#would make him immediately less self absorbed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spnhunter4life · 4 months

Text

Not So Bad

Summary: Bad information on a hunt leads to a tense situation that ends in confessed feelings.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: none

Masterlist

I sighed as I flipped through the pages of the dusty old book I’d picked up out of a mix of nerves and boredom. The Winchester boys and I were in New York of all places. I hated it here. The constant loud noise of the bustling city, the air that was so far from the fresh country air I’d grown used to at the bunker, and, worst of all, the tall buildings that blocked out the sky mixing with the thick crowds of people made me feel severely claustrophobic.

But there was a monster here that needed to be killed, and the Winchesters always went where they were needed. And wherever they went, I went. So here I was, sitting in the library while the brothers went off to kill the thing. It was some sort of demi god named Daemon.

I’d never been much of one for fighting. I preferred to be the designated researcher, helping out in a mental capacity instead of physical. Both brothers insisted I at least learn basic self defense and worked with me on occasion, wanting me to be able to defend myself if the worst were to happen, but they never pushed me to come face down monsters with them.

The book I was currently looking through was one of the three I’d been able to find in this library about Daemon. I’d already found the information I was looking for and reported it to the Winchesters. But now my options were to sit here and wait for the hunt to be over so the boys could come pick me up, or make my way back to the motel on my own, and I was perfectly comfortable where I was. Or at least, comfortable enough that it wasn’t worth braving the crowded streets.

I turned another page, skimming the words quickly, barely absorbing what I was reading. Somewhere in the back of my mind I made the distant realization that I was in a library and could go find a more interesting book to pass the time. I didn’t give the idea much thought, knowing that it would be difficult to lose myself in a book when my boys were in danger. I knew how long they’d been living this life and how capable they were, but that didn’t make it any less scary anytime they took off. I knew every time could be the last, and I didn’t take that for granted.

I was about to close the book and at least find something to occupy myself that wasn’t a detailed explanation of the very thing the boys were facing down, when the sentence I’d just read actually registered in my mind. With a sharp inhale, my eyes darted back to the beginning of the paragraph.

It is a common misconception that Daemon is susceptible to oak stakes dipped in lamb’s blood – a rumor no doubt started by the mischievous deity himself – which is actually quite harmless to him. What most do not know is that Daemon is not a demigod at all, but the offspring of a demon and a faerie. As such, his one and only weakness is a silver blade dipped in holy water.

The blood drained from my face. I’d given the boys the wrong information and now they were off to face an angry demigod – or faerie demon hybrid, apparently – with weapons that may as well have been toothpicks for all the use they would be.

How could I have been stupid enough to not double check the information? I should know better than that!

I didn’t have time to wonder if maybe this bit of information was the incorrect one. Something in my gut told me it was right, and even if it wasn’t, I couldn’t risk letting them go to their deaths, thinking they had the upper hand. I pulled my phone out and immediately dialed Sam’s number. It rang a few times before going to voicemail. Cursing quietly to myself, I tried Dean instead. Voicemail again.

Fear for my boys overrode everything else. They were all I had left in the world and I absolutely could not lose them. I couldn’t live without my sweet, steady Sam. He was an invaluable source of knowledge on all topics imaginable and he had a calm, comforting disposition that seemed to instantly ease everyone in his vicinity. His sense of humor may not have been as pronounced as Dean’s, but I appreciated it just the same and wondered what would happen if I never got to hear his laugh or see his smile again.

And Dean. I couldn’t even let myself think what all I would be losing if he was gone. To an outsider, our relationship looked perfectly polite and comfortable. And it was, I suppose – we always got along well and never had a bad word to say to each other – if not a little strained. Although, that may have been just on my end. He never did seem to feel the tension that I did. I couldn’t blame him for not noticing either. After all, I did everything I could to keep him from knowing just how much I cared for him. Just how much I loved him.

Without stopping to think about it, I quickly exited the library and rushed out into the crowded streets I so despised. I ran in the direction of Daemon’s lair – we had known its location since early in the investigation and had only been working on the details of how to kill him – roughly shoving through crowds of people when necessary.

I was severely winded by the time I reached the abandoned building that Daemon resided in. I was panting in short breaths that seemed to fill my lungs with fire. I didn’t have time to stop though. I spotted the Impala parked in the alley and fumbled a key out of my pocket. I threw the trunk open, grabbed a silver knife and poured a generous helping of holy water over it. I barely remembered to slam the trunk shut before rushing inside.

I slowed down once I was inside. The building was large and I had no idea where any of the current occupants might be. I was just peeking around an open door, knife held at the ready, when a huge crash followed by a yell of pain sounded off to my right. My heart stopped. That was Dean.

Please let him be ok. Please let him be ok. And Sam too. Let them both be ok, I pleaded to any god who would listen.

I crept as quickly and quietly towards the sound of distress as I could, sounds of a fight leading me there. Fear like I’d never felt before ran like ice through my veins, but kept me moving forward. I rounded a corner and felt my heart stop again before picking up a racing rhythm at what I saw. Sam was sprawled on the ground. He’s only unconscious, I told myself. The alternative was unacceptable. Across the room was Dean, pinned to a wall by Daemon, straining to break the hybrid’s grip and thrust his oak stake into its side. Daemon clearly had the upper hand and wrenched the stake away from him, throwing it behind him. I barely stopped myself from calling out Dean’s name.

“You think you can kill me? A puny man, kill a god?” Daemon spat, the rage clear in his voice.

I charged towards them, knife raised and ready. I was only a few steps away when Dean saw me over Daemon’s shoulder. His eyes widened in surprise before he could stop the involuntary reaction. I saw him immediately look away again, not wanting to give me away, but it was too late. Daemon had seen it. He whirled around to face me and knocked me aside without a thought. It was as easy as if he’d been swatting at an irritating fly. Dean yelled my name just as I collided with the wall. My breath, which I hadn’t even quite gotten back after my long sprint here, left me in a whoosh.

I watched in fascination and horror as Dean took advantage of the momentary distraction to rush at Daemon. He kicked his legs out from under him before climbing on top of him, pinning him to the ground. They struggled for a few seconds before Dean was able to snatch the oak stake from where it had been discarded on the ground.

“No, Dean! The knife!” I yelled to him. I had dropped it at some point between Daemon’s blow and hitting the wall. Dean didn’t question me, didn’t hesitate before dropping the useless weapon and searching for the knife. But it was out of his reach and it was clear he wouldn’t be able to hold Daemon down much longer. I started to struggle to my feet to grab it for him, but before I was able to, a large body ran into my line of sight, blocking my view of Dean, and stooping to pick up the knife.

I tensed, terrified that there was some unknown second thing to deal with now, but soon realized it was only Sam. He picked up the knife and turned to his brother. Without speaking a word to each other, Dean rolled out of the way just as Sam plunged the knife down into the heart of the monster.

Dean was red faced and breathing hard – and who could blame him after wrestling with a being with supernatural strength – but otherwise seemed alright, so I turned my attention to Sam who was closer and who I worried could have any number of injuries after being knocked unconscious.

“Sam, are you-”

“What the hell were you thinking?” Dean demanded. Stunned at the hardness of his voice, I turned to look at him and realized that what I’d mistaken for exertion was actually anger. He was livid. I’d never seen him so angry, at least not with me. Why was he angry? This completely unexpected reaction left me feeling small and confused.

“What?” I asked. “What do you mean? I was just trying-”

“You could have gotten yourself killed!” He yelled. He took a step in my direction and a grimace crossed his face as his leg seemed to struggle slightly under his weight. He grunted, the only sound he would let escape. I remembered his yell, the noise that had guided me in this direction to begin with. He was hurt. Dean, who sat stoically with teeth gritted, never letting more than a grunt escape while Sam dug bullets out of him or sewed up horrible gashes, had cried out in pain. That had scared me more than anything else tonight, the idea of how badly he must be hurt to not be able to hide it.

“Dean,” Sam started in a warning tone. He might have been about to defend me or to tell Dean to cool his temper so we could talk calmly, but I would never know. Anger flared up in me, completely overriding the confusion and uncertainty Dean’s words had caused.

“Well you nearly were killed! So I guess it’s a good thing I’m here, isn’t it?” I shouted back. I wasn’t actually angry, I knew, just reliving the terror of the last half hour mixed with the relief of seeing them both ok and the worry at their injuries. In short, I was overwhelmed and Dean yelling at me had frayed my already shot nerves.

“We would have been fine.” Dean deflected.

“No you wouldn’t have! When I got here Sam was on the ground, dead for all I knew, and you were hardly about to win in a battle of strength. And even if you had, your weapon was useless. You would have died!”

“You’re the one who decided you didn’t want to fight! And that’s fine, you know we’re ok with that. But you can’t just not train and then run into a fight with no idea what you’re doing!”

“Guys, maybe we should-” Sam tried again.

“No!” I yelled. I saw a look of surprised hurt in his eyes. I felt bad for snapping at him when he hadn’t done anything wrong, but I was too fired up to backtrack now. “If Dean hasn’t had enough of a fight tonight, then let’s fight! I may not be trained in hand to hand and weapons the way you are, but I assure you, I can yell at you all night long.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed and I saw the muscle jump in his jaw.

“Sam, can you give us a minute?” He asked in a forced calm tone.

Sam hesitated, looking back and forth between the two of us before agreeing. “Alright. But you’ve got ten minutes before I’m coming back in after you to make sure you’re not strangling each other,” he warned before leaving the room.

We glared at each other for a minute, neither of us speaking. After what felt simultaneously like an eternity and only a moment, Dean started talking again in that tone that was an attempt at being calm, but I could clearly hear the tenseness and anger underneath.

“You can’t just-”

“You said that already,” I interrupted immediately. His jaw ticked again, and I knew shouting at him when he was trying to deescalate the situation was not appreciated. He tried again in that same infuriating tone, a little more strained this time.

“Sam and I hardly need you jumping in to protect us. We know what we’re doing.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what is?” He yelled back, patience worn thin.

“It doesn’t matter if you know what you’re doing or not because you couldn’t have won! I was doing some more reading after you guys left and I realized I gave you the wrong weapon.”

“Then you call us! You don’t come running in after us!”

“I did call you! Neither of you picked up! I couldn’t just sit there and wait for you to die!”

“Of course you could have! Don’t you think we’d rather take our chances with bad weapons than to have you in the line of fire?”

