools of seduction that he wielded with lethal precision.

The pleasure washed over you in waves, crashing again and again as he made you cum not once, not twice, but a total of three times. By the time he reached his peak, you were so exhausted that the two of you collapsed in the dark.

You laid side by side, staring up at the domed glass ceiling in stunned silence. After a moment, Theo turned over to face you.

“So?”

“So what?”

“Did I manage to knock that stick out of your arse?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing off the tile. “And that’s my cue to leave.”

“I’m kidding. I’m good, but I’m not that good,” Theo teased, following closely behind as you put your clothes back on. He eyed the bright magenta stain on the front of your uniform. “What happened there? Did you murder some poor unsuspecting pygmy puff?”

“No, but I did a number on the potions lab,” you lamented with a sigh. “That stupid Angel’s Trumpet Draught is bloody impossible to brew.”

“That old thing?” Theo asked, pulling out a fresh set of clothes from his quidditch bag. “I finished it ages ago.”

You gaped, nearly tumbling over your own skirt. “How? I followed the recipe word for word and this disastrous stain was all I managed to achieve.”

“Sometimes you have to go off the book,” he replied. “Experiment a little.”

“No thanks, I’d rather keep all my limbs intact.”

“I think you’re doing a rather splendid job of endangering yourself all on your own,” Theo said sarcastically. He cocked his head as you slipped on your boots. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll show you how to brew the draught in exchange for a favor.”

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. “What kind of favor?”

“That’s for me to decide and for you to accept.”

“I’d rather not give an egomaniac a nuclear advantage.”

Theo rolled his eyes. “Do you want my help or not, diavolina?”

“Fine,” you said with a sigh. “But only because I’m desperate.”

“Words every bloke is dying to hear.”

Without a word, he tossed a mass of balled up fabric in your direction. “What’s this?”

“A jumper, an article of clothing generally worn to retain warmth in colder climates,” Theo deadpanned.

“I know what a jumper is, you tosser. Why are you giving it to me?”

“Because, you’ll get a cold walking around like that,” Theo explained with a longsuffering sigh as though you were a clueless first year. The corners of his mouth quirked up. “Plus, I can see your nipples through your blouse and as much as I enjoy the view, I doubt that flashing Filch is at the top of your bucket list.”

“You truly are appalling,” you replied, shrugging the slightly faded jumper on. The thing was so worn that you couldn’t even make out the inscription on the front. The fabric swallowed you whole, skimming the top of your thighs. It also smelled like sea salt and smoke and boy. One boy in particular.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He grinned, showing off those stupid little dimples of his. “Meet me in the potions lab tomorrow. Eight o’clock sharp, just like old times. And bring a muffin.”

“For the draught?’

“No, for me.” Theo said, holding the door open. “I’ll need motivation if I’m spending my Saturday morning with you.”

You slipped into the hallway and flipped him the bird. His laughter followed you in the dark like an annoying shadow.

“See you tomorrow, my little pygmy puff!”

Taglist: @annaisabookworm@marina468@yaraasthings @the0doreslover@bubybubsters@moony-artemis @natasha887@lucyysthings@criesinlies @bunnymallowo@niktwazny303@letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl@wordsarelife@clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar @mishtay @cherry-hoe @littlebookbengal @maybefoxysouls @nomup @aliensknowmyillusions

#your honor i love him and his filthy mouth #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott x y/n #theo nott smut #theo nott x you #theo nott imagine #theodore nott x you #theo nott fluff #theo nott fic #theodore nott fic #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n

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crawley-fell · 4 months

Note

Please god please HOW WAS MACBETH

Okay bestie lets get into it!! Obvs it's...literally Macbeth lol so I doubt i'm spoiling the plot for anyone here however if anyone reading this does have tickets and doesn't want to know anything about staging etc i suggest u avert your eyes now

Anon babes it was marvellous. David was so commanding?? he's built like a string bean but when he was up on stage he looked BIG and powerful. The character development was so nuanced, the descent into madness was manic and chaotic but eventually steady and calm - he literally snapped a little boys neck with his bare hands in the battle scene it was gruesome. I've seen one too many productions of Macbeth where its pretty much all pinned on Lady Macbeth being the brains behind the operation but it was very obvious from the start of this production that Macbeth had plenty of malicious thoughts and intentions of his own. He needed a little bit of convincing from LM but obviously your average person cannot be coerced into murder lol this man was out for blood from the START. Cush Jumbo was DIVINE and the perfect enabler, their chemistry was spicy and sensual and I loved it. They changed the script so that LM visits Lady MacDuff before the latter is murdered and its sooo good it makes Lady Macbeth so much more 3 dimensional rather than the usual evil witchy woman, it makes her human and Jumbo portrays her beautifully. It really was exciting for the production to be so intimate. The Donmar is a LOVELY black box theatre not many seats at all so you're very close to the action. This is my 5th time seeing DT on stage (prev. Much Ado About Nothing, Richard II, Don Juan in Soho & Good) and they've all been at big venues so it felt very different. The use of headphones was soooo good and it helped them keep the pace of the show (it was 1hr50 with no interval). Rather than dramatic asides like in the script the actors could whisper and it was RIGHT in your ear which made it feel very personal and dark like you were really in the character's heads. You never saw any of the visions (the dagger, the witches, banquo's ghost) which is how i always prefer it to be portrayed personally because you know... they're not actually there this man is just guilty AF and losing his grasp on reality!! But the sound effects they used in these moments were verrrry good and helped set the scene, lots of spooky music and sounds of screaming and whispering etc. And just generally through out the production you heard every. single. word. because of the headphones which was just delicious.

Final note because when u came into my inbox u were probably just expecting a simple 'yeah i really enjoyed it!!' and instead i've written a mini essay BUT in the battle scene at the end David really did win the award for most agile man in his 50s, he head-butt like 4 people and i was like...damn boy can u come over and fight me some time

#thank u for asking!! as u can tell i had stuff to say lol #ask #macbeth

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dulcewrites · 1 year

Text

Fool Me Once (part 4)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader (wc: 4.5k)

Summary: Your paranoia spikes as the safety of your children is put into question. Familiar faces come to King’s Landing as the fight for power continues to grow.

A/N: When I posted the first part, I had no idea this would be the response i get, let alone that I would be making multiple parts. I’m so grateful for all the support I have gotten, and I hope to keep writing hotd stuff y’all enjoy. This part will span events that happened in ep 8 of the show. Ep 9 and 10 will be part 5 🫶🏽🫶🏽. Hope y’all like it, and PLEASE come talk to me. Love chatting about fmo

Fmo masterlist

You tried to make it to your chambers without disturbing the party. Your father seemed confused by you sudden departure after Jayne pulled you away from him.

Ser Quinton insisted going into the chambers before you. There was a sick part of you that hoped she was in there. Waiting for Aemond; or better yet, waiting for you. At least if you saw her, you would feel less… mad. The descent to insanity may be held off by finally putting a face to worst time of your life. You think about the knife trick Quinton had taught you, and if he was right when he said it led to a slow death.

Your bottom lip wobbles when you walk into the room and see red. Alaric’s cot is smeared with blood. Whoever did this did not go to his nursery, they came here knowing you also have a place for him when he is extra restless in the night.

Quinton gives you a look. He can tell you are about to panic and reaches out for your arm. Lord Larys stands there, a dubious look on his face.

“You know it is quite rude to leave you own party. Mother told me to come get you,” Aegon strolls in casually with a lazy smile, and goblet in his hand. His smile falters when he sees the blood and the look on your face. “Seven Hells.”

“We need to tell the Queen,” Quinton pipes up after a beat of silence.

Your mind strays to what Alicent could have said to her son. What Aemond could have said to Alys. The woman that have haunted your thoughts for moon now being in Red Keep… in the room where you rest your head.

You look down at the bloody box, your hands stained red. Time seems to slow down and speed up as you think of what to do.

“This is your house sigil,” you turn to Larys ignoring Quinton’s request. “She was here. That bastard witch was here. She touched my child’s things.”

There’s a vibrating anger that courses through your body. It was not good enough to have your husband, or carry his child. Now she must resort to messing your child, to trying to goad you into a something.

Well, if that is was she wants…

Lord Larys raises a single brow, looking at the box quizzically. A normally self assured and smarmy man just as put out as you. “Maybe we should follow Ser Quinton’s idea by telling Queen Alicent.”

“Tell me what? The feast is about to start.”

Alicent’s rich tone cut through the room, and the four of you turn towards the chamber doors.

“What is all of this,” she gets a familiar furrow in her brow when she sees the blood stained box in your hands. Her doe eyes going from you, to her son, to Quinton, then to Larys before landing on the bloodied cot near the bed.

Alicent rushes into the room, and over to you. You watch as her face falls when she sees Strong sigil edtched in the box and Alaric’s blanket.

“This does not make any sense,” she mutters, shaking her head.

Your eyes flicker quickly over to Aegon, who has an I told you so look on his face. It sets in that any possible reprimand that Alicent gave Aemond was also met with giving him a chance to repair the situation. He had a chance to make a choice, and still chose wrongs. Your imbecile husband.

It is almost a joke at this point. He must really enjoy making you look foolish. That is the only explanation. Before you ask Alicent what she said to him during their talk, a flash of silvery hair at the door catches your eye.

There had been times you thought about killing Aemond. A slip of poison in the goblet, or smothering him with a pillow. Even more lately since you two share a room again. Not ideas you were ever proud of, especially when you thought about your children not having their father in their lives. Living with the grief of a dead father the rest of their lives.

But there’s something about this moment that makes you think you and your kids would be just fine without him. Just fine away from all these people.

“What is going on,” Aemond cautiously walks in, clearly apprehensive of the collection of people in the room. “Your parents are asking for us.”

“Aemond, you should go ba-,” Alicent starts. She is using the voice you have heard her put on when speaking to members of court. Collected and stern.

“This is your fault,” your voice trounces out hers. You move past Alicent and throw the box at his feet. “Your whore left us a gift.”