“What would you have done Dean?” I screamed at him. “If it were you sitting around knowing that I was going after a monster with a weapon that wouldn’t kill it? What would you have done?” I felt confident this would be the end of it. After all, there was no doubt in my mind what he would have done, and he couldn’t possibly deny it.

“That’s not the same thing,” he said. He was still angry, but he said this in a quieter voice, the kind of quiet that meant I’d truly struck a nerve.

“Why?” I asked, ready to swoop in with the metaphorical killing blow and win the argument. “Because I can’t fight, so of course I’d need you to come save me?”

“No.”

“Hypothetically saying I was as well trained as you then. Or that it was Sam. The point still stands. You would have done exactly what I did. You wouldn’t just sit back and let us die, so why would I?”

“I told you, that’s not what I meant,” he snapped. “How do you think we would feel if something happened to you? What if we couldn’t protect you and you got hurt?”

“How do you think I felt, Dean?” I stomped over to him, getting right in his face, letting him see how much I meant what I was saying. “I didn’t know if you would be alive or not when I got here.” I stopped for a breath, the intensity of the emotions I’d felt in that moment hitting me once again. “Don’t tell me I don’t understand what it would feel like. I know exactly what it feels like.”

“It’s not the same,” he said again, stubbornly.

“How is it not the same? If anything, it’s worse for me. You and Sam at least have each other. If I lose you guys, I have no one. I will not lose you. Do you understand me? If that means putting my own life on the line, I’m ok with that.”

“I’m not!”

“Well that’s just too bad, isn’t it, because it’s my life, not yours!”

“You’re not understanding me! If you would just let me explain-”

But apparently I wouldn’t. I wasn’t doing it on purpose, but I just needed him to understand what I was saying. So I cut him off in the middle of his request that I not do so.

“No, I told you that I understand perfectly. It’s you who isn’t understanding! I’ve never been more scared in my whole life than I was when I heard you yelling in pain.” In the back of my mind, I registered that Dean’s expression had turned from anger to determination. But my brain didn’t seem to fully process this fact, not that I would have known what to do with that information even if I had. My emotions were driving me now, and there was no stopping the words pouring from my mouth.

“I thought that whatever happened, it must be really bad. And maybe I was too late to save you. And it’s my own stupid fault you needed saving in the first place. How could I-”

This time, Dean cut me off. It was only fair, after all I’d done the same to him. This was a much nicer, much more pleasant, much more unexpected way of interrupting though. He leaned down, crashing his lips against mine. As my body seemed to be running on instinct and adrenaline right now, I responded immediately, wrapping my arms around his neck, meeting his demanding kiss with enthusiasm.

I ran one of my hands through his hair, enjoying the feel of the soft strands between my fingers. My other hand ran down over his shoulder, to his bicep, then over to his chest, loving the strength I could feel in all those hard earned muscles. His hands were wandering too, in my hair one second, traveling over my back the next, and then on my waist.

My brain, which seemed to have shut down for the past few moments – minutes? – decided to start working again, practically screaming at me that this was Dean I was kissing. Dean, apparently experiencing the same returning brain function as me, pulled away. He took a careful step back, creating some space between us. That was probably good. I couldn’t think with him so close. Not after that. His cheeks were flushed red for a whole new reason now and his hair was sticking up in an annoyingly attractive way. I could see by the surprise in his eyes that he hadn’t been planning on the kiss being that intense.

“It’s not the same,” he repeated, his voice as calm as if we were having a normal conversation on any old day. As if we hadn’t been arguing minutes before. As if he hadn’t just given me the most mind numbing, spine tingling kiss of my life. “Because I love you. And I know that that probably wasn’t the best way to go about telling you, but I need you to understand what it would mean to me to lose you. If you lost me, you’d lose a friend. It would suck, but you would move on. But you’re more than that to me, and I don’t know how I could survive losing you.”

“Have you not paid attention to a thing I said?” I asked him, taking a step forward to eliminate the space he’d put between us. “I told you, if I lost you and Sam I would have nothing.”

“Yeah, but that’s not really true. You could make more friends easily enough.”

“But you’re not just my friends. Sam is my best friend, true, but I love him like he’s my brother. Losing him would hurt me just as bad as losing an actual brother. And you… I couldn’t move on from you any easier than you could move on from me. I love you too.”

“Yeah,” Dean winced. “Like a brother. I know.”

“Not like a brother,” I said, wrinkling my nose a little. “Do you really think I would kiss you like that, or at all for that matter, if that’s how I thought of you?”

“I would hope not,” he agreed.

“So, basically, you’ve been yelling at me this whole time about not understanding you when, in reality, I understand perfectly, just like I said from the beginning.” I couldn’t help but gloat a little at being right.

The corner of Dean’s mouth twitched slightly in a repressed smile.

“You know, I think you owe me for scaring me nearly to death earlier,” he said happily.

“I owe you?”

“Yes. When you came running in here I swear my heart stopped. And then I had to watch you get thrown across the room…” He winced at the memory and I could tell how upset it made him, but he quickly shook it off and kept up his cheerful tone. “I think you took at least three years off my life. Lucky for you I’ll take payment in kisses. One for every year less I’ll live thanks to you.”

Part of me wanted to argue, but the other part was too giddy to even care.

“Alright,” I agreed easily. I stretched up onto my tiptoes and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his mouth. I wanted to continue the intense kiss from earlier, but there would be time for that later. This seemed like the appropriate response to his gentle, teasing tone. “There’s one.”

I kissed him again, and then once more, feeling like I could burst with joy the whole time.

“There,” I said after the third kiss. “Does that make us even?”

“For now,” he smiled. “I have a feeling I’ll be finding lots of excuses for more in the future.”

“How’s this for an excuse? I think you took at least five years off my life. I’ll be needing some compensation here as well.”

He grinned. “And I fully intend to pay up. Once we’re home though. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get out of here.”

I was a little disappointed to have to be done kissing him. But I knew he was right. We should get out of here. I knew he was in pain, and I still didn’t know how Sam was doing. Besides, it was only a temporary stop. Once we were home I would have as much time with him as I wanted.

Home. Just the mention of it made me long for it even more. But even though I couldn’t wait to be back, even though I’d spent the whole time here waiting for the moment we could leave, the past few minutes with Dean had made the whole thing worth it.

Maybe New York wasn’t so bad after all.

Tags: @123passwort @buckybarnes-1917 @chicken-nuggs-and-cozy-hugs @globetrotter28

#not so bad #supernatural #fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #confessed feelings #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x original character

376 notes · View notes

bonefall · 2 months

Text

Clear Sky is a Monster.

Of all the characters in Warrior Cats, I think Clear Sky was the most heavily mishandled.

At every turn, the narrative begs you to sympathize with him, to "understand" the "misunderstood." To this end, his brother Gray Wing is used to "keep faith" in his inherent goodness, his abused son, Thunder, is forced to go back to him over and over, and his second dead wife is completely lobotomized in death to absolve him of all sin.

Because of this, of all this set-up for the "redemption" arc they're trying to tell in the last three books, DOTC is Clear Sky's story. Everything primarily exists to benefit and serve his arc. Thunder and Gray Wing might have POVs, but HE is the character who truly drives the plot. So in order to HAVE conflict for that back half, two evil foreign cats, Slash and One Eye, are summoned to act as contrast.

Their narrative purpose is to display "true evil" to make Clear Sky look less bad in comparison. Unfortunately, Clear Sky is the most malignant, deadly character who has ever blighted Warrior Cats.

The "pure evil" examples they summon aren't effective contrasts because they're flat. Clear Sky is what real abusers look like.

His rhetoric is what it sounds like when a cult leader is trying to keep control over a group. He lies when it benefits him, justifies his actions with his tragic backstory to assuage his guilt and manipulate others, and violently lashes out when his feelings are hurt before blaming his victim for making him angry.

He only made "some mistakes" in that SOME of his actions were accidents-- the vast majority of them were malicious, self-absorbed, intentional choices to punish, hurt, and kill others.

I've spoken about Bumble. I've tallied his body count next to Tigerstar. I've talked about how his infant son's death was his fault in sequel books, and called attention to the infected wound face shoving scene that no one talks about. I can't fit every detail into a single post-- because he's so rancid that I would practically be posting entire books.

So what I want to do here is tackle the heart of Clear Sky. Everything he does, everything he's motivated by, is absolute and utter control over other people. He leverages his "trauma" to evoke empathy from his targets to make them easier to manipulate. He's a dirty liar. He breaks down to physical violence when all other tactics stop working.

He's one of the most severe and realistic abusers I've ever read about outside of very adult literature-- and when I read the reasons why he's attracted to Star Flower, my stomach immediately lurched.

The Killing of Misty

Starvation Rhetoric and the Memory of Fluttering Bird

Aside; a question

Hunger as a punishment; he doesn't care about starvation

Exoneration arc

Predation: Star Flower is a replacement for his son.

I think that index is an evocative content warning. But to say it again; this post contains child and domestic abuse, physical assault, public humiliation, incestuous grooming implications, and a lot of murder.

I need to start with the death of Misty. I see a few people saying that Clear Sky killed her for "being on his land" or trespassing, but this is actually a misstatement that I feel is important to correct.

Misty and her children were on their own land. It was her house. Clear Sky killed her to take it.

This is one of the most important details to remember about Clear Sky, that this is the consistent end point of his obsessive need for power and control. By harassment, by violence, or by death, he will brutalize anyone who does not give him what he wants, or who makes him feel bad, and find some way to justify it.

This territory expansion was for no logical reason. There was plenty of food and plenty of land. Any aggression that's happening on this territory is in response to how he's been stealing land and mauling people.

When it's found out she was fighting to defend her children, Clear Sky's immediate response is to slaughter them too.

Petal doesn't have milk either. It wasn't about the logistics. He wanted to kill the kids, because looking at them made him feel bad, and she just managed to stop him.

Starvation Rhetoric and the Image of Fluttering Bird

It is often said that Clear Sky is doing this because he's "traumatized" from how his little sister, Fluttering Bird, starved to death in the mountains. That the emotion came from wanting to feed people. That's incorrect. It wasn't about food. Fluttering Bird's death, and all the "starvation" he's faced, are used as manipulation tactics to guilt, influence, and control other characters, particularly when he might meet resistance or be held accountable for something.

It was always, ALWAYS, about control.

He does not care about actually helping people; "Starvation Rhetoric" through Fluttering Bird is an image he can invoke to justify the actions that are as bloody and cruel as the one this post starts off with. Either in his own mind, or in the minds of the cats he's manipulating.

He does this to Falling Feather, before slicing her face open in anger when she doesn't buy it. He does it to Rainswept Flower, before he strangles her to death. And he does it in the chapter just before Misty's murder, both to his Clan and then to Thunder,

Clear Sky climbed up in front of an entire crowd and gave a grand speech about hunger and "adjusting" the borders around territory he plans to conquer. When he gets to "forgiveness" he feigns pain to make his point because he is performing. If the sentiment is not a total lie, then at bare minimum, he is intentionally playing this up for the crowd.

He is rallying the Clan to support his violence against the cats whose land he wants to steal, and selling it with his life's hardships.

The audience is clearly well-trained, because several cats recognize the cue, particularly Frost who is praised for loudly comforting him. This signals "loyalty" because showing your sympathy towards his "suffering" is how this type of emotional manipulation works. It creates a persecuted, righteous in-group.

He's also apparently used this tactic before, since this entire crowd knows what "I Would Never Forgive Myself " means.

He's made sycophants out of his followers. Like a cult leader.

His abused son, however, hasn't been fully indoctrinated yet. Seeing Thunder uncomfortable with the idea of expanding the borders for no reason, Clear Sky calls him over for a personal propaganda session.

Clear Sky begins the exchange by calling this a "duty" and a "great honor." Immediately framing what he plans to do as righteous.

He puts on the act when Thunder shows resistance, dramatically pausing to let the guilt trip sink in.

"Thunder waited, realizing that he said the wrong thing."

And then Clear Sky launches into infantilizing Thunder, talking down to him like a child who's too inexperienced to see the "signs of starvation," acting like he's being "patient" in "explaining" it.

And then we get it. "I know what starvation looks like (so stop trusting your own eyes) because I have been through more than you (so shut up and do what I tell you), and I'm being a HERO for what I'm about to do (so opposing me would make you a bad person)."

Thanks to these crocodile tears, looking "moved," the act works. The victim is immediately wracked by guilt because the abuser seems genuinely emotional.

He even lovebombs him over the corpse of Misty in the next chapter, making Thunder feel threatened.

Thunder doesn't have the words to describe what is happening to him, but he knows that this sudden snap to praise isn't natural. That something is very wrong.

A Question.

Before I move on to show that this IS an act, and that he is lying about how important avoiding starvation is to him, I will ask a question. Please think about it, because I promise I mean it genuinely;

Why does it matter if Clear Sky actually believes this or not?

The victims are just as dead either way, yes? Thunder is just as abused and guilt tripped. The entire Clan has been driven towards violence while coddling and cooing at their Supreme Leader. Clear Sky is slowly annexing the entire forest. If you have ever accepted that he had "good intentions" as an excuse for the harm he did, or that abuse and murder was what he imagined was "the right thing," or that his trauma justifies the way he leverages his own pain to make cats do what he wants... why do you think that?

Why does that make it morally better, as the narrative concludes? Would you accept the same for every other WC villain or antagonist? Tigerstar? Slash? Tom the Wifebeater? Brokenstar? Rainflower?

How could you tell the difference, if you couldn't read their actual thoughts on the page? ...are there any other "good intentions" you've accepted, somewhere else?

Don't share that answer with me. It's a question for you. Sit with it.

Hunger as a punishment; he doesn't care about starvation.

...but, regardless, Clear Sky is not deluded about starvation. It's a justification for his obsessive need for control, and always has been. There was no shortage before stealing Misty's land and kits, he is fully aware that there's more prey than they can eat.

He punishes Falling Feather with hunger and harassment for thought crime, by briefly thinking of leaving. But first, he invokes Fluttering Bird at her like he did before, flying into a screeching fit of rage when she doesn't buy it,

"I'm sorry I hurt you... BUT" is THE wifebeater phrase. THE stereotypical line of a domestic abuser. "I'm sorry I hit you... but it's your fault for making me so angry."

She went through the same exact starvation he did, calls out that he's just framing his greed as being for the collective benefit of his subjects, and is assaulted for that.

When we're in his head, we see his REAL concerns are not about hunger. He invoked Fluttering Bird to try and make her shut up and bow down to him; what he's focused on is her "gossiping" and "whining" about the open wound he left on her face. He's still furious at Fircone and Nettle for how Thunder QUESTIONED him. So he will "strengthen their commitment."

When "starvation" DOES enter his thoughts, it is to assuage his own guilt and JUSTIFY what he already did. What he already WANTS to do. It's post-hoc.

He had to suppress his own guilt at how his greed and ambition made these children into orphans, completely unable to admit that he's ever been wrong or has a change to make, so he invokes the starvation rhetoric at himself to excuse it. So he feels less bad.

Everything, EVERYTHING, in this confrontation is about his pleasure at being able to torment his subordinates. To continue the abuse when the initial confrontation is over. If it isn't pride in his power and control over them, it's plain sadism.

He invokes starvation in front of the crowd, again, after being pleasured at the guilt in her eyes, hoping that everyone sees her writhing with shame and embarrassment. Fear wasn't at the root of why he assaulted Falling Feather; rage was, and now he feels better that he got to humiliate the person who offended him.

Starvation Rhetoric is a manipulation tactic.

It goes RIGHT BACK to his twisted idea of "loyalty." Obedience.

A cat who's actually, primarily concerned about starvation wouldn't encourage other cats to steal her food if they feel like it. He wouldn't be using it as a weapon to retaliate against her because she hurt his feelings.

This is paired with the fact he restricts and monitors the diet of his cats. They eat when he allows it, and only what he gives them, in spite of there being piles of dead animals rotting, going to waste.

We then find he personally doles out food from these piles, plucking carcasses off them and flinging them at his cats, one by one. Probably so he can watch how grateful they are to him and make sure they stay a little hungry-- and definitely because it means he can control WHO gets to eat at all.

If Clear Sky chucked a mouse at Falling Feather and someone took it? She would have gone hungry. For not groveling to him. Like when he decides to starve her brother; a hostage who he promised to feed and care for.

He's a dishonest snake. He lied about abandoning baby Thunder, calling it a "test of strength," he lied about Bumble's death, he lied about keeping Jackdaw's Cry fed.

And he lied about starvation to Thunder, because he was just making up an excuse to steal more land.

He wasn't "seeing the signs" of starvation when he moved to "adjust" his borders. Even FURTHER into this so-called "delusional slip" into tyranny, he's freely admitting that it takes months for a person to starve when it benefits his sadistic need to punish undeserving cats.

"Dumb moor cats, always expecting more than they DESERVE."

Not need. DESERVE. It's not a delusion about starvation and it never was. STARVATION is how he CONTROLS SkyClan, and once again he's angry that his pleasure has been sullied.

The massacre at Fourtrees was started over Jackdaw's Cry catching a bat after being starved, on land that Clear Sky has decided RIGHT NOW that he also owns, because it mades him think about being disobeyed.

The bat is forgotten as Clear Sky pivots into a tantrum, wanting to make his family HURT for being 'disloyal' and 'ungrateful.' For leaving him. He LIKES seeing people grovel, cower, and beg, getting PLEASURE from watching how he can hurt and command other cats, and if you don't give him what he wants he will kill you.

Which, make no mistake, is what the "First Battle" actually is. Clear Sky attempting to murder those who don't worship him or swear their undying fealty to him and his twisted dictatorship. Particularly his own son, the most prominent victim of his emotional abuse.

It's not about the bat. It was never even about food or starvation. It's about retaliation for any perceived lack of control.

Once again he breaks out starvation rhetoric to try and manipulate someone, and when Rainswept Flower doesn't buy it just like Falling Feather didn't, he murders her in another fit of entitled rage.

Exoneration arc.

At the end of this battle that was entirely his own fault, we're introduced to the hollowed-out ghost of Storm. She has been flushed of all personality, so that she can be the perfect narrative mouthpiece.

She accepts yet another Fluttering Bird Invocation in spite of how we saw it's not sincere. He was lying the entire time and using starvation rhetoric as a manipulation tactic to get control over his victims.

And that's it.

That's the consequence. Storm's a little mad at him until he says "Buttering Flird" and she swoons.

He doesn't have to be ""afraid"" anymore because the cats just invented an afterlife to believe in. He keeps all of his power and influence and gets off scot-free, because "guilt" (which we SAW him repressing anyway) is supposed to be the best consequence for murder, abuse, and tyranny.

The husk of Storm even materializes again at the end of book 5 to say it outright; he "never drove anyone away." Not even after Book 4 where it's also his fault One Eye took over his Clan for 5 minutes. It was just destiny.

His "redemption arc" is just an exoneration arc. The narrative doesn't think he really did anything wrong.

EVERYTHING about Clear Sky has ALWAYS been about making grabs at power, but since the narrative didn't see a problem with him extorting his personal tragedy and the death of a child, his own sister, he continues doing it. As if these behaviors are normal personality 'traits'.

Even when that sister COMES OUT OF HEAVEN TO YELL AT HIM DIRECTLY,

He finds a way to COMPLETELY miss the point, so he can interpret her words in a bizarrely specific way that will conveniently end with him being the supreme dictator of the entire forest. Just like he ALWAYS does.

It's the entire 5th book. Clear Sky trying to convince everyone, including himself, that it's Fluttering Bird who wants him to grab at power, NOT himself and his own ambition, that THIS time, he promises, for realsies, it's actually about keeping everyone safe.

But just like ALWAYS, because he does not change, when this tried and true tactic manages to work on Thunder, during ANOTHER exchange where he's dramatically pausing and using the cold shoulder to make his pitiable act land harder,

He lapses right back into bullying his child, creating situations where Thunder will have difficulty or be put in pain, so that he can have an excuse to mock and belittle him.

And this all comes to a head when Clear Sky takes romantic interest in Star Flower, his abused son's previous romantic interest.

Predation: Star Flower is a replacement for his son.

Direct parallels are drawn between Thunder and Star Flower. Star Flower contrasts her loyalty to her father to Thunder's "disloyalty" to his own, in an appeal to Clear Sky.

Clear Sky brushes it off for now, citing that he cannot accept her because of who her father was.