Aemond leans down to look at Alaric’s blanket. His shoulders stiffening instantly when he sees the box. He looks over at his mother. You have learned that they have their own little language through looks. A connection that can only be expected through mother and child. It only infuriates you more.

“She would not do this.”

Aemond shakes his head in disbelief, and you throw your hands up in frustration. The blood from them now starting to stain your dress. Your favorite purple dress tainted.

“Is her cunt so magical that it is making you blind in both eyes,” you hiss. “She came into this room, and soaked your son’s blanket in blood. Gods know whose blood.”

“My wife-“

You hold a hand up to stop him.

“You have already shown you have no respect for me, but if you think I am going to let your love affair with her effect my children, you are more foolish than I thought.”

Your eyes drifts down the small dagger around his waist. One slit to the throat is all you need. There’s a strange sense of adrenaline that runs through you.

A blood lust.

“We need to all keep our composure, fighting will do no good,” Alicent steps in between you two. “…. And we must remember our stations.”

She eyes you when she says the last part of the sentence.

“Before we jump to any other conclusions, let’s get one of the maidservants to clean this room up, and I’ll see to it that extra guards are sent to all the living quarters. We will discuss how to go forward after the feast.”

Alicent grabs Aemond’s arm in an attempt to pull him out of the room. Your vision blurs with anger. Jump to conclusions? Playing coy and hurt has gotten you nowhere. Your mother was wrong all those years ago; keeping your head is not the always answer.

“That is not going to work my Queen,” Alicent turns back around with a frustrated look in her eyes. “This a threat towards Alaric. And your son’s disrespect of his marriage is directly responsible; what other conclusion is there?”

She sighs before walking back over to you. Alicent takes your hand softly and lays the other over yours.

“Sweetling, do not let jealousy cloud your judgment,” the sweet tone of her voice makes your throat tight. “Anger will not change what happened.”

There is something about the way she is looking at you that reminds of when you used to go hunting with your father. A hobby you hated, but were forced to do when you were younger. You are the doe or wild sheep being toyed with before being slaughtered. Made submissive once the chase is too much to bear.

She hopes you will eventually grow tired of running. That you will take each blow gracefully… Just like she has, just like is expected of a dutiful wife. Is that not what sacrifice is; to become a cold carcass for the dragons to feed on.

Even with people on your side in the room, you have never felt so alone.

“He’s your grandson,” there’s a desperation in your voice that makes you feel so small. Your eyes move past her to Aemond. “He is your blood.”

Your husband is the one that set this all into motion, and you still have to be the one the beg for sympathy. Sympathy for you, and for your children.

“You know I would not want anything to happen to him,” Aemond addressed you with a low voice. Alicent nods in agreement. You bite your tongue that you taste blood.

“Fine, if you both want to make this right, we can do this my way,” you return the farcical sweet voice.

Alicent’s brown eyes darken a bit. As if she knows where you are going with this. You let go of her hand to turn towards Ser Quinton and Lord Larys.

“I want her gone… permanently.”

Quinton’s eyes widen a bit. There had been hushed whispers in the past. Funnily enough, your chivalric knight had the same idea Aegon did. Kill her before it gets too far.

“Sweet daughter, you are not thinking clearly,” the desperation that was once in your voice has now transferred to Alicent’s.

“She made a threat against the son of a Prince of the Realm. That is treason, and calls for punishment.”

“That is enough,” Aemond raises his voice. An unwavering glare pointed on your direction. “This discussion is over.”

You stare in disbelief as he walks out the room. Alicent looks as if she wants to say something, but just sighs and follows her son out. Lord Larys does not even give you a glance as we walks by, trying to catch up to Alicent. Silence permeates in the room, as you stare at the door. Foolishly expecting one of them to turn back around.

“We can figure something out,” Aegon finally speaks up.

A lump grows in your throat. You look down at the dried blood on your hands and dress.

“Give me the room please,” you mutter to him and Quinton. Neither of them move. “I need to change. Just please go.”

Your voice cracks at the end. They both have seen you cry before, more times than you are proud of. But there is something different about this time. More painful; more humiliating. You do not want to be seen this way.

“I will be outside if you need me,” Quinton says softly.

When the door finally shuts, your legs give out from under you. A sob caught in your throat as you take in the room. Your watery eye land on the chest full of dresses. Some a deep red, others vivid green. Pristine and pressed.

Your life sullied… just like your favorite purple dress.

The feast goes as expected. People dote on Daella and Alaric. Aemond and Alicent keep their distance; Alicent spares you sympathetic glances when she thinks you are not looking. Your mother does not seem to pick up on your discomfort. Your father, on the other hand, continues to give you puzzled looks throughout. Especially when you came back in a different dress.

There was a rush of relief that follows when your father suggest the children visiting your home. Anything that gets you away from King’s Landing is welcomed. Even if it is for a short time.

Your worries seems to get push to the side when news of Lord Corlys Velaryons declining health hits the Red Keep. The Queen, who already spends her days caring for a sick king, must now concern herself with the issues that arise from a sick lord.

Daella and Alaric have not left you sight. Much to her surprise and enjoyment, you even joined Daella in the Dragonpit and in the library for her lessons. The constant vigilance extends to them coming with you to the Grand Sept.

Jayne keeping them company, and Quinton watching on as you kneel in front of the candles.

There is so much for you to pray for, you do not know where to begin. Before you eyes can flutter shut, a voice interrupts you.

“I was hoping to find you here,” the familiar deep timber of Lord Hightower’s voice.

He kneels beside you with a gruff groan. Otto Hightower is not a man you speak with often, and by choice. An intimating man through and through.

“I am glad to see you are well,” he starts blowing out one of the incense sticks. “Especially after what happened at the feast.”

As Hand of the King, and now acting in place of Viserys as his health declines, it should not surprise you he knows. It is his job to know everything, but mentions of your behavior still makes you shift nervously.

“It is a shamed. What bullishness can bring; Aemond has always been too proud for his own good, even when wrong.”

You furrow your eyes, and turn to look at him as he continues.

“You and your children are very important to this family, especially now,” he says softly.

He means your money is important to him. He means the fleet that sits on the outside west of Westeros is important to him.

“So, if you still want that problem taken care of permanently. There are those that would be happy to find her and do that.”

Talk of murder in the sept… the irony is not lost on you. Killing Alys means possibly murdering a child. It was one the reasons why you felt so guilty about what happened at the feast. Larys had told you sick rumors, one about what she does to her children. Though your expectation of her are low, you can not imagine even her doing such heinous things. Her state leaves you utterly confused.

Your silence seems to give him all the answers he needs.

“I will leave you to your prayers,” Otto starts to get up.

Alaric’s babbling grows as Daella rubs his head while Jayne holds him. Your babies.

You grab Otto’s hand before he can fully get up.

“After the deed is done, bury her near Harrenhal. Let her be on her ancestral home,” you say lowly, eyes trained on your children before flittering over to his.

Otto gives you a head and a smile before getting up.

Targaryens take care of their own. It is time you do the same. The Mother will understand.

Aemond is tense, even more than usual. At first you thought he knew. That maybe he could smell the anguish on you. The suspicions of him knowing about you giving his grandsire the go ahead diminished when you learned that Rhaenyra and her family were coming back to the Red Keep.

With the Driftmark claim up in the air, the castle is expecting many visitors.

A part of you can not blame Aemond for being on guard. The history between the other side of his family is bad for obvious reasons. There will also be a divide and uneasy feeling now.

It is the anxious feeling that washes over when you see Prince Daemon walking towards you. Instinctively clutch Alaric closer to you, bouncing him as he begins to fuss. With all the self-assurance in the world, there is something eye catching about the bravado Daemon Targaryen has. His confidence would be a trait you admired if it did not often go hand in hand with his arrogance.

The last time you saw the Prince was at your wedding. A surprise to everyone, especially Alicent and Viserys. The joy Viserys showed when seeing his brother dimmed when Daemon made it clear he was not staying afterwards. Lady Baela and Lady Rhaena, his daughters, sending well wishes and gorgeous jewelry. Pearls from the Driftmark Seas and rubies earrings that you are sure from Pentos. Your family frequented Pentos during the summers when you were younger, the three of you crossing paths briefly during that time.

His appearance at your wedding was a confusing to both Aemond and you, especially since he came alone. No Rhaenyra in sight. A crude choice on the princess’ part your mother remarked.

“Ah there is my niece and my grandnephew,” his smile is bright. Brighter than you expected considering why he is here, and the state his brother is in.

You were expecting a cold reception, one to the match the treatment they received. You exchanged a knowing look with Aegon when all of you were told not to greet them on their arrival.

A fake smile fights to replace the furrowed look on your face.

“Prince Daemon, I hope your trip from Dragonstone was well,” you catch how his eyes instantly go to Alaric in your arms. The Godswood is quiet except for you two, and the sound of chirping birds.

“Would have been smoother on dragon back,” he shrugs. “I am glad to see all is well.”

He holds his arms out expectedly. You blink at him, and his blinks back; realizing he is not one to back down, you gently hand over Alaric. Alaric tiny hand reaches out to touch the shiny material of Daemon’s coat.

Daemon resolves brightens even more when Alaric is placed in his arms. You know him and Rhaenyra have had children, with one on the way. You wonder if that positive disposition has been shown to Baela and Rhaena. Or even to Rhaenyra’s other children.

“He looks like his father,” he gives you a sly smile. This time you can not try to muster up a fake smile. “How is he, your husband?”

He is goading you. Even from the handful of times you have been around Daemon, you know he likes playing these games. Riddles and leg pulling; he likes knocking people on their asses. It is the warrior in him.

“He is doing well,” short and sweet, the best way to go you think. Daemon gives you smirk in return. As if in his head, he is laughing at a joke that you are clearly not in on. You tilt your head in confusion.