But then, Thunder makes the connection between himself and her, because he knows what it is like to be a victim of parental abuse and correctly clocks that they have this in common,

On his vouch, Clear Sky accepts her into the group. She starts trying to offer himself to him; hunting twice as hard as the others, self-imposing harsh conditions like taking a wet sleeping spot. In their second interaction, Clear Sky begins to take interest in her.

Thunder himself points out that Star Flower is seeking an abusive tyrant to replace her own father, which reads like he's deflecting the stress of how his father is abusing him to deny a connection he already made. As if Thunder sees so much of himself in Star Flower that it makes him (rightly) feel sick that his father is romantically invested in her;

Thunder then goes on to follow his own advice and form his own Clan, because Clear Sky IS like One Eye... while Star Flower remains here. At Clear Sky's side. Because she feels like this is what she "deserves," that she "understands" him, truly believing that her crime (warning her father that Clear Sky brought an ambush in case he lost the 1 on 1 death match he requested, which he did) are on the same level as his abuse and murders.

Clear Sky is attracted to Star Flower because, in his own words;

She is young.

She will not betray him.

She won't question him,

and she obeys him.

We've seen what "betrayal" is to Clear Sky-- not taking his excuses or his beatings. To "disobey" is betrayal. To "question" is disobedience.

These are ALL things he's tried to drill into Thunder. We saw him happily exploit their difference in age to tell him he can't have an opinion. He constructed humiliating games in retaliation for ever being questioned. He tried to murder Thunder and his friends for their "betrayal." Even now, being disobeyed causes explosive reactions.

He was previously grooming the things he now identifies as attractive in a young woman into his child.

If your body becomes too useless to serve him, like Frost and Jagged Peak, you're thrown out. If you don't unquestioningly follow his bloody commands, like Falling Feather or Thunder, you're subjected to abuse and public humiliation. If you're in his way, like Misty or Rainswept Flower were, you die.

If you meet all of his expectations...

You will be in a horrific position where you will never have agency over your own life ever again. Every move, every word, will have to be carefully crafted so that he feels like you're "loyal" to him by the arbitrary standard he feels that day. Never step out of line, never doubt his decisions, never live for anyone except him and the children you will give him, not even for a moment, because then you will not be "worthy" of his grace.

Star Flower would be in serious danger if this series wasn't written by abuse apologists. They accidentally wrote a perfect reflection of how child abuse victims often find themselves in unsafe and toxic romantic relationships with large age gaps which mirror what they went through as kids; but this team doesn't clock it, playing this relationship as wholesome and genuine.

He finally has someone who ""understands"" him. Because they think the character they wrote is misunderstood.

but reality is plain to see.

Clear Sky is a monster. The most realistic monster in all of WC-- far, far closer to real life predators and domestic abusers than the "born evil" rogues like Slash and One Eye. The Erins seem to believe that what separates Clear Sky from One Eye is "fundamental" good and "fundamental" evil, when the truth is that they'd be separated by very, very little.

If they had realistic motivations, they would be exactly like the character their existence is meant to excuse.

Slash and One Eye HAD to be kept flat and one-dimensional. If the book was more earnest, the only difference between Clear Sky and One Eye would have been that One Eye is stronger. So strong that Clear Sky needed to manipulate the other groups into helping him.

While anyone can change, not everyone will, and Clear Sky has no reason to. He sees no consequences. He has everything he wants; power, a pretty and obedient young mate, and unchecked authority over a brainwashed forest cult. There is always a victim on a leash, a naive enabler, or a bunch of desperate and gullible marks somewhere in his proximity to bully into doing his dirtywork

Whether his "intentions" were sincere or not (evidence points towards not) at its root it was always about control. Power is something he perpetually keeps, and continues to violently use.

370 notes · View notes

bucknastysbabe · 2 months

Text

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Let's play who's the sidepiece?, Aegon has half of King's Landing and his sister has one (1) man, humor, strong themes of sexism/patriarchy/gender roles, infidelity but casual?, jealous jealous jealous Aeg, who is also a self-absorbed idiot, Aemond just wants peace, pnv!sex, Incest need I say more, manipulation, degradation, rough sex, oral sex (m!receiving), a bit toxic at the end but they do love each other.

Taglist: @arcielee @aemonds-holy-milk @fairysluna @valeskafics @dr-aegon @targaryen-madness @starogeorgina @lovelykhaleesiii @sugarpoppss2 @thought--bubble

Divider by @saradika

Aegon was suspicious. Sure, he fucked whenever and however he wanted. Regardless of outside activities, something was off in his meticulously planned life. Planned by others, of course, he couldn't give a rat's ass. The prince just had been wed to his sister, the less strange one. She was suspiciously…competent in bed. He could swear she was supposed to be a maiden. She was- bled during the bedding ceremony when he first fucked her.

But the way she rode his cock was good. Too good. Aegon knew he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Frankly, it was eating him up. She even gave fantastic head! Who the fuck had taught her that? He narrowed his eyes at her, the fellow blonde looking bored at supper.

Aegon took a swig of his wine, eyes dark as he studied her. Maybe if he looked long enough someone would jump up and act jealous. What if she was secret fuckmates with his nephew? Aegon had a vague memory of a sordid rumor regarding Jacaerys Velaryon's horse cock. He would kill himself, truly. He could imagine the letter, “Sorry mother, I couldn’t take that shame, yes I know I live in constant shame, but this was the final straw.”

His sister-wife was staring now. She raised a brow in question. “Why are you staring at me like that?” Aegon grumbled, “Nothing. Just looking. Can’t have a look, alright then.”

She scoffed, “You can look, but you’re looking as if you’re about to eat my face.”

Oh. Aegon blushed in embarrassment. He drank more wine, mumbling a ‘sorry’. He didn’t want to broach the subject at supper. The prince’s damn family was nosy enough as is, he didn’t need Aemond’s big ass nose in his ear. Or one of those frightful looks from Alicent. If Aegon got lectured by Otto or Criston he would consider stabbing himself.

Aegon mulled over what he should do next between bites of mutton. She obviously wasn’t going to the Street of Silk, because that was his domain. Someone would’ve peeped already. He reluctantly knew when Daemon was visiting. Every. Damn. Time. Why would Aegon want to hear about the fuckhead's potency issues?

Mayhaps he should get her on the cusp of orgasm and demand who her secret lover-teacher-whatever was. That seemed sound enough to Aegon. When he was about to nut? One could ask him anything, there would be an answer. The prince smiled enigmatically, laughing to himself.

To which his sister-wife said, “You’re acting strange tonight.”

Aegon cooed, “Sorry, just dreaming a bit.”

Under the table he put a lecherous hand on her thigh, squeezing over her soft dress. His sister blushed and squirmed, fork awkwardly clanking across the plate. The woman hissed, “Okay I get it!” She cleared her throat, ignoring any stares. Aegon smirked and squeezed a bit higher, plump lips splitting into a grin.

Aegon had immediately crowded her smaller frame in the bedroom, plush lips attacking her neck, impatient hands pulling at her dress. She moaned, walking backward into the bed, yelping when Aegon crawled atop. He murmured, “You looked ravishing tonight, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Uh, huh, the clasps you fool,” she groaned.

Aegon huffed, probably tearing the fabric as he separated the back of the dress. She began to shuck the dress off while he awkwardly pulled off his breeches. They giggled a bit making eye contact; Aegon unbuttoning his tunic and her unlacing the corset. Soon they were both naked, grinning and kissing, her soft skin rubbing against his.

Aegon grabbed her thighs, mouthing at a tit and playfully nipping at it. She squeaked, thighs tightening around his waist, throwing long blonde hair back. His wife cried out, “Aegon! Quit playing!” He pulled off her nipple, murmuring between little kisses, “Why, is the princess needy?”

He slipped a ringed finger between her folds, finding her wetter than expected. Aegon dipped into her cunt, laughing, “Ah she is, little whore.” The princess writhed a bit, leaning up to capture his lips, lapping into his mouth hungrily. The prince returned her eager movements, curling his fingers into her pussy, letting her ride his hand.

“Fuck, you’re a doll,” he swore, “Perfect.”

She whined and arched up into him, hips canting on his hand. Aegon used his other hand to play with her sensitive tits, thumb circling around a budded nipple. She shivered and cried his name again, a pretty blush diffusing across her pallid skin. The prince hummed “Are you going to come for me sweetling? So soon?”

“Ngh, please, yes Aegon!”

He sped up his movements, feeling her tighten and twitch, the princess on the precipice. Aegon moaned before gathering himself, his pulsing cock was scrambling relative coherency. As it did. He panted, “Gonna count down and I want you to let go okay? Then I’ll fuck your pretty cunt.”

She nodded with lidded eyes, mouth hung open. The picture of ecstasy. Aegon smirked as he spoke.

…10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…

“Oh gods Aegon!”

“Who are you fucking!”

She writhed through the helpless orgasm, confusion evident on her twisting features. Aegon couldn’t help but throb AND be quite annoyed. He slurped the juices off his fingers, leaning back with a look. The prince was feeling sullen and not sure if he wanted to play anymore. His wife stared up at him and echoed “Who…am I fucking. What?”

Aegon pouted. This didn’t go to plan. He rolled his eyes and explained, “You excel, frighteningly so, at our bedroom activities. Yes, yes I know you were still a maiden at our wedding. But I am onto you, I don't know much but I do know about fucking, dearest."

“Are you kidding me? This is ludicrous Aegon!”

She had sat up now, crossing her arms, lips pouty. The prince stated as if it was obvious, “You know your way around a cock. Obviously, this comes with experience. I’ve bedded many a maiden and they usually just stare until you flip them over. So who’s the secret mentor?”

She scoffed in horror, cheeks reddening further, “I can’t believe this Aegon! You’re an idiot! I’m not fucking anyone else! Unlike you!”

“Lies you tell, no spring maiden has gargled my balls!” he accused, face growing equally red in frustration, ringed finger pointing at her.

His sister grew quiet, looking away. She mumbled “Fine. Do you want to know who it is so bad? This stays between us.”

Aegon nodded, impatiently gesturing for her to come out with it. She seemed to grow more uncomfortable. Then spit out a name so low and fast he couldn’t hear. Tonight might be the night he explodes. The prince groaned, “Oh my gods, just say it in a normal tone!”

“Larys Strong!”

What?

He burst into laughter. The prince guffawed, clutching his stomach, shaking with humor. She gaped “What? I’m not lying!” Aegon laughed some more thinking about the foot monger, he’s a bigger virgin than anyone in the keep. He breathlessly chuckled, “Good one, yeah right dear.”

She began to pull on her chemise, annoyed now. Aegon grasped at her thigh, pleading between fits of giggles, “I don’t know why you’re hiding this? I don’t care who you go and find pleasure with. Unless it’s truly Larys. C’monnnn love don’t leave.”

“This isn’t a laughing matter. You’re making up things. What if I’m just good at carnal activities hm Aegon? You're an ass!”

Aegon contemplated the possibility, “Sure, that could be true. Now stop being huffy and come here. I said I’d fuck your pretty pussy.”

She stared down at him before taking her chemise back off. The princess hissed, “You’re a right asshole you know that? You better fuck me good. Prick.”

Aegon laughed again, cheeks hurting from his fit of humor. He maneuvered her onto all fours, sliding his cock against her still-wet folds. He pressed kisses to her shoulder, nosing sweet-smelling hair. He placed a hand on her tight stomach, humming, “I’m sorry dear, I’ll make it better Hm?” He slid in, watching her pretty eyes roll up in her head.

Aegon still wanted to know who his sister was fornicating. She probably was still seeing this person. All he knew was that they resided in the Red Keep and certainly not Larys Strong. The prince had to open his mind to the possibilities of women too. There were many a pretty handmaiden who tended to his wife.

He frowned in thought, sipping his wine. Aegon sat next to his stiff bitch of a brother in the library of all places. Secretly, Aegon hoped the knowledge in the room would give him some magical foresight gift- but not that weird shit Helaena did sometimes.

His wife fucking a handmaiden- that felt too overt. He’d only seen his sister gag and moon over visiting knights and lordlings. Next to Aegon sat his irritated brother. Aemond was quiet, too quiet. He and their sister got along quite well? Aegon's eyes turned to his not-so-little brother.

“Aem.”

“Why are you speaking to me? I’m trying to read.”

“I have a question. That's why, you frozen-faced ass.”

Aemond picked his head up and glared, slamming his book closed. He huffed “What, oh, what, could your drunkenness possibly ask from me? No, I’m not covering your ass again.”

Aegon snorted. His brother was such a frigid quim. He acted like Criston Cole, peacocking around the place, chip on their shoulder. The elder asked “Look. I’ll just be blunt with you. Our sister, my wife. She is merely too good in the sack. Are you fucking her? Is she fucking you?”

Aemond’s jaw audibly clicked in annoyance. He struggled over his tongue, face red. The second son stood up, slamming his hands on the stone. He retreated with a swish of hair and growled, “Buffoon.”

Aegon called after him, “Your behavior has not marked you off my list!”

"Fuck you and your list! Drunkard!!"

Icy little prick. Aegon rolled his eyes, pondering on his next target. Perhaps Jason Lannister? He was wooing any Targaryen princess for his sons. Or possibly Ser Arryk, her sworn shield. Aegon would go to them next. Then maybe do a night check on Aemond’s quarters. His wife was busy with their mother all day anyway. How boring.

Safe to say the prince was still vexed. Jason Lannister laughed in his face and Ser Arryk was extremely confused. He replied in that dumb voice of his, “The princess and I? I’m not that simple your grace. Some of us Kingsguard do take our vows seriously, although I can’t say the same for others.”

He refused to elaborate afterward, Aegon throwing his hands up and moving to the next destination. While walking, he pondered Arryk’s words. Could it be another Kingsguard? Maybe Erryk? Criston had already used up his one allotted Princess fucking and it turned him sour. Erryk would stay on Aegon’s list, the other men too plain ugly or on Dragonstone.

Too annoyed to try any decorum, Aegon simply kicked Aemond’s door open. The younger prince squawked in shock, his hair flying around. Why was there a portrait of Daemon? Why was there another half-finished portrait of Aemond obviously in the same style? Aegon spluttered, “What the fuck? You’re so weird! Daemon? Blech brother!”

Aemond, hair tied back and wearing simple clothes smudged with paint— was positively furious. He hollered, “Get the hell out! I’m not fornicating with our sister! She’s your wife! Say a word of this and I’m making you a Eunuch!”

Aegon was booted out, literally, as in Aemond’s big fucking boot kicked him in the arse.

“Should’ve known. Weirdo,” Aegon grumbled.

He limped back to his quarters, dreadfully needing a sip of wine and someone’s lips around his cock. Today was dreadful. He actually tried to do something. Which trying was rare for him! The prince went to open his door, only to step back when Ser Criston exited.

He raised a brow. Criston looked at him blankly, dark eyes placid. Aegon asked, “What were you doing?” The Kingsguard scoffed, “Your sister was having a fit about a spider, I heard her yowling and killed said spider. Goodnight my prince.”

Aegon glared at the surly marcher, shaking his head and entering the chambers. He immediately went to the table and drank straight from the bottle, deep, deep pulls of relief. The blonde placed it down and sighed, turning towards his bed.

His wife sat there, eyes wide, wearing only her askew shift. Aegon bitched, “Oh. Nice to see you too. Maybe a ‘Hello lord husband, how are you?’ would suffice.”

The Princess’ cheeks were pink. He guessed from the embarrassment of having Ser Criston kill a small bug. Then explained again why Ser Criston had to kill a small bug. She mumbled, “Oh, sorry, I thought you were at the brothels.”

Aegon plopped down in a chair, grabbing the bottle. He whined, “Nope! Been trying to find out who your mystery lover is all day. No one wants to pipe up! I should’ve gone.”

She gazed downwards, biting on swollen lips. The princess stood up on shaky legs, making her way to Aegon and kneeling between his lax thighs. She hummed, tracing a finger up one, feeling the muscle twitch. His sister mused, “Can I take your mind off this mystery lover? You’re much more desirable to me. Don't they say the blood of the dragon reaches out to another?”

“Sure, definitely” he whined again. Aegon would pout this out, it was his specialty. He honestly was hurt, why couldn’t he know their identity? Sure he’d get jealous and probably ban her from seeing them but still! He was sad!

“Am I that unappealing to you?” he whimpered, tears pricking at violet eyes, frustration and self-pity leaking over.

She sighed heavily, wrapping her arms around his midsection. The princess laid her head upon his thigh and cooed, “No. You’re my husband, my blood, we are a union now. That partnership…started because I was afraid you would find me boring. So I wanted to know how to please a man.”

Aegon sulked and sniffled some more, taking another deep drink from his goblet. The familiar fuzz was coming along nicely, patching up his insecurities. But it was nice to hear her admit a smidgeon of truth. She kissed his leg and continued, “Aegon dear, have I not pleased you? It was a transaction between the person and me. They wished to make their identity a secret so as not to catch your wroth. I no longer see them like that. I hate that you’re upset, I did this for you.”

Aegon nodded, feeling a bit better. His sister was good. She easily melted his pouting protocol. The female Targaryen rubbed his thighs and moved her mouth to hover over his clothed cock, eyes looking up as she breathed, “Now baby, just relax and let me make this better, hm?”

He moaned softly as she mouthed over his swelling member, nimble fingers untying his breeches, other hand massaging the soft flesh and meat of his thigh. She eased Aegon’s cock and his sac out, groaning with a flutter of her long lashes. The prince squirmed a bit, breathing heavier, holding off a whine.

“Just you and me, sweet baby.”

She was increasingly convincing kitten licking the ruddy head of his prick like that. The girl’s dainty hand wrapped around his length, the other going to hold his balls, keeping them nice and compressed. Aegon’s back arched when she eased him into a silky wet mouth, tongue massaging the underside as his wife hollowed her mouth.

“Mmm,” she hummed.

Aegon responded with a noise he’d rather not dwell on. It was very…emasculating. Gods, she was so good at this. He needed to get over his qualms and just fuck her so good the princess wouldn't stray again. Good and obedient- all for Aegon. He eased her off gently, demanding, "Lay across the bed. Now."

Wide purple eyes stared at him. She murmured, "What? I- I don't need that, let me take care of you."

Aegon shook his head, grinning, the drink emboldening him. Something about Arbor Red made him impossibly aroused and giddy. He jerked his chin toward the plush bed and laughed. His sister got up, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. She padded and leaned her body over the bed, long legs spread, chemise discarded to display her swollen cunt to him.

Aegon pulled off his breeches as he stalked over, eyes drinking in her pussy. He smacked a hand across her ass and grabbed the stinging flesh. He asked roughly "Did your mystery lover sneak out the servant's exit when Ser Criston heard your yowling?"

"Yes, yes! Sorry, fucking yes!" she shouted.

Aegon's face darkened at her puffy and slick cunt, obvious signs of someone having a feast down there. He ran the blunt tip of his swollen cock across her folds, groaning as he smacked her clit. The prince snapped "You're a goddamn lying slut you know that? A match made in heaven with me huh? Did Ser Criston walk in when you were getting your cunt licked?" He wound a fist in her blonde tresses, pulling it tight.

She shivered and shook her head, whining, "N-ohh, he didn't see!"

"Hm, sure, probably took a peak, the weird bitch. Whatever, I guess I'll have to fuck this person out of your mind? Or you're coming with me to the brothels sister dearest."

He slid into her tight hole, gasping at the ridges and warmth. Aegon tightened the fist in her hair. Maybe he'd fuck a babe in her tonight, then she'd be stuck in his quarters surrounded by maesters and tittering handmaidens. Eugh. Aegon huffed and fucked her at a brisk pace, his other hand smacking her ass every other thrust.

His sister-wife moaned, taking his cock like she was made for it. She fucked back onto him, back arched, tits bouncing. Her cheeks were delightfully flushed as she panted Aegon's name, eyes wet and wide. Aegon leaned over her form and growled, "Don't know who this fucker is but I will find out. He better know whose cunt this is, eh? Shout it, tell the whole goddamn keep who you belong to, sister."

Aegon relished in her little whimper, his fingers pinching her clit as he forced her hips up to drive into her good spot harder. He bit and lapped at her neck, hissing, "C'mon and say it or I'll lock your ass up here with no visitors. Just me and I'll get my fill, fucking snake." She blubbered, seizing around his cock a hair.