“That is good to hear,” he does nothing to squash the curious look on your face. The uneasiness comes back. Thankfully before it can go any further, Helaena calls your name from across the garden, stating that Daella wanted to show you something. You can tell by the smile she gives you, it is a lie. You are once again reminded of why you are eternally grateful to call her sister.

“Duty calls.”

His tone is light but his eyes say something more. What they say is something you are still unsure of. He hands Alaric back to you. As you walk away, you can feel his eyes on your back.

The fleeting happiness you got from seeing Baela and Rhaena came to a screeching halt once the petitions are heard the Great Hall.

Who held the throne of Driftmark after Lord Corlys eventually passes was of no consequences. Everyone knew this was for something bigger. To call Lucerys Velaryon’s claim into question meant calling his mother’s as well. There was a sense of disappoint that tugs at you when the doors swept open to show a hunched, and rotting Viserys. His ability to prioritize Rhaenyra over his other children should not surprise you, but as a mother it still makes you upset. You can’t imagine not fiercely defending both of your kids equally. You see the looks on Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena’s faces; it tells you everything, more than the look on Rhaenyra’s.

You raise a brow at Rhaena from across the room when her grandmother announces her and her sister’s betrothals. She shrugs back at you. You want to let out a sardonic laugh. Another generation of girls bound by what good for their parents, bound by what will be good for others.

Thoughts are broken by Lord Vaemond Velaryon’s angry words ringing out. His actions may not be what you have done, but you understand his ire. There is a irony to House Targaryen, one that fiercely protects its own blood to the point of incest, snuffing out another house.

Daemon has a look in his eye. Much like the one he gave you when he asked about Aemond. He is itching for a reason to say or do something. Vaemond gives the perfect opportunity.

Loud gasp fall over the Great Hall when Vaemond body and head hit the ground… separate from each other. Both Helaena and you instinctively turn away in shock. You do not consider yourself a squeamish person, but there is something about it that makes your stomach churn. Aemond’s hand goes to yours, and he squeezes it. You can’t remember the last time you two have held hands.

It could be the obviously grotesque nature of it all. Or how inconsequential lives seem to those who get in the way of this family. It makes you think of Alys. Are you like that now? Years of being in this family making it easy for you to digest moving pieces on a board?

Vaemond’s body gets carried out, with Rhaenys following closely behind. The Queen Who Never Was; life riddled with loss, and now her good brother can be added to the list. You wait for Aemond to let go of your hand, but once Rhaenyra and Alicent finish watching Viserys leave the Great Hall, she sets her eyes on you.

“I was hoping we could have tea,” she eyes Aemond who makes no effort to move from semi in front of you.

Rhaenyra is a hard person to say no to, and she clearly knows it. So, when you simply nod, she gives you smile. She holds out her arm for you to take it. As you two walk out of the Great Hall, you look back. You expect to see Aemond or Aegon looking at you, but instead your eyes catch Alicent’s.

A sad look of longing etched into her pretty face.

“They are darling,” Rhaenyra remarks in a hushed tone as you two watch Daella interact with little Aegon and Viserys. Alaric resting near the two of you.

Jayne had made sure tea and mini tarts had been brought to the Princess’ chambers.

“I am secretly hoping this one is a girl.”

She smiles softly at you, rubbing her swollen belly. You know she must crave that bond between mother and daughter, especially after the untimely death of her own.

“I was surprised you wanted to have tea,” the small talk was sweet, but you knew it was leading to something else. Your walls up even more after your conversation with her husband.

“I was worried that you might have took me not coming to your wedding as… a slight on you,” she starts. “That was never the case. I just felt that it would be best for me and my children to stay away.”

Outside of the snide comment made my your mother and Alicent, her absence did not concern you. You keep that you think Aemond was happy she was not there to yourself. It had been years, and you could count on one hand how many times you thought about it.

“Jacaerys was quite upset with me,” she laughs a bit. “I think he wanted to see if it was actually happening. Uncle Aemond getting married to pretty girl from court.”

You did not return the laugh. You knew little of her oldest boys, the only things you have heard came from Aemond and Aegon. Not positive representations you are sure.

“As we move past that, I want to say that if you need anything, I am here. If you need any help… any advice or a place to stay. You are welcome at Dragonstone.”

The words make your wandering eyes snap to hers. Rhaenyra gives you a look. The Realm’s Delight sitting across from you in all her glory. Her form of intimidation is different from her husband or her half brothers. A presence that is hard to come by, and even more difficult to replicate.

They know.

You don’t know how, but they do. They are dangling it in front of your face. Taunting you, and your crumbling marriage. Showing weakness at this point will do you no good, not until you have proof or an explanation.

“Thank you Princess,” you lean over to pick up Alaric gently. You need to get out of here. “If I need any advice on fickle men, I will come to you. I know have your fair share of experience with that.”

Rhaenyra’s confident look flatters a bit. She hums softly.

“Daella love, let us go see how grandmother is doing,” you pick an excuse to leave. The mention of Alicent makes Rhaenyra frown. Her light eyes darkening with sadness.

As you leave the the Princess’ chambers, it comes to you. How the hell did Aemond and Alys even meet?

You have seen first hand that being around her grandchildren is the only time Alicent happy. Unabashedly sweet and warm; dimples on full display. The two of you had not had a real conversation since the feast, but you knew better than to keep your kids away from their grandmother. It was the quickest way to anger her.

“Rhaenyra would not do that,” her tone reminds you so much of her son. So certain, as if it was an insult to question the virtue of the people they… love. “Maybe she actually wants to help.”

“They both know. I cannot explain it, but they know about Alys or they at least know she was here.”

Her shoulder slump as Alaric reaches out to touch the large seven pointed star dangling from her neck. Alicent’s ability to defend Rhaenyra will always leave you a bit speechless. If one of the boys ever said something disparaging about their half-sister, Alicent was the first to give them a warning look. She was allowed to be upset, they were not. A fractured relationship being held together by longing.

“I understand it…. How hard it is,” you shuffle closer to her. “Having your mind consumed by someone who does not extend that same grace for your feelings.”

“I did not think she would go after the children,” Alicent whispers. “I get why you would want her…”

She trails off. Her big eyes get glassy, and she swallows thickly. She does not say anything as she looks into fire. She reminds you of a painted tapestry. Beautiful and tragic.

“Princess Rhaenyra may not have orchestrated anything. But do we put it past Prince Daemon?”

“We will figure it out,” Alicent says after a bit of silence. “You are right, something is off.”

A thought comes to your mind. “Do you know what Prince Daemon for Aemond as wedding gift?”

Daemon never got you a gift, simply giving you the ones Baela and Rhaena sent. But you vividly remember him getting Aemond something. Alicent thinks for a second for her brows raise in realization.

“A book of stories about warriors from the across the Realm,” how was he putting that to good use, “Oh, a map of the red keep. I silly wedding gift if you ask me.”

She shrugs. Your eyes go to fire to. A map seems inconsequential enough, but as your growing paranoia seeps into everything it becomes clear.

You must find this map.

Tag list (sorry to anyone I miss): @callsign-blue @hydrationqueensworld @flowerpotmage @giulia2372 @lol-im-done @dc-marvel-girl96 @iwanttohitmyself @crazylokonugget @xkennobi @tiddieshakeshownu @lwqfhp @lyra689 @ietss @enbywan @rialikesbts @lyannesworld @mendes-bae @123forgottherest @yentroucnagol @cecespizza01 @mihrimahsultan03 @hotd-fic @the-time-is-a-thief @kaicyl @ly17 @bbylime @stella-cadente @bellameshipper @happinessinthebeing @shamelessblazecrown @whodis-26 @queenofshinigamis @minthermie @aloneatpeace @psychadelichues @oh-thats-cute @vgucciking @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @zondereleutheromania @liathelioness @msmarvel-19 @archikina @lady-stark-winter-rose @dcfamily5807

#aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #hotd imagine #aemond targaryen imagine #my writing #house of the dragon #black!reader #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen angst

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genuineapoptosis · 11 months

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Eyes on you (Sub! Obsessive! Miguel O'Hara)

Characters: Obsessive! Sub!Miguel O'Hara x Nb!Reader

Themes: sub/dom dynamic, stalking, masturbation, guilt

Lenght: ficlet

Could've made it more fucked up. Maybe part 2 idk

It's always the ones that portray themselves as superiors that end up being the most sick. Though, for the most part, they do not happen to be aware of it. Unfortunately for him, with Miguel O'Hara, this simply wasn't the case.

Perhaps it was because his descent was so gradual. That with every single step he took, he knew he was doing it willingly. He knew his actions were strange and he knew his behavior should never be shown to the world. So, for the longest time, he tried to rationalise it. Over and over and over again. And after he could do it no longer, he was too far gone not to accept it.

It started off slow. It always does. You had joined the spiders. He took interest in you. Workspace crushes are nothing new, after all. Wanting to spend more and more time in your vicinity was a normal action in such a state.

Of course, that lead to your promotion quite early upon your enrollment. But you were good at what you did. Ungodly good. So nobody would even think it was caused by ulterior motives, when you had yet to have an unsuccessful mission for the two months you had been with them.

Perhaps that was one of the first reasons he liked you. You worked hard and then fucked off. No lingering, no afterwork chats. You'd do what was required, and then simply disappear. An air of mystery around you.

It drove him mad.

Soon enough he started holding meetings. Standard thing in such a field of work. He'd go over the organization, schedules, tech updates, and the likes with you and other higher ranking individuals. For the most part a tedious, yet expected thing.

Not to him though. To him, those were the few rare occasions outside of missions where you'd actively engage with everybody. But most importantly, you'd actively engage with him. And he was so very thankful for that.

He very much loved the sound of your voice. They way you spoke had a certain ring to it that he couldn't get enough of. He'd run your words through his head on repeat when on his own. Every time you had used his name. Every time you laughed. Though none of it was as good as the real thing.

Slowly, the meetings became more frequent. With fewer and fewer members invited. Until it was just the two of you. Everyone had accepted the fact that you had simply become his right-hand man. And for the time being, they had yet to have a reason to think otherwise.