"Oh gods, please don't make me howl like that, Aegon, please!"

He fucked the princess rougher, holding her gaze with a tight grip around her chin. She bit her lip, eyes mournful before shouting, "Only you Aegon, I belong to you, yes big brother! Yes! I belong to my husband!"

Aegon grinned like the cat that got the cream. He cooed, "Good little sister, knew you still had it in you." He gripped her throat and refocused on fucking her until she cried. Aegon pinched and licked, played with her tits, circled her clit until she came all over him- yet the prince was still fit to go. Sweet sister was a mess now- covered in bites and hickeys, sweaty hair plastered to her neck. The younger blonde whimpered, "Aeg- Aegon, I- I can't possibly do this again!"

Her eyes were frantic, her cute body shaking and coming apart wondrously. Aegon hummed, "You will come for me again sweetling. I know you can, just whining on my prick like you were paid for it? Does he fuck you like this huh? Make you see stars?"

"N-noooo, only you!"

"Good girl, come on now, wanna feel that sweet pussy of yours cream around me one more time. Then I'll fill you up deep- maybe he won't come around when you are all ripe with," he punctuated his next words with thrusts, "My. Goddamn. Child."

The princess wailed softly, overused and overstimulated. She felt the crest of another burning orgasm flaring up and forcing red hot tears down her blotchy cheeks. It was intense and she cried harder when Aegon's thick seed stuffed her twitching cunt and womb to the brim. He seemed to be satisfied now, cooing at her, "There we go, ffuck, that's my sweet girl. See, don't need anyone else around now hm?"

Aegon wiped her gorgeous tears, smiling victoriously. She cuddled into his arms, letting her husband soothe and stroke her trembling flesh. He even hollered for a servant to grab some water. The prince murmured, "You did so good, such a good wife, yes, maybe just a bit of punishment does sweet sister well." He grew quieter and pressed a kiss to her soft forehead, "I love you, truly, for tolerating a failure like me."

She smiled softly and pecked Aegon's full lips, her own swollen from tonight. Aegon wiped her tears as she sighed, "I love you too Aegon. Buffoon you may be. I hope the seed takes. No more about mystery lovers. The whole keep has heard now sweetheart."

Aegon smirked, hoping every single soul heard.

One soul in particular did, his black gloves tightening in annoyance. He was down the hall before turning back and having to hear the heir...rudely fuck his sister-wife. With a growl and swish of the cloak, the true mystery lover was gone. She'd be back in his arms sooner or later. Aegon couldn't fuck him out of her soft heart.

#aegon ii targaryen #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x sister!reader #aegon ii imagine #the very obvious sidepiece lmfao

265 notes · View notes

ferida-kahlo · 9 months

Text

♡ Hotline ♡

Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader

Summary: You and Mikey have been casually seeing each other for a few weeks. After a late night text from him, you make the drunken insomniac executive decision of calling him back. Naughtiness ensues.

Or: the one where you and Michael have phone sex.

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, M/F. Minors DNI // PWP, P!rn With Feelings. Phone sex, flirting, teasing, sexual innuendos, dirty talking, mentions of oral sex (m. receiving), masturbation (m. and f.), sexual fantasies, role-playing scenarios, librarian k!nk, mentions of rough sex. // Blink-and-you-miss-it angst, alcohol use, mentions of insomnia, anxiety and self esteem issues.

Word count: 3.8k

Read below the cut OR on AO3

Notes: Reader wears glasses in this - don't look at me like that, it's integral to the plot 🙄

For the history nerds, the quote at the beginning is from the book "Fire from Heaven" by Mary Renault, about the relationship between Alexander the Great and his friend and lover, Hephaestion.

Enjoy! As always, likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated ♡

His feelings were confused; he wanted to grasp till Alexander's very bones were somehow engulfed within himself, but knew this to be wicked and mad; he would kill anyone who harmed a hair of his head…

… you yawned at the page you’d been reading (i.e., staring at without absorbing a single bit of information), before turning your head to the nightstand and seeing the clock mark 2:49 am.

“Good god”, you whispered, tiredly rubbing your face with one hand, while the other reached for the half-full glass of red wine keeping you company in your insomnia.

Technically, you knew drinking was the last thing you should be doing on a weeknight, when you were having a hard time falling asleep and were expected at work in the morning. But living alone was really not helping you behave like a responsible adult with bills to pay. So, you slowly sip your wine, read your book, and hope that eventually your brain will give up and allow you to pass out for at least a few hours.

Suddenly, your phone lights up with a text. Michael B., it says on the screen. A pang of excitement hits you, and you immediately scoff for reacting so earnestly to a text from a guy you’ve been with (not even biblically, just the daytime coffee dates that people with busy lives manage to pack into a crazy week) for a grand total of two times and less than two hours, overall. Not pathetic at all.

Still, you can’t help but reach for the phone.

Hey, I know it’s late and you probably won’t read this until morning, sorry. Wanna have dinner at that spot we talked about? I can pick you up at the office ;) – M.

You smile, and without really thinking, hit the call button.

He picks up quickly, an amused tone in his voice. “Well, I was not expecting that. What the hell are you still doing up, princess? No work tomorrow?”

You laugh. “God, I wish. I just can’t sleep. Haven’t had one of these nights in a while… my brain won’t shut up, even though I’m so tired I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck”.

“Ooof. That fucking sucks.”

“Yup.”

“Well, I’m glad to be your booty call in this desperate time.”

“Michael”, you laugh so hard you choke on some wine and must set the glass back on the table. “I really don’t think that’s what this is”.

“Oh, no?”, he feigns innocence.

“No…”, chuckling, you continue with the most sultry, mock-seductive voice you can muster “… a booty call is if I was like: Sooo, Mikey… are you, like, busy right now? Do you wanna… come over? I’m aaall alone…”.

You make sure to put particular emphasis on the word ‘come’ and Mike sounds like he is doubling over with laughter. “That was the worst proposition I have ever heard, no doubt”.

“Oh, yeah? Well, you’re officially off my booty call list. I don’t need this kind of negativity in my life.”

“Ah, shit… I fucked up now, didn’t I?”, you swear you can hear his grin from the other end of the line. And see the laugh lines that form on the corner of his eyes when he smiles genuinely, the rare but so cute nose crinkle that makes your belly flutter…

You would love to get a fucking grip, thank you very much, but the wine was making you incapable of keeping a level head in this flirtation.

“Well… all is not lost. Taking me out to dinner is a good start to redeem yourself. If your game is on point tomorrow, your booty call list status might be revised… in the not-so-far future”, you add, suggestively.

“Shit. Now the stakes are on. I gotta be on my best behavior tomorrow, then”.

“I don’t know about best behavior…”. You feel like slapping yourself for your lack of subtlety.

He chuckles. “So… you like them a little nasty, huh?”

You’re glad he can’t see you blush furiously. “Not like that… but I do like a man who isn’t afraid to… take what he wants. Respectfully, of course.”

“Of course… damn, girl. You’re getting me thinking about all sorts of things…”

“Well, you’re the one who started talking about booty calls. It’s technically your fault”.

“That’s fucking rich. I was being a gentleman, sent you a sweet text and all. Not a single sex reference!”, he says, proudly.

“Ok, that is true”, you concede, laughing softly. “Are you still at the restaurant?”

He sighs deeply. “Yeah… paperwork coming out of my eyeballs. I don’t even understand how the hell I organized this mess”. You hear rustling through the line, and imagine the mess of letters, invoices and bills that must be covering his office desk.

“That fucking sucks”.

“Word”. His chair squeaks loudly. “So… what are you wearing?”

You laugh. “You’re unbelievable”.

“What? I’m just trying to keep the conversation light, you know? Nobody wants to hear about my fuckin’ paperwork at 3 am”.

It was subtle, but you could sense something deeper in his words (sadness? self-deprecation?).

“I wouldn’t mind hearing about your ‘fuckin’ paperwork’ at any time of day, Michael”.

The line goes silent, and you fear you went too deep, too soon. Made this weird in record time, wow.

“I didn’t mean it like… I meant if you want to talk to me about your shitty day, you know, you can, but I don’t want you to be uncomf-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay sweetheart. I get it… thank you for that”, he says, softly. “Maybe some other time. Right now, I honestly just wanna forget about this for a little while... I was really pumped when you called”.

“That’s okay. Really?” You smile, relieved.

“Yeah, really. So… wanna make a guy happy and tell him what you’re wearing?”

With a chuckle, you concede. “Well, nothing. I’m in bed and I sleep naked, so… yeah”.

There’s a heavy pause. “Holy shit. Are you for real?”

“Um, yeah?”

“Jesus, fuck… baby, you can’t say stuff like that and expect me to be normal about it”.

You grin, having just decided that, actually, you wanna play dirty.

“Who says I want you to be normal about it? Besides”, you throw back, suggestively, “I hardly think a woman can be held accountable for what she says after four glasses of wine on a Thursday night… naked and alone, in such a big bed…”

“Now, see, that was a much better pitch for a booty call than the first o-”

“I’m gonna hang up.”

“No, no, no, I’m sorry”, he laughs.

“You’re an asshole”. Even as you say it, you’re smiling.

“And you are a minx, lady. Gettin’ a guy all worked up…”

“Oh, my... I don’t know what you mean…”, you whisper into the comforter, now balled up in your fist over your mouth, as if to cover up your blushing cheeks from an invisible audience.

“Oh, I disagree… I think you know exactly what you’re doing”. There’s a note of sarcasm in his voice you find exhilarating. A sudden noise – like a chair squeaking loudly on a panel floor – can be heard from his end. Followed by… a metallic rattle, more subtle but still clear. A… belt unbuckling?

Wait. Is he…?

You grin, amused. “Mr. Berzatto… I’m hearing suspicious noises. What is going on over there?”

A deep grunt. “Nothin’ much, sweetheart. Just making myself comfortable, is all”.

“And how exactly are you doing that, mister?”

“You know… freeing the junk.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Well, that certainly helps set the mood”.

“Hm… baby, can I ask you for something? It’s totally fine if you don’t wanna do it… but I figure I might as well shoot my shot.”

You notice you are sitting up very still against the pillows in your bed, holding your breath in anticipation. “Sure… what is it?”

A heavy pause follows. Your heart feels like it’s about to beat itself out of your ribcage, your throat feels dry, and your tongue sits heavy and thick in your mouth, the taste of wine suddenly overpowering your senses. And you are so horny.

“Could you… send me a photo of you right now? Are you wearing those new glasses?”. He sounds… eager, almost nervous with the way he trips over the second question.

Oh. Something clicks for you, then. You smile. “So, you really liked the new glasses, huh?”

“Shit… c’mon, don’t bust my balls about it”, he says, with an embarrassed chuckle of admission.

“I’m not! It’s very flattering, actually”. You hope you conveyed how much you are not making fun of him. However, you hate misunderstandings, and to dispel any that might be going on here, you decide there is only one acceptable solution.

“Give me a minute”, you tell him, determined. You don’t wait for an answer before you drop your phone and get to work.

Meanwhile, Mikey sits in his rusty office chair, in what he thinks must look like a very… undignified position. Cock out, right hand stroking it lazily, slumped back with his jeans barely down his ass, work shirt dirty and stinking of cooking oil, his entire body tense in a mix of anticipation and shame. A part of him can’t help but wonder if you are fucking with him: laughing from the other end of the line, leaving him hanging – literally and figuratively (he chuckles dejectedly at the realization that he still remembers something from high school Lit class). He guesses he would kinda deserve that. What type of freak asks for nudes after two… dates? Do those rapid-fire coffee-grabs even count? He is so shit at this. Anything more than a casual hook-up or a quickie behind a sleezy pub is rocket science for him. ‘Congrats, loser! You just fucked it, yet again’.

Then, his phone pings. 5 photos received.

In the first one, you are lying on your side, in bed, a dim warm light illuminating the scene. He can see the contours of your body clearly, despite being covered by a layer of nearly sheer white sheets. His gaze follows your exposed collarbone, to the silhouette of your breasts – he is sure you purposefully allowed a bit of side-boob to slip past the entrapment of sheets… just for him.

He swears he could stare at the shapes of your body all day and never get tired – or limp. His dick is throbbing painfully, now.

It does not get better when he sees the rest of the photos. Your face is visible, on those. The last two are his favorites. You are laying on your stomach, with the reading glasses on, as promised – except they sit lower on your nose than usual, so that your eyes peak out from over the top of the frames. Your hair is down, tousled and wild like it’s just gotten messed up. ‘Is this what she looks like after…’. You are holding a glass of wine to your mouth – lips plump and lightly tinged red – that detail drives him a little insane –, and in front of you lays a book, delicately held open with your other hand. And in the last photo, the sheets have slipped lower down your breasts, revealing a generous cleavage. You’re staring directly at the camera with an inquiring gaze, biting your lower lip. ‘Come get me’.

“… Mike? Are you still there?”

It’s been some time since you sent the photos (twenty seconds, which your anxiety tells you is actually half an hour), with no reaction from him. Your cheeks heat up, and you suddenly feel very silly and insecure. Are they even… good? What makes a good nude? Do these even qualify as nudes? You’re not showing anything super explicit… they’re suggestive, at best. Is he going to think you’re a prude? God, why is this so diff-

Mike clears his throat. “Yeah, I… fuck. Fuckin’ hell. Holy shit. Sweetheart… these are so hot. Jesus… thank you so much. You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous…”. The last part comes out as a whisper, like he’s starstruck.

You didn’t know it was possible to get more flustered than you already were. “You’re welcome… I’m flattered I managed to make Michael Berzatto incoherent over some low-res thirst trap selfies.”

“Baby, these are genuinely the hottest pics I’ve ever seen. You look like a hot librarian or something”.

You laugh out loud, triumphantly. “Ah! I knew it!”

“What?”, he laughs along.

“Something you wanna share with the class, Mr. Berzatto?”.

“Fuck, don’t stop calling me that, sweetheart”, he says, sounding out of breath.

“Yeah?”, you whisper.

“Fuck, yeah. It’s just… I’ve got a thing for girls with a kinda nerdy, librarian type of vibe, you know? And when I saw you this last time, holding a book and wearing your reading glasses… I gotta admit, my mind went straight to the gutter.”

Interesting. “Really? What did you imagine then?”.

A pause. “I’m not sure you want to hear it… I don’t want you thinking I’m a pervert or something”.

You sigh. “Mikey, I just sent you near-naked photos of me. We’re having phone sex. We are two horny adults having fun. Besides…”, you switch your tone to what you hope comes across as faux innocence, “… I asked you about it. It is kinda my fault, right? I guess I was kind of… bad”.

“Oh, is that what’s happening?”. He chuckles, as if saying challenge accepted. “Alright, then. When I saw you like that for the first time, this image popped into my head, right? I mean, you looked like a really hot librarian. So, I started picturing you in that scenario, with big glasses and all – just like the photos you sent me… except you had your hair in a cute ponytail, and your lips were even redder with lipstick… and you were wearing fishnet stockings up to your thighs – fuck, you got such nice legs, baby –, and you had a pair of those… what are they called. Uh, kitten heels. Yeah. Fuck, your ass would look unbelievable like that. I mean, it is unbelievable, you know what I mean? When you show up at the restaurant wearing those cute little dresses and skirts, I feel my dick twitching in my pants… that’s how hot you are, baby… that’s how crazy you make me feel.”

His words were streaming out like an avalanche – a filthy stream-of-consciousness. Flash images of all the times you were together pop into your mind. He was always nice and polite to you, if cheeky – that was his personality, after all. You’d never felt disrespected or threatened around him. Maybe that’s why, now that you knew he had been actively thinking about you like this… you were very turned on.

“Too much, sweetheart? You wanna keep listening to this filth?”

“… yeah, Mikey. Keep going. What happened then?”

“Then, I took you to a hidden corner in the library, rucked up your pretty little skirt and ripped your real nice dress shirt open… you know, so I could suck on your tits while I fucked you hard against some shelves. Didn’t even need to rip your panties off, ‘cause you weren’t wearing any. Just lifted you up and slammed my cock right into your pussy… God, you were drippin’ wet for me, and you mewled so sweetly… loud, too. Had to shove my fingers into your pretty mouth to keep you quiet. That’s what I imagined, sweetheart. More or less.”

The crass and vivid way in which he described his fantasy made you speechless. It was exhilarating. Knowing that all those times he had talked to you with a straight face, he had been actively fantasizing about fucking you hard. His words.

“Jesus Christ, Mikey”, you breathe out. “That’s… I can’t believe we had entire conversations while you had a cheap porn flick playing in your head”, you laugh softly, unconvincingly.

He sighed deeply. “See, I knew this was a bad idea… honey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel like shit. I guess I’m just a fucking perv-”

“Babe…”, you interrupt him, gentle, but firm, “shut up, please. I’m messing with you. I told you, it’s very flattering that you’re attracted to me. In fact… it’s super hot. Knowing you were having all those dirty thoughts about me while still being a gentleman… is making me feel all kinds of things, right now.”

“Yeah? What kinds of things?”

“Good things, Mikey… I’m so wet right now”, you mewl, the need for release in your core overwhelming the embarrassment you would be feeling otherwise. Without thinking, you kick the sheets away from your body and cup one of your breasts, kneading it and flicking your nipple – a moan leaves your mouth in a desperate plea.

“Fuck”, he whispers, “you got wet over that filth? Jesus Christ, baby. I won the fuckin’ lottery”.

You are burning with desire, and you can feel your pussy throbbing when you finally give in, sliding one hand down and shoving two fingers inside with barely any resistance. “Mikey… I wanna come so bad. Can you talk me through it… please?”

“Fuck… yeah, sweetheart, anything you want”. He moans, then, and you don’t think you have ever been so turned on in your life. Mikey Berzatto, a horny, moaning mess, jerking off in his mess of an office at 3 am… because of you.

Chicago’s Helen of Troy. You chuckled softly at the thought and decided to up the ante. “Baby… do you know what I was thinking when you were telling that beautiful story just now?”

He laughs, voice recked. “What, baby?”

You pout, and add another finger in, increasing the pace of the thrusts. “I wish you had pictured kissing me real hard, while I unbuckled your belt… would you let me get down on my knees for you, baby? I really wanna have you in my mouth, Mikey, like, right now”. Your words come out broken, sentences all messed up – you sound pathetic, but you are so past caring.

“Shit-”, a gasp, followed by a deep breath and the noise of something hitting a surface really hard. “… holy shit. Baby, I imagined all that and a whole lot more – seriously, you have no idea. Hell, if the lady wants to suck my dick, who am I to deny her, uh? Fuck. Would you let me fuck your mouth, baby…?”

You moan loudly at that and realize you need both hands, putting the phone on speaker – fuck the neighbors – and bringing your other hand to your clit, rubbing lightly, but fast. You were so close. The thought of kneeling on the floor, clothes and hair all messed up from Mikey’s hands, lipstick smudged… looking up at him, and watching his composure unravel because of you…

“Hm… yeah, Mikey, I think I would… ‘cause you’re so nice to me… such a gentleman, even when you’re fucking me hard… would you ask me real nice, baby? Hold my face gently in your big hands, while you fuck it?”

“Fuck, baby… I would treat you so right, you deserve everything-”, he chokes up and, for a few moments, you hear a distant cacophony of noises, like he’s put the phone down. Then, he’s back. “Sorry, sweetheart, I need both hands now”, he chuckles.

You giggle, “Me too… you got me so hot I’m fucking myself on my fingers and rubbing my clit at the same time… and it’s still not enough. I need you…”

“Fuck, that’s so hot. You fuckin’ yourself because of me… I know it’s not enough, baby… you need my cock, don’t you?”

“Yes! Mikey… please…”, you howl, completely out of your mind.

“How do you want me to fuck you, baby? Hm? Want it nice and slow? Nah… I think you like it fast and rough, don’t you? Long as I keep kissing you real good, touchin’ you real gentle, all over your body… you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”. How he manages to say such filthy things with so much honey dripping from every syllable, is beyond you.

“Yeah, fuck, baby… it doesn’t matter. I’m so wet already, you don’t need to do anything else, just hoist me up in your arms and pin me against the shelves… and shove it in me”.

You are still holding onto a shred of decency because you blush at your own crass admission – still, there is clearly not a whole lot left, as you start rubbing your clit and fucking yourself harder and faster. “I don’t want you to be gentle when you fuck me… I just need to feel your cock stretch me open… wanna feel the sting of it for days, be at work and not be able to focus because all I can think about is how you fucked me so good-”

At this point, you have no idea if he can understand anything you’re saying, because your words are intercut with moans and gasps and mewls and incoherent babble, as you’re about to reach your peak imagining Mikey’s on top of you, railing you into the bed.