You'd gotten closer to him than you were expecting. Perhaps that was because he was one of the few people you worked with whom you didn't find bothersome. It was very apparent how exhausted he was menaging everything on his very own. The least you could do is provide your help. And besides, you did enjoy holding power over other people that you wouldn't have without his apparent devotion to you.

On his part, that same feeling was amplified. He was alone with you for hours on end. So close to you yet not enough. Everything you did made his heart speed up. The smell of your perfume. The look in your eyes when you were deep in thought. Oh, and how he loved it when you'd take care of anyone trying to interrupt. Having them end up looking like a small child as they leave the two of you alone once more. How that sort of state came so naturally to your being. As if you simply demanded control just by existing.

He needed to know more about you. About your history, about your interests. Though, that was a normal thing. After all, he wanted to be able to hold better conversations with you. What other way is there to it, than to try and know every last thing about your being?

He starting going into your files. What you had done in your universe. Why you were such a force of nature in combat. Oh but how it made his stomach turn when he had gotten to your past lovers.

God, they were all so revolting and useless. Nothing compared to you. You shouldn't date someone so below your league! You shouldn't date someone so worthless! You should date someone made for you. You should date someone like-!

He was surprised by his own resolve. He has yet to crack.

You were analyzing data from one of the more recent multiverse anomalies. Calling him over the give him the watch from a spider who had gone MIA. Looking at him with those gorgeous eyes of yours as you explained the situation. None of the actual words entering his mind, just the sound of your voice. Handing it to him, you had let your hands touch his.

Fuck...

He turned around immediately, trying to hide how disgustingly hard he was just from that single touch.

You were to be excused. Immediately.

Unaware of his current state, you had simply left the quarters. Knowing his usual temper, you had assumed he just had one of his episodes after they lost one of their men due to incompetence.

If only.

No. No, this was no good. Up until now, he could deny his feelings. But now he had such apparent evidence.

He should be better than this. He should act accordingly. Not get aroused by your mere touch.

But it was so gentle.

You were always so gentle with him. So helpful and patient. Yet you didn't want him. If you did, you wouldn't have left. If you did, you'd spend time with him outside of meetings. If you did, you'd see right through his facade.

He had to be satisfied with just your smell, your laugh, your distant presence. But it wasn't enough. How ever could it be enough?

When he wanted you to wrap those tender fingers around his throat. When he wanted you to tell him how you knew everything.

He began palming at himself through his suit. Thinking about you ridiculing him for being a stalker. For the way he isolated you from everyone just so he could have you for himself. He was pathetic. He wanted you to tell him that.

Just use him up any way you'd want. He wouldn't mind. He deserved it. Sink your teeth into his flesh, leave marks deep enough to bleed. Hurt him or humiliate him. It wouldn't matter. As long as he gets what he deserves.

He pictured the way you'd look while fucking him. Those same eyes focused on him, now filled with a different sort of spark. You'd tell him what the others would think if they were to see him like this. A pathetic mess unable to string words together. Getting railed until he can't function anymore.

He was close. He needed it so bad. Why won't you give it to him? Why won't you show pitty on him? Hasn't he earned it?

He'll do anything.

Just fuck him.

He came into his suit. Shame overflowing him as he did so.

He left immediately. And if he were any better, he'd act as if none of this ever happened.

But he wouldn't be able to. Not when it felt so good cumming to the thought of you.

He already had plans for tonight.

#my writing #sub!miguel o'hara #sub miguel o'hara #dom reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spider man: across the spider verse #atsp

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georgiapeach30513 · 1 year

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When I Hear Your Name

Summary: You should have never left. Things were perfect.

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit, dark, explicit language, explicit sexual content, depictions of PTSD, kidnapping, somnophilia, non con/dub con, degradation, bondage, fingering, squirting, creampie, pussy plug, breeding kink, holding people captive, cheating, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2.7K

Steve Rogers Masterlist

A/N: My entry for @the-slumberparty Week 1 Challenge. My random generator theme was ‘Descent into Madness’ and the setting was ‘Military’.

Steve Rogers was a lot of things; he was strong, charismatic, a natural leader, righteous, handsome, sweet, and stubborn. He was different before he went off to war. He was always about making you giggle. Holding you tight when you got scared. His sweet lips nipping at every inch of your skin. His body had yours memorized.

Things were harder when he came back. There was this odd quality about him. He wasn’t mean, he was just…distant. It was like he was living from afar. Never completely present with you. He didn’t talk to you. Barely looked at you. He was just there taking up space.

Once upon a time he showered you with gifts. Even if you didn’t have much, Steve managed to get that diamond bracelet that you had eyed for years. Surprised you with his own homemade bouquets of flowers. It became a weekly thing to see these adorable, if not crudely put together, flowers. He tried, and that’s all you cared about. Even would hand deliver them.

His romance was gone, as was his will to enjoy life. There was no passion behind his actions. He was but a meat suit with little to no emotions. No excitement, no love, no passion. It was infuriating. It was worse seeing Steve like that. You couldn’t explain it. Couldn’t make sense out of it. And you felt yourself losing your joy everyday.

You tried getting him the help he needed. Tried to be there for him, but it wasn’t enough.

“Moonbeam,” Bucky whispered in your ear as the two of you watched a blank Steve staring up at the ceiling, “you don’t deserve this.”

“But…I love him,” you look up at Bucky, and only then does Steve stir. His eyes glaring straight at his best friend. “He doesn’t deserve this either. Bucky, what am I supposed to do? He barely eats or sleeps. Won’t go to therapy. Won’t talk to me. I want our life back.”

“Have you ever thought it wasn’t coming back?” Steve sits up in the bed, and you flinch, taking a step towards him.

Bringing your hand to his cheek, he sighs, leaning more into it. This was proof he was still in there. He always leaned into your touch. You pet around his face, giving him a tearful smile when he looks up at you. Opening his mouth, but no words came out. It was heartbreaking to see this great man become a ghost of his former self. No smiles were ever present on his beautiful face. He was lost.

“Moonbeam,” Bucky says again when you turn to leave. Steve’s feet bounced his legs around, but you couldn’t do it anymore. It was eating away at your soul. Your hope was nearly dwindled down to nothing.

“Moonbeam?” Bucky races out to grab your arm, “Where are you going?”

“Back home, Buck. I can’t,” you cry up at him, giving him a tight hug. Blind to your boyfriend’s darkened eyes peering at the two of you. “I tried. He’s never coming back is he?”

“I don’t have an answer for that.”

“I hope he does. I hope he finds himself. But I can’t do this. I can’t see him like this anymore,” giving him a kiss to his cheek, you leave everything behind. You didn’t need a reminder of how happy your life was. How many dreams you and Steve had made come true, and how many you were still waiting on. You wiped your hands clean, and it was the hardest thing you had ever done.

“What did you do?” Steve screams as he races towards Bucky. “She left me, and it’s all your fault!” He knocks Bucky onto the floor, crawling over him to slam his head into the floor over and over again. “You did this!”

“You did this, Steve! She wants you, and you won’t fix it!”

“I can’t.”

——

“You got another package,” the girl at the front desk snips, smacking her gum, feigning annoyance. “You know the boss is mad about all these personal deliveries.”

“They’re not personal when I don’t know who’s sending them,” opening the box, you gasp at the forever roses that were supposed to keep for over a year, and one in the center was a pure gold rose.

‘I’ll love you until the last rose dies,’ ugh, so cliche. If this was for you, he didn’t know you at all.

“You have no idea who’s sending you these,” she smacks her gum right beside you, and you have to silently count to ten.

“Nope. Not even dating. Probably someone gave them the wrong place of work. Throw it away,” you didn’t care about gifts anymore anyways. You didn’t care about love or happily ever after. You cared about peace, and yourself. You vowed to never fall in love again. And you wouldn’t

“Some man just spent hundreds of dollars and you think he doesn’t know who you are?”

“Nope. Clearly a mistake.”

“Your name is on the address,” giving you an incredulous look. She believed you were bullshitting her and everyone in this office. “No man is going to go out of his way to do this, along with flowers every Friday, if he wasn’t sure it was you.”

“What?” You stop in your tracks, turning back to look at her. “What did you say?”

“You get flowers sent to you every Friday,” she blows a giant bubble with her gum, and you march back to the box, grabbing it up. “So you know who sent them?”

“Nope,” you lie. It wouldn’t be Steve. This was a cruel joke. You hadn’t heard from Steve in a few years. These weren’t hand delivered like Steve did it. They had it all wrong.

You go out the back door, and slam the box into the garbage. Your chest heaves with frustration. “God, I can’t get away from him.”

“Because you weren’t meant to,” before you can scream, someone’s thick hand has been placed around your mouth as he drags you into a van. You try kicking and screaming. Try for anyone to get your attention, but it was useless.

“Any second now,” your assailant grunts as your vision goes blurry. “There ya go,” he hums, watching your eyes flutter close. “Sweet dreams, Moonbeam.”

——

Your eyes pop open quickly, as you blink your vision back into view. Tugging at your arms above your head, and your feet, but you were not going anywhere. Hands tied above your head, while your legs were spread eagle. Taking a deep breath to keep from crying, you look around.

“Welcome home, darling,” Steve says sweetly, walking into the bedroom with a glass of water. “I worried that you weren’t going to wake up. It had been too long. Your pulse was still steady. You must have needed that extra bit of sleep.”

“Steve, what are you doing?” Your voice was hoarse, like you had been screaming. “Why am I naked?”

“Why are you asking questions? You’re home, you should be happy. Look, I’m talking to you again. I tried sending you flowers, you didn’t thank me. I had plans to hold you while we walked on the beach and talk for hours, but you didn’t call. Had this big night planned for a romantic dinner, and then to take you dancing, but…yeah, you didn’t reach out to me. So, I had to do what I had to do. We’ve traded diamond bracelets for leather cuffs,” he gives the binds on your wrist a little tap.

“And they look so pretty on you. Water?” You shake your head no, but he lowers a straw to you anyways. “I suggest you drink some water. You’re tired,” with his free hand he slaps at your core, chuckling when you yip.

“What have you done?”

“You took too long to wake up. I wanted what you promised was mine,” you cock up your eyebrow, needing him to go on, “You said that your pussy belonged to me. So I took it.”

“You fucked me while I slept?” You growl up at him. Disgusted that this was the man you had once loved.

“Yeah,” he answers easily. “It’s my pussy. It was just glistening with your juices. If you weren’t turned on why were you so fucking wet? Face it, Moonbeam, that cunt was made for me. So I gave her what she wanted. You needed a good hard fucking. You were pitiful. You still say my name in your sleep, too. You know that?”

“Who was driving the van?”

“Hmm?” Steve smiles, looking down the expanse of your body. Cupping your mound, moaning at the feeling of you, “Still wet. You’re a slut for me, you know?” His hand slides up and down your split, and you try not to react, but damn if it didn’t feel good. He knew your body. Steve studied your body like he was being graded, this didn’t change.

“Who was driving the van? There was someone else. Was it Bucky?” You croak, letting a desperate mewl rise up out of your chest.

“Why do you care so much about fucking Bucky?”

“I didn’t say anything about fucking Bucky. I asked who was driving the fucking van,” Bucky was a sore subject for him. His hand moves a bit faster. A bit too hard on your sensitive nub. “Steve,” you whine, anything had to be better than this. “Steve, I wanna feel you.”

“No, you don’t. You’re asking about Bucky.”

“No. I…uh…I just wanted to know who was with you. But…all I want right now is you. I forgot what you felt like, and,” you bite at your lip as the pleasure starts to build up. Getting a devilish smile from Steve. He slows down his motions more, and you whimper out his name. “Steve, I can’t remember.”

“I’ll make sure you remember. I’ll make sure you feel me for a month. You’ll take a step and be so sore that you’ll know my cock was buried so deep in your greedy little cunt.”

“Yes! Yes, that’s…that’s exactly what I want. Steve,” you breathlessly answer when he takes off his shirt. Silver scars crisscross over his arm, and you can’t stop staring at the odd pattern of them.

“Steve,” moaning out his name when he jerks his pants down. His cock springing free, looking just as godlike as him. Dripping of precum, and he crawls in between your legs. Rubbing his tip through your arousal before slapping his cock over your clit. “Steve!”

He continues playing with you, until strings of sticky arousal connect the two of you, and you jerk at your cuffs, needing to feel him. “Yeah, you get forced to take whatever I give you,” he laughs as you try to bring your thighs together. “Pathetic. Trying to deny yourself an orgasm,” he tsks at you, changing to slapping you with his hand.

The sharpness was sending euphoria that you had never felt through every inch of your body. Flowing through you like your blood. Continuing until you were screaming out his name, and he crams two fingers into your tight channel. Curling his fingers as he stabs into you. There was no time to rest as he chases another high for you.

Your cunt was making the most vulgar squelching sounds that made his eyes roll into the back of his head. The noise echoing through the rest of the house, and Steve hoped he heard. “Just. Let. Go,” he demands, letting his calloused fingers hit over a sensitive spot in your core.

“It’s…it’s….there she fucking is!” Steve screams as you squirt onto his chest. Your juices being catapulted to your stomach, and still he didn’t stop. “One more time. Then I’ll give you what you need. Go…on,” he pulls his hand out while you soak his thigh.

At lightning speed he had his cock driving into you. Hips thrusting his fat cock in your warmth. You were already speaking in tongues. Head tilted back as you worshiped at the altar of Steven Grant Rogers. My god, he was hitting every single spot that you had. This wasn't sweet love making. This was an urgent need to have you say his name like a prayer screaming off your lips. A deep desire to destroy you, break you, so that you would never leave him again.

More arousal spews out from around his length as you clench down. Your walls missed him. And they were hugging him tightly. So tight you start to see stars. “Don’t you give out on me. I missed your pretty eyes! Missed the way you looked when you were taking my cock. Look at you…right where you were made to be, taking my cock. My little sexdoll. It’s what you were designed for, huh?”

You give him a head nod, trying to catch your breath. It was too much. “I told you to drink your water. Maybe next time you’ll listen. Molded to my cock. Gonna keep you in here so I can play with you whenever I want, Moonbeam. I do miss the way you scratched down my back though. Just like you’re doing with your hands.”

It was true, you had your hands in a fist so tight, your nails had brought blood to your palms. “Fuck,” Steve growls, railing into you harder. “One day, when you don’t try to leave me, I’ll let you ride on top of me. Okay? Let that pretty little ass ride on my dick.”

“Steve!”

“Yeah, I know. I know, you missed me just as much as your pussy. I mean, my pussy. She was always mine, wasn’t she?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” You scream out again as he drives into you hard. Making your body jump up the bed. You felt him in your throat, and you wanted more. “Steve!”

“I know! Right…there!” One more final thrust has you both coming hard. Your creams mix together as Steve tries to catch his breath. “Beautiful. Now,” he groans, pulling out of you. His hand shoves up against your ruined cunt and he reaches over to the bedside drawer, grabbing a plug that he shoves into your mouth.

“This is extra important,” he drags it down your body before removing his hand, and pushing it into your sex. “There, that will keep that in there while I take care of something. When you have my child, you’ll never want to leave. We’ll become a family again.”

He kisses you hard on the lips before leaving you in a state of partially awake, and halfway asleep. Walking down to the basement where he sees the chair, and two angry glowing eyes. “See? I told you she wanted me. Now, I’m going to take your muzzle off and feed you. When she stays freely, I’ll let you go. Hey!” He shouts when Bucky snaps his teeth at him.

“Is that anyway to treat me? I know you two had something going on. This is to make sure you never think about fucking Moonbeam again.”

“It’s an expression. I didn’t mean I wanted to fuck her.”

“Liar!” Steve shouts, clenching his fists together. “She even said fucking Bucky.”

“I’ve never touched her!”

“Eh!” Steve holds up a glass of water with a straw, “Comply, soldier. Quit fighting it.”

“You’ve gone fucking mad, Steve. Let her help you.”

“I am,” Steve’s mouth turns up into a creepy smile as he puts the straw to Bucky’s mouth, “She’s going to give me babies. I have my cum waiting in her snatch right now. She’ll never leave. And neither will you. Not until you comply,” there was no use. Bucky knew that Steve would keep him here until he gave him what he wanted. It was over.

“Steve!” You scream from upstairs. “Steve, please, don’t keep me here! My parents have…they have…Steve! I have somebody who needs me,” Steve slams the glass on the ground, knocking Bucky’s chair over.

“What was it that you didn’t do again?”

“I didn’t know, Steve! I didn’t know!” Setting him back up right, Steve stomps up the stairs. “Steve, let her go! Steve!” Was the last thing Steve listened to before slamming the door closed, leaving Bucky to wonder, and Steve to brood, while you prayed you could get out of this. Maybe. At least this time you had a reason to fight, and a bigger reason to leave. He could never break you.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @softsatnin @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bambamwolf87 @harrysthiccthighss @navybrat817 @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

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animentality · 4 months

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Can I just bitch about Baldur's Gate 3 for a second-

JK, I'm not fucking asking.

So Ketheric Thorm...got an entire fucking act basically DEDICATED TO HIM.

The Shadow Cursed Lands suck because of him. Everything in that zone is fucked because of his nonsense. Every enemy you fight is either related to the shadows or the Absolute plot, which, as far as you know at that point, is tied directly back to him, and him alone.

And every fucking person you meet, rounds him out in some way.

Thisobald, Gerringothe, Malus, these are all unique looking and fun bosses. And they all round out Ketheric Thorm, showing us his fucked up family, and how terrible their impact has been.

Balthazar, Z'rell, even Aylin and Isobel- all thematically and narratively tied to our Shar/Myrkul worshipping bitch.

Even Halsin and Thaniel, Minthara and Shadowheart...all of them have ties to Ketheric.

And that's great and all. That's probably why I, unlike many others, actually enjoy Act 2 a fair bit.

But then. We get to the dreaded Act 3.

Which is a bloated, disorganized, incoherent mess.

But worse than that is... Gortash and Orin are our next big bads, yeah? And they have a kind of fun intro, that makes you think ooh, the next big bads...

And then.

And then what happens?

You can kill Gortash immediately, pretty much at the beginning of Act 3. No build up. You can just do that. Sure, you can do the Steel Watch or the Ironhand Throne quests...but tell me.

Could you just go up to Ketheric Thorm and kill him at Moonrise? The answer is no. Even if you skip a lot of content, you still have to go through a million other tasks before you can face him, AND the big boss battle at the end is entirely him and Myrkul. It's EARNED.

But Gortash? Well, fuck, he's fucking dead before you can even face the final big boss.

And Orin? Sure, you have to collect a bag of hands to get into the Temple...but so what? That's maybe two or three quests, but you can circumvent them. Besides, as soon as you kill her, she vanishes from the narrative and doesn't matter. She's a somewhat easy boss battle, but the actual build up isn't intricately tied into the narrative of Act 3...because there is no inherent narrative to Ac 3.

Act 2 was about an insane man's descent into villainy after losing the people he loved most.

It was tragic, but at least thematically consistent.

The fuck is happening in Act 3?

Gortash is committing war crimes because he's tyrannical, and Orin is murdering indiscriminately and just for funsies.

at least Ketheric's entire thing is about defying the gods, using them for his own gains, and similarly, being used by them.

But Orin? She has one sympathetic scene, and then she dies immediately after.

Gortash you can just kill and then he doesn't matter, or you can side with him, and then he just dies, and doesn't matter.

It's utterly baffling and mildly infuriating.

I know Act 3 was hit with the cut content rush and all, but I feel like you could've spent your time actually bothering to build them up the way you built up Ketheric. You could've given us political quests or world building quests with Gortash, especially given how manipulative he is, or given us more madness and shadows and underground labyrinths and spooky monsters with fucking Orin.