“Baby, I’m gonna come… fuckin’ Christ”.

“Mikey- fuck!”.

Your body shakes and your eyes roll back from the strength of your orgasm. Distantly, your brain registers a broken string of moans and curses from the other end of the line.

A few seconds pass, and you feel yourself coming back down to Earth. You lazily stretch out on the bed, completely relaxed and fucked out. “That’s so cute… we came at the same time, babe”, you happily whisper, a ditsy smile on your face.

He huffs, amused “Yeah… what can I say? I’m a romantic at heart”.

You laugh sincerely. “This was… so good, actually. I’m glad I gave into my instinct and called you”.

“Well, I’m even more sticky now”. You both laugh at that. “But I’m also glad you called… like, really glad. Uh, can I ask you something?”

You notice a shift in his voice.

“Yeah… what is it?”

“I don’t want things to get weird between us after this… Like, I don’t want you to feel like you need to do all these things to get me off. You know what I mean? It’s just a fantasy… I’ll have you in any way you want me. Okay?”

You feel a tightness in your chest, and you wish, not for the first time tonight, you had him right in front of you so you could kiss him all over and hug him.

“Mikey… I genuinely liked tonight. And the more we talk, the more I like you. You’re not the only one who feels like you won the lottery…”.

“Baby… you’re too sweet. Don’t you think you already got me blushing enough for one night?”

“That’s fucking rich. I must’ve gone through all shades of red tonight, because of your filthy mouth”.

“Please. You loved it”, he chuckles.

“Yeah, I guess I did”, you concede, with a smile.

After saying goodbye – and confirming that yes, you would very much like for him to pick you up and take you to dinner later – you fall asleep fast, your mind finally catching up to the pleasant tiredness in your body, a soft smile on your lips.

#smut #michael berzatto x reader #michael berzatto #mikey berzatto x reader #mikey berzatto #mike berzatto x reader #mike berzatto #jon bernthal #the bear #the bear fx #the bear fic

412 notes · View notes

sensitive-neuvi-enthusiast · 6 months

Text

Watching a Scary movie with Getou

He gets off on hearing you scream and cry from how scary the movie is.

Warnings: dacryphillia, rough sex, fear kink, yall have sex on the couch

A/N: Nsfw, not proofread. It's a mess, but you will be too♡

"Please? I promise I won't get scared this time!" You asked, pleading with your big eyes, hands folded in front of your face. How could Suguru possibly deny you? He wouldn't. Even if he knew what would happen. With a sigh, he ran a hand down his face before nodding. Your squeals entered his ears as you jumped up and down, quickly attaching yourself to his body. Your breasts pushed up, and flush against his arm. You were killing him.

He patted you on the head before peeling you off him, moving to lounge lazily on the couch. Your cute-self bounding over, so happy your boyfriend agreed to watch this movie with you! You didn't know why he'd stopped all of a sudden, but that didn't matter now.

You put on the movie and got comfortable, snuggling close to his body. Eyes glued to the screen while he was glued to you. He could care less about the movie. Suguru knew you'd get scared. It was inevitable. Your little body curled in on itself, shivering from fear as you jumped. Clinging onto his arm as you screamed, sometimes sniffling if the scare was too bad and made you cry.

It never failed to make his dick strain against his pants.

This is why he had opted out of watching these movies with you. It always led to a masked boner he had to take care of in the bathroom afterward. But you had insisted, you'd have to deal with the consequences.

About ten minutes into the movie, the first scare happened. And you did exactly as he thought you would. Jumping an inch out of your skin, pressing your tits closer to his arm as you screamed. His cock twitched, hardening almost immediately at the sight. But you didn't notice. With one hand, he subtly rubbed at his member, hoping to ease the ache. And it helped, until it didn't. Another scare and another shaky movement from you, your breath wavering. Fuck.

"Here baby, sit in my lap. That should help." He spoke gently, betraying the horny thoughts currently clouding through his mind. You nodded, climbing onto his lap as you laid back against him. Did you feel his cock? He wondered, his arms snaking around your waist. If you did, you didn't comment on it. Too absorbed in your movie. That's okay.

....

"Sugu...ah, can't watch.." you moaned, your hands splayed on his thighs as he fucked up into you. His hair tickled your back as he rested his chin on your shoulder. "Watch for me, baby. I like hearing you scream. Turns me on so much-fuck." So you tried, your eyes bleary with tears as you focused on the TV. Another jumpscare made you flinch, pushing his cock deeper inside you. He groaned, continuing his movements. "Yeah baby, you scared? Mm-fuck, I can hear you crying. So fucking beautiful." He couldn't take it. Each shiver and sniffle brought him closer and closer to his release. His hands sought out your tits, grabbing them harshly as moaned against your ear.

"Please..please...can't, too much...s'too much. Sugu, oh fuck-ah!"

You screamed again, only this time it was from sharp teeth sinking into your neck. A low groan made by your ear as you felt him twitch, shooting ropes of his creamy cum inside you. Painting your walls white as he whimpered slightly. Fuck, he'd cum a lot. But then he started to move again, hissing from the sensitivity.

"You're still scared, right? Let me help you."

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #geto suguru #jjk geto #geto smut #jujutsu geto #geto x female reader

317 notes · View notes

azaracyy · 3 months

Text

to the next stage of our adventure! digimon survive week 2024 day 7: post-game / future personal thoughts under the cut - less about the artwork and more about shuuji and lopmon themselves. a long rambling containing major spoilers and heavy topics. will cause whiplash. proceed with caution.

other than the fact this may be boring and long-winded, cw and tw: there will be mentions of self-harm and suicide. if these topics make you uncomfortable, please step back. if you're sure, then alright. i'm aware this is a weird place to ramble about shuuji and lopmon considering the notorious highlight of their story would match the themes of day 5 (villains) and day 6 (dark & loss) better. unfortunately (ironically?) i never planned to feature them for those days, so... pretty sure i'm not the only one feeling this, but when i discovered that a good part of the fandom seems to loathe shuuji with utmost passion, even after they claimed to have completed the game, i was confused. the way his death happened and (understanding) the cause made me uncomfortable for a while, but never drove me to the point of hate... once i recovered from the initial shock, what i felt towards him was more pity, then respect (on truthful route). i feel shuuji should have been one of the most appreciated characters in survive. yet it was the opposite that happened. (between you and me though, knowing there was this discourse with the fact digimon survive is a visual novel, i'm not that surprised it turned out this way...) from my point of view, lopmon evolving into wendimon then killing shuuji symbolizes suicide, the act of taking one's own life. it was the climax of shuuji's mental breakdown, leading him to basically self-destruct, causing damage to everyone around him and ultimately himself. lopmon evolved, just like he hoped. but failed to do it like other kemonogami partners (maintaining control of themselves and fending off enemies). the next and final outcome was death, through his own partner actually eating him alive too. it reminds me how when someone thought they have prepared well for something important yet it failed spectacularly, the devastation and frustration would eat them in the same way from inside. and they probably would for one second think, "i'm better off dead". the more i pondered about it, the more it hit home, so of course, the last thing i could do is hate him, when his struggles sound similar to my own - having to rely on consistent achievements to prove your value, to feel you are worth living and not a waste of resources. the part where shuuji went all abusive on lopmon felt like the equivalent of pushing yourself to the extreme to reach your goal, to the point of neglecting your own needs. it's like a student so absorbed in their study, sacrificing food and sleep, until their body eventually snaps and shuts down for good (...this in fact happened to one of the students at my previous workplace. she was in her last year of high school. life was just about to truly start for her when her classmate informed us of her sudden death). even in truthful route where shuuji and lopmon survive that point, things aren't immediately nice and easy for him. you can see that he still has self-doubts, and what i think is impostor's syndrome. he could be making a great contribution to the team and still put himself down for having done "nothing". i have found it interesting that artists and writers tend to be especially fond of shuuji. so perhaps it's not just the matter of one's upbringing - whether you were raised in a harsh, competitive environment and/or with family with (unreasonably) high standards so you can relate more easily to him - but also whether one can see just what every struggle shuuji and lopmon went through symbolizes shuuji's mental state. out of all survive characters, i think shuuji and lopmon pulled off this thing called "surviving" the hardest, no joke. which is why i almost always gravitate to drawing them happy because that's what they deserve :') after all this, what i also would like to say is, it's okay if a character makes you uncomfortable. it's okay if you hate a character. but never, ever bring down the character to people who like them or even consider them their favorite or comfort character. if you must, do it in your own space and only with like-minded people.

#digimon #digimon survive #shuuji kayama #lopmon #survive week #survive week 2024 #obligatory shuuji-focused post where i make myself go a bit ✨ extra ✨#sorry for the long rambling tho i just thought i never had the chance to put this in words and this time i really want to do it #thanks for being patient with me :')#so i didnt manage to post for all days after all but i still have the ideas and sketches #if i ever finish them i will post and tag #if we have another survive week next year i hope i can actually prepare early so i could just schedule posts like a boss #then enjoy every submission without having to worry about finishing my next one #back to commissions starting tomorrow o7 updated my vgen listings recently so feel free to look around if you'd like #let's keep surviving y'alls #png

90 notes · View notes

thefayecoven · 7 months

Text

Do people talk about Stevedrian (Steve x Adrian) on here? This is a crack ship I found on tiktok that caught my eye because of how absurd it was , and I ended up making a bunch of screenshot edits / art of them.

(I doubt it will but if this art catches your eye and you redistribute it remember to credit me-)

Tumblr has been lacking on content from me (sorry) so I’ll spill some details :3 In my extended owl house S3 AU, the Hexside students aren’t exactly without adult figures !

In the aftermath of the day of Unity, Steve manages to save Adrian and they end up traveling together upon not having many options + due to Steve’s general compassion and having related to Adrian’s sibling troubles, as he was having some of his own (Mattholomule heavily upset with him for knowing about the mission to put sigils on Hexside students and not putting a stop to it).

I’ll tap into Adrian’s backstory / his sibling and parents in another post, but long story short, Steve makes up with Matt and is permitted to stay to help with the efforts against the collector