Instead of garbage quests like the Wavemother, Mystic Carrion, Stop the Presses, and Lady Jannath's Torture House, you could've given Karlach a quest related to fixing her heart, which would've tied into Gortash's plots, or given Gale more to do than simply go to Sorcerous Sundries, or tied Cazador to some kind of patriars plot, or had Wyll's father do more than be kidnapped and then later saved.

You could've given Halsin literally any fucking quest, instead of bringing in Jaheira or Minsc. But most importantly.

I just don't get it. Gortash runs Baldur's Gate. You could've easily tied him to a lot more quests, and made him far more threatening or hard to take down. You could've also made Orin feel like an actual threat, and not just a mild nuisance.

It's just kind of...it irks me.

Not just as a Gortash stan, but as a writer, because it's so odd, to have 3 perfectly decent villains...and only flesh out one.

The other two might as well be optional mini bosses.

#enver gortash #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #ketheric thorm #orin the red

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violet-lazer · 10 months

Text

First Kisses : Papal Edition - Secondo

Content / Warnings : Secondo/Reader, Mature (Language, Suggestiveness), Gender-Neutral Reader, 1.5k words. Thanks, please enjoy! (AO3)

Your first kiss with Secondo.

With a good amount of trepidation coursing through your veins, you lift your hand to the door of Secondo’s office and give two firm knocks, attempting to ignore the knot in your stomach as you await a response. After a moment or two, his voice rings sharp and clear through the wood-panelled door.

“Enter.”

You gather yourself and push open the door, taking a few short steps into the room. Secondo, seated at his desk, clearly in the middle of some paperwork, lifts his head to meet your gaze. Placing his pen down, he steeples his fingers and leans forward slightly as he addresses you.

“Ah. Welcome. Do you know why I have summoned you?”

“No, Papa,” you lie.

Even underneath his paint, you see him quirk an eyebrow. He hums, reaching into a drawer, retrieving his phone and placing it on the surface of the desk, screen facing you. He beckons you to come closer, and you reluctantly oblige. Reluctantly, because you know you’re facing your own oblivion in bright illuminated text. Since last night you’ve been living in desperate, foolish hope that what is currently happening might not happen. As you lean in close to assess the damage, a small, involuntary groan escapes you. You’re looking, as you knew you would be, at the message thread between you and Secondo on his personal, private number.

This was Terzo’s fault. You’ve been known to blame many of your personal problems on Terzo, but this one was indisputable.

“Personally,” he’d said, leaning over to purr into your ear as the two of you watched Secondo conduct mass, “I think you should tell him.”

From your latecomers’ vantage point at the back of the chapel, you’d torn your eyes from the altar, from Secondo, and looked at Terzo incredulously. Oh, here we go. Terzo is doling out romantic advice again. Perfect.

“I don’t want to do that,” you’d said. You don’t. You do.

Terzo had rolled his eyes at this, and tutted condescendingly.

“Have it your way. I would advise doing something to halt your descent into madness, though. When I am battling my feelings-”

“What feelings?”

“When I am battling my feelings,” he continues, “Here is what I do. I draft a little paragraph on my phone. I go into excruciating detail about my wants and desires. Let it all out, you know. I imagine sending it to them. And then I delete it. It is almost as good as an honest conversation.”

“Right,” you’d said dismissively, fixing your attention on Secondo at the altar once again and ignoring your quickening heartbeat. What a silly idea.

And there you were just a few hours later, lying on your bed, phone aloft in front of your face, typing furiously in the text box below Secondo’s name. The content of the messages between the two of you before tonight had been consummately professional- indeed, he’d only furnished you with his number last week due to the number of errands you’d been volunteering to run for him of late. But what you were writing here was the absolute antithesis of professional. You’d paused to assess your work. Utter filth. A culmination of every idle thought, every active fantasy you’d had about the man in the months since you’d first laid eyes on him.

You wonder how he’d respond if he could see this, if he only knew. Would it take him completely by surprise? You’ve been so, so well-behaved around him. It’s been nigh impossible for you to figure out how you’d even approach the idea of flirting with Secondo, and the embarrassment of being knocked back may just destroy you. So you’ve simply not bothered to try. But Lucifer, what you’ve thought.

Satisfied, you’d pressed backspace, holding your finger down and watching your most depraved dreams disappear before your very eyes-

And then you’d dropped your phone on your face before you’d finished, hitting you square on the nose and making your eyes water. Scrambling to pick it up, you’d turned it over to see something that made your heart drop out of your arse. You hadn’t finished deleting. And you’d pressed send. Possibly with your nose, which was impressive.

Immediately, without even registering how much of your message had made it to Secondo, you’d done the only logical thing and turned your phone off in a panic. When in doubt, deny. Perfect strategy. Hey, maybe you’d even get away with it.

As you look at Secondo’s screen, it becomes apparent you haven’t gotten away with it. Until about twenty seconds ago you’d been clinging onto a vague hope that the letter of summoning that had been pushed under your door this morning was concerning…literally anything else. Alas. Your crime is staring you in the face.

More specifically, what is staring you in the face is your own words. You suppose it could have been a lot worse, really. Most of the evidence was gone, and what remained-

Papa, I need to tell you how much I want you to p

“When I gave you my number,” Secondo says, dragging your attention away from the screen and back to his stare, “it was for business, not pleasure.”

“I know, Papa. I’m sorry.”

Even if you could play it off as the start of a message that wasn’t about what you wanted Secondo to do to you, you absolutely can’t excuse the fact that you’d sent it at half past eleven at night. Absolutely inappropriate for a work-related enquiry.

Secondo barely acknowledges your apology, merely continuing to hold your gaze. You fall into an uncomfortable silence.

You reckon you could make a clean exit if you vaulted out of the window. Enthusiastic sprint, hand on the windowsill, over and out. Secondo’s office is only on the second floor, you’d probably be alright. It would be preferable to this.

After what feels like an eternity, Secondo speaks again.

“Well?”

“...Well?” you repeat slowly, somewhat at a loss.

He leans back slightly in his chair, exuding nothing but sheer, relaxed confidence.

“Well? Does that sentence have an ending?”

It does. It has a very creative ending. Is he…asking to hear it? The thought simultaneously thrills you and terrifies you. There’s not a chance you can repeat what you wrote so unashamedly last night, not to his face. Not when he’s looking at you like that.

You nod. It feels less committal. Secondo tilts his head just a fraction.

“It seemed very important. If you want something, you should be direct about it. Here, I will go first. I want you to tell me the ending to your sentence. And I want you to be honest.”

Ah, fuck. At present, you don’t think you have the capacity to lie. All you can think about is…

“It said,” you begin before you can help it, “I need to tell you how much…I want you to push me against a wall and kiss me.”

You’ve done it now. There’s a wave of adrenaline crashing over you, a mix of nerves and sheer exhilaration, and your hands are trembling. You realise you’re holding your breath. Secondo’s response causes you to exhale sharply.

“And is that a sentiment you stand by this morning?”

“Yes.”

“Close the door.”

Without thinking, you obey, turning to retrace your steps. As you approach the door you hear the scrape of Secondo’s chair on the floor; when you push on the heavy wood you count footsteps behind you. The door shuts. You turn. Secondo is right behind you, and still he barely slows his pace as he closes the last remaining distance between you. You let him back you up against the door, and in an instant his mouth is on yours. Secondo kisses you fiercely, tongue pushing into your mouth, his body pressed hard against you. You kiss him just as relentlessly, sinking back against the door, desperate to feel Secondo’s weight pinning you where you stand. Gloved hands find your hips.

Eventually, you part, breathless. Secondo’s eyes are ablaze as he looks down upon you, and it might be the delirium talking but you could swear he has the faintest suggestion of a smile playing across his lips. He leans in, giving you one gentle, final kiss. Then, he shifts, taking a step backwards and releasing his hold on you. You miss the pressure.

“I would say it is worth being direct, hm?” he says. “Next time I expect you to be more forthright.”

“Next time?” you say, still bracing yourself against the door. There’s a chance your legs might still give out. Secondo hums.

“I will permit you to contact me outside business hours,” he says. “As long as you are confident in your desires. As long as you are…explicit.”

He reaches past you to grasp the doorknob, waiting patiently for you to peel yourself off the door before easing it open. Politely, he gestures to the corridor beyond.

“You are dismissed.”

You nod shakily. The past ten minutes have been something of an adventure. As you cross the threshold of Secondo’s office, you hear his voice, soft, behind you.

“I look forward to your next message.”

So do you. As you make your way back to your room, you pull out your phone and finally turn it back on. You’ll show him just how explicit you can be.

#the band ghost #the band ghost fanfic #secondo #secondo x reader

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16bruises · 10 months

Text

Remembrance

word count: 903

Part 2 to Descent

important information for writers who use google docs

Miguel drowns in a man-made ocean of hurt

“There is no grief like the grief that does not speak”

-Henry Longfellow

For the longest time, I felt like a voyeur. I watched a man who I shared my face with live the life I’d always wanted. I watched every beautiful moment, every sad moment, every quiet moment, every moment I could.

I had been so sure that every Miguel O’Hara in the multiverse was destined to suffer. But this one, this lucky cabrón. He had everything. He had a perfect life. A beautiful wife, a beautiful baby, everything was so god damned beautiful. I couldn’t help the resentment, the jealousy I felt towards this man.

Then that fateful moment…

I could’ve blinked and missed it…

It happened so fast and that man I shared a face with was gone.

But I remained. I couldn’t just watch anymore, I had to do something. The man I had once shared a face with wouldn’t be there to protect his wife or baby girl. But I could. Like nothing even happened. Who would want the mother of their baby to suffer and mourn their loss when a near-exact clone could be there? I loved them so much already.

My precious Gabriella and (y/n) never noticed I had stepped in for the man I shared a face with.

Every day with them was so perfect. I loved my beautiful wife and daughter. They were everything and more. I would’ve done anything for them.

I wish I could say I did everything I could to save my family. But I know I didn’t do enough. (Y/n) made it, I still could’ve done more for her but still- she made it. Gabriella… oh Gabriella. My baby girl. I didn’t save my baby girl. She was in my arms one moment and then she was gone.

Her own mother doesn’t even know she’s gone. I didn’t do enough, I don’t deserve to feel bad for myself. Yet I can’t help the gut-wrenching grief that consumes me every day.

I wish I did more for my baby girl, I wish I did more for my (y/n), I wish I did more for their world.

I often find myself wishing that their Miguel hadn’t died. Wishing my Gabriella’s father wasn’t taken from her without her ever knowing. Wishing (y/n)’s Miguel hadn’t made a simple mistake that cost him his life with her.

I love her more than he did though, I know I do. I fell for her before she was mine and I fell for her again every day once I got her. Her Miguel made a small but fatal mistake. He died and left her. I won’t let myself die, I won’t leave her.

The day (y/n) and Gabriella’s world was destroyed was the worst day of my life but I know someday soon it’ll have some competition for that title.

(y/n)‘s glitching gets worse every day, it’s only a matter of time until her body can’t handle the glitches anymore. That day might be worse.. but I’ll enjoy the moments I have with her until then. I’ll figure out which moment was worse once she’s gone.

If (y/n) knew what I did to that boy- Miles. I think she’d be more mad at me than she was before her world ended.

God, she screamed at me while I forced that dimensional travel watch onto her wrist. She couldn’t even look at me. I told her everything, she knew I wasn’t her Miguel, I wasn’t her baby’s father, and I was an alien in her home. She knew I watched her husband die and then took his place. She knew I had watched them live their beautiful life. She knew I fell in love with her through a screen in another universe. Yet, she still trusted me to protect her and Gabriella.

It’s horrible but it’s probably for the best that (y/n) doesn’t know that Gabriella is gone. I don’t think she’d be able to function if she remembered what happened. I wish there was someone else who remembers the moments I had with her and our Gabriella. But I’d rather have my (y/n) still love me, hold me, and talk about our baby girl like she’s just at school or soccer than have her know that her world ended and Gabriella is gone.

This situation… it’s too much. She wouldn’t understand. She couldn’t. It’s starting to seem like nobody completely understands the importance of maintaining canon.

(y/n) definitely wouldn’t. I don’t know how I could even explain myself to her. I admit, I went too far.

But Miles- He’s the reason Earth 42 doesn’t have a Spiderman! He’s the reason his Earth’s Peter Parker is dead! He’s responsible for anomalies across the multiverse!

He doesn’t- I should’ve explained better. I should’ve spoken to him one on one.

But that boy was never going to understand! The moment he found out what NEEDED to be done to protect his universe from total destruction he was never going to agree! There was nothing I could have done. Miles was never going to listen to reason.

He’s already caused too many problems-

Who knows everything he’s caused?! He could’ve sped up (y/n)‘s glitches!

She could be gone faster because of him!

I’ve accepted that she’ll be gone one day, but I will NOT LOSE HER SOONER THAN I HAVE TO.

ESPECIALLY NOT BECAUSE SOME ANOMALY WANTS TO BE SELFISH

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plutoisaghoul · 6 months

Text

Team Red POV Summary of Purgatory Day 1:

(Attention: Very Long post this is literally a summary of 6 and a half hour of Vods. I‘m delirious now but I hope you enjoy.)

• Team Leader: Philza Team Name: Team Bolas??!??

• Team gets spawned in a Savannah Biome

• They seem determined to win at the beginning but also are very aware of the fact that the odds are stacked against them with the amount of players missing

• They break out of the dome/spawn area to find more resources

• Slimcicle gets killed first by BBH, he was trying to find the volcano location on his own, and his descent into madness begins slowly

• Phil travels by boat to different spots and finds the furnace glitch also the terrain „glitch“

��Jaiden, Cellbit, Foolish and Baghera are gathering resources on the main island

•Carre is off also gathering a ton of resources (he did hold the one braincell for most of the time) and doing his thing

•All of them besides Carre hide their location on the map

•Slimecicle developed a skill in espionage by Discord Voice Call Chat Hopping

•Finds out that Blue Team is gunning for Carre because he was the only member of Team Red that didn’t hide his location on the map and he was on his own

•Spanish speaking Cellbit enters and warns him about it so he hides his location

•They decided to the Good and Bad Chest strat and Carre return with a bunch of resources for the team

•Foolish started a wheat farm that got destroyed when BBH and Tubbo(I believe?) attacked the camp

•Both BBH and Tubbo got killed by Team Bolas and the smell of blood is lingering in the air

•They are more then ready to kill at this point in time

•Things are looking up for them for a period of time as they come up with the plan of going to the volcano dome and essentially trying the Technoblade „making Bingo into a PVP game“ strat

•Their main target is Team Blue because Team Green (as far as my knowledge goes off of other livebloggers) have no sense of direction and can’t find people

•Carre is the PVP MVP of Team Red and stacking up the kill count

•Slimecicle is the designated Man in the Chair for Team Red and actively trying too figure out how the percentage system works with the help of Cellbit

•They figured out that when it comes to the Global Tasks (the tasks that you submit to the Volcano Dome) are only really useful if hold it last when the server closes or you level up the tasks to the point where it becomes increasingly more impossible for the other teams to submit the amount of items needed (so you technically still hold it when the server closes)

•Once one of the Global Tasks is submitted they reset in about 8 to 10 minutes with an increased amount of items (kind of like villager trades work)

•They take out a view members of Team Blue and steal the Resources needed for some Global Tasks

•They decided to camp the dome for the cool down of the tasks meanwhile Foolish, Baghera and Phil are trying to farm for the Carrots, Potatoes and Apple tasks

•Charlie got caught spying on Team Blue but still got the vital information that they need to also gather the farming tasks

•Thinks started to look up for Team BOLAS??!??

•Charlie decided to spy on Blue again although he already got caught once

•Baghera finally got an Apple from an Oak tree (I don’t know if it would be possible to craft apple trees on Purgatory or if the decided to remove the mod for that but it would have been infinitely easier to bone meal the apple tree than punching all the leaves from oak trees) meanwhile Foolish mistakes a golden nugget for a potato (This quest is kicking their ass real hard)

•Cellbit got killed by a Nightmare Stalker Phil got fucking flashbacks to the nightmare with Chayanne and Tallulah

•They are also constantly running out of food too

•They find out that you can’t claim the missions you have already done on the Global Tasks

•Phil describes to the Team the Cheese Strat of the default terrain and ship looting

•Carre reports an enemy looting Cellbits dead body it was Jaiden though lol

•Team Red says everybody has to die even Missa (Missa is on blue team but hopped into Red teams call on Discord to tell them that he loves them)

•They also talk about how stressed they all are like they think it’s cool but it’s stressful(I think it’s first day jitters of being in the Purgatory)

• „This event is going to bring out the worst in me“ - Charlie Slimecicle

Phil like a menace in the background YES *evil laugh*

•They talk about the fact that their team is actually not THAT bad at Pvp because they have Carre, Phil and Foolish and Cellbit talks about training Pvp

•Bad arrives at the Dome they are not concerned though

•Charlie designated Man in the Chair is running the numbers on the percentages and reports to the team with not good news: „I think it’s who holds it at the end“

•“So it appears that the meta is cocks“

•They are making the Strat of grinding a shit ton of the materials needed for the Global Task, figure out when the Tasks run out, and turn in the materials when they are about run out of time to hold it in the end

•Blue Team arrives at Global the voice call turns into panic (it’s Tubbo, Pierre and BBH)

•Foolish gets frustrated at the lack of potato drops by killing Zombies

•Charlie is infiltrating Blue Teams Voice Call again while he’s malewifing loaves of bread at there Spawn area

•Blue Teams Voice Call reveals that they are trying to engage Red in a fight at the Dome

•Tina let it slip that it’s a good thing that Bad, Tubbo and Pierre are out at the sphere distracting them from coming to their base and possibly destroy the farms (That slipped over Charlie’s head)

•Tubbo catches Charlie in their VC

•meanwhile the rest of them seem to be grinding for the tasks still

•Roier jumps into Red Teams VC to get their coordinates (Green Team is stacked with people good at PVP but very bad at directions) Cellbit replies with „Just follow your heart“

•Carre and Roier seem to be insulting each other? (I don’t know Spanish that well but since there was a lot of Pendejos in the sentences it seems like it)

•Baghera just now figured out that she can make an apple tree (seems like they didn’t remove that mod on Purgatory)

•Blue Teams turning in some tasks they decided to engage in a fight

•Pierre was killed by Foolish he is stealing the 12 potatoes off his dead body

•Blue Team retreated after that

•Foolish decided to bone meal the potatoes so he has more than the 12 needed for the task to be able to grow more

•Charlies voice is fucked up and Baghera is almost finished with the apples

•Charlie after making a bunch of bread back at Spawn decides to rejoin the Team at the Sphere to drop of the food and water for the rest of them

(Authors Note from me we are incredibly near the descent into madness of Team Red everything has been pretty chill so far but things are going to ramp up quickly for them)

(( also I just noticed that Baghera did the apple quest near their base so that’s totally my fault for getting it wrong))

•Jaidens Chat calls Charlie „Momcicle“

•A Death Message in Ingame Chat of Pierre appears and Baghera decides to teach the team the word in French for „when you’re happy that someone has bad luck“ (In German that would be ‚Schadenfreude‘ or being ‚schadenfroh‘ which literally translated into English would be ‚damage happy‘ FUNFACT)

•They are talking about the fact about how good they are doing right now

•After being lost Green Team arrived at the Sphere the VC turns into panic mode

•This is where they start to unravel

•The first to be killed is Carre he was slain by Roier

•Etoiles and Bagi are trying to flank Jaiden

•Etoiles is actively chasing Jaiden

•Meanwhile Baghera was getting chased by Tubbo on her way back to the Sphere with the apples but Charlie got there in time

•Cellbit was killed by Fit also he ran out of food

•Fits trolling him in InGame Chat (the 2b2t player never left) and Cellbit is actually trying to get a 1v1 out of him

•Green Team is geared up and ready to get blood on their hands (they seem to have enchanted gear and Diamond armor)

•Phil’s just gathering resources back at Spawn the only members left at the Sphere are Foolish and Jaiden (who is getting tailed by Etoiles)

•Charlie was killed by a Zombie while fighting Tubbo

•Tubbo seems to have this Fish boots that make you swim insanely fast

•Etoiles finally killed Jaiden but gives her probs in InGame Chat because she was not missing her jumps while running away from him

•Charlie is grieving his loaves of bread

•Everybody is now back at Savannah Spawn

•Charlie is trying to get back to his dead body

•Tubbo interrupts Charlie’s travel and tells him that Bad might have taken his MDA (the interface where you can check your personal tasks and the global tasks wherever you are) and is trying to convince Charlie to let him kill him for the points

•Carre came to help him or was trying to get to his dead body (I couldn’t tell) but got killed by Tubbo Charlie tried to loot Carres dead body but got killed by Tubbo as well

•They are talking about if it could be that Green and Blue teamed up on them and that Blue is close to their spawn

•The disaster thing pops up and Jaiden says „I hope they are suffering I hope they burn“ it was indeed the Burning Sun disaster

•Charlie and Baghera are in the hot tub again aka the water pool near their furnaces at spawn

•Jaidens buying Strawheats and decides to become the King Of Pirates (it’s the One Piece Quote)

• Baghera „Wait the merchant house is burning“

Charlie „Honestly fuck them“

•They are talking about possibly coordinating their stream times

•Slimecicle gets murdered in cold blood by BBH while he was chilling in the pool

•Foolish „Damn Blue fuck off go to Green“

•Charlie „I‘m going to verbally assault them“

•Charlie gets killed by Tubbo

•Baghera gets killed by Bad and Tubbo kills Charlie again

•They focused on Phil and are double teaming him he gets away though by Cellbit covering for him

•Meanwhile a familiar Death message pops up in InGame Chat „Slimecicle was slain by BadBoyHalo“

(Quick Authors Note: I‘m pretty much against Spawn Camping people that’s just not cool behavior in my opinion. And after the first day ended everybody that was still awake chilled in a call and they pretty much agreed that the teams should have safe area where they can’t be killed so I guess we will find out if this thing changes.)

•Tubbo died from falling from the tree that he fucking pearled up to (that was on fire from the Burning Sun disaster) I guess that’s fucking karma

•“Hey Phil I‘ve got something for you my beautiful baby boy.“ Charlie as he tosses him bread

•They are marking Team Greens Base and are giving Phil (who is the only one that hasn’t died yet) the apples that they looted from Tubbos Body so he can run to the Sphere to do the global apple task

•Charlie decides to join Phil on his mission „Phil this is fucked up Phil. You don’t do this to a roleplayer“

•Tbh they sound so defeated right now and the spiral into madness has started

•“You know what I did? I tried to take a minute to myself and I hung out in the pool and you know what happened BadBoyHalo showed up and killed me with an enchanted diamond axe. I HAD NOTHING I HAD ONE SEED IN MY INVENTORY.“

•“I‘m gonna be real 2 weeks of this is going to destroy us.“ - Phil

„I‘m going to be honest with you Phil 5 hours already did. this.“ - Charlie

•Phil is suggesting that they should take this event as it goes and not stress about it too much. (They are talking about the timelimit the server has and how to optimize their time online with the tasks and stuff)

•Charlie completely done with his life „And guys remember to have fun“

•They are also talking about the fact that before the event started they talked about how they are not going to kill each other and as soon as they were thrown into the situation NOONE absolutely NOONE hesitated to murder each other

•Bads back at their base what is his deal really

•Foolish: „Friendships are going to end.“

•Baghera jokingly: „I always hated BadBoy. He was never my best friend.“

•Jaiden: „He took my goddamn strawhat.“

Meanwhile Foolish: „I want to kill him so badly.“

•Both Foolish and Charlie want to know where Blue Base is too possibly give them a taste of their own medicine

•“I‘m actually going to become toxic. This sucks man.“ -Charlie

•Charlie and Phil arrived at Sphere and Green is still there btw Charlie’s glitched on Phil’s screen and is still in the swimming animation (it looks so dumb I‘m actually crying out of laughter)

•Charlie got pushed by Mouse and died of fall damage

•Phil tried to gun for Bagi but Etoiles is chasing him now

•This is not the 1v1 we wanted between Codebreakers

•Also he died to Etoiles but Fit, Bagi and Etoiles were actively chasing Phil

•Fit is trying to „taunt“ Phil in InGame Chat but Phil still got the apple quest and Phil congratulated them on their 0.0002% gains

WELCOME TO THE QUOTE SECTION YOU HAVE ARRIVED AT YOUR DESTINATION OF MADNESS BEYOND BOUNDS

„Guys. I hate everyone that isn‘t you guys.“ - Charlie

„I don‘t think I can go to Brazil and look FitMC into his eyes.“ - Charlie

„This could end up in a devastating snowball.“ - Foolish

„It wasn‘t about the eggs? LISTEN I DON‘T THINK IT WAS ABOUT THE EGGS WHEN BADBOYHALO KILLED ME IN MY OWN FUCKING HOME, IN THE POOL. THAT WASN‘T ABOUT THE EGGS. THAT WAS ABOUT NO FUCKING EGGS. WHAT WAS THE POINT? WHAT WAS THE POINT OF TURNING MY HOT TUB INTO MY OWN FUCKING BLOOD.“ - Charlie

„AND WE CAN‘T EVEN PLACE BLOCKS ON HALF OF OUR OWN FUCKING LAND BECAUSE MY OWN BODIES RIDDLE THE YARD“ - Charlie

„Are you okay Charlie?“ - Baghera in a very concerned voice

„They put Forever and Etoiles, Tubbo and Pierre on the same fucking Team and than there’s me I don’t even know how to make a fucking bookshelf“ - Cellbit

„EVERYTHING I HAVE HAS BEEN GIVEN TO ME. SLIME ARMOR? I DON‘T EVEN KNOW IF THAT‘S MADE OUT OF REAL SLIME. I DON‘T KNOW WHAT MAKES THAT. I DON‘T KNOW ANY OF THIS SHIT. I HAVEN‘T ENCHANTED A SINGLE THING AND TO BE HONEST WITH YOU I THINK I ONLY EVER GOT UP TO LEVEL 3 BECAUSE THAT‘S HOW MANY XP LEVELS IT TAKES TO WARP TO SPAWN AND WHEN I GET KILLED AT SPAWN I HAVE TO BEG ADMINS TO TELEPORT ME BACK.“ - Charlie

„WE ARE IN SURVIVAL MODE AND I‘M FAILING“ - Charlie

„Can we get Spectator Mode and just be Cameraman and watch other people.“ - Cellbit

„I want you to know that was a half bit.“ -Charlie

„THER WAS A BIT IN THERE.“-Jaiden

„I think we are the cursed team.“ - Baghera

„Well, I don’t feel particularly blessed Baghera.“ - Charlie

„Hey Baghera, do you want to start a new survival world and start a Let’s Play.“ -Charlie

*after Cellbit dies to a Skelewag

„Yo Cellbit do you just wanna beat the shit out of each other?“ - Charlie

*immediately starting a stick fight till death

*Phil is off trying to loot shipwrecks to at least get some stuff, WHEN THE ADMINS START TROLLING AND SPAWN IN SKELEWAGS

„I CAN SEE WHERE HE IS PLACING THE EGGS HE IS RIGHT CLICKING THE MAST.“ - Phil

*meanwhile Charlie in the background

„CAN YOU JUST / SLIMECICLE HAPPY“

„I just want them to come back and kill us again. I want more reasons to be upset.“ - Foolish

*Cellbit and Charlie in InGame Chat

„I can‘t wait for Wilbur and German to log in ur fucked.“

„Hatsune Miku is going to rip you a new one“

„They hate us. They hate us. Quackity hates us. Maybe just kill my egg, I don’t care. I‘m not having fun anymore.“ - Baghera

„Where are you guys? Can we just huddle in a circle for the last 20 minutes.“ -Jaiden

*The random disaster thing pops up on the screen

„HOLY SHIT. KILL YOURSELFS. KILL YOURSELFS.“ - Jaiden

*They start just killing themselves on the fireplace near Spawn

„Holy Shit look at this body pile.“ - Jaiden

„Someone needs to pull on one end and untangle it like a Spaghetti.“ - Jaiden (They are talking about becoming smooth brain)

„SPAWN AN ENDER DRAGON ADMINS. FUCKING DO IT, NOW I WANT AN ENDER DRAGON.“ - Jaiden

„You guys If we all just decide to throw in the towel. We can have ourselves a good time. I‘m already there.“ - Foolish

„I will survive on a real island for 2 weeks before I do this shit.“ - Charlie

„I HAVE THE CHOICE TO EAT THIS FUCKING POTATO. AND NOT PLANT IT AT ALL. I‘M EATING THE FUCKING POTATO. IT‘S GONE.“ - Jaiden

„I couldn‘t think of a better group than you guys to be stuck in this shit with.“ - Phil

—————-

And now for the rest of the streams they decided to build a Village and become the Villagers others can come and trade Emeralds for goods.

All of them also confessed stuff on the roof of their first house that Foolish was building. Like Cellbit confessed to killing the Fed Workers and Jaiden confessed that she would kill everybody for Cucurucho.

They also decided to become a Cannibal Group and start growling and hissing at other players that come near them so they just back away automatically

They started to sing some songs and sat together and talked about the 1st day of the event.

#qsmp #qsmp purgatory #qsmp team red #qsmp team bolas #q!philza #q!cellbit #q!foolish #q!baghera #q!jaiden #q!slimecicle #q!carre

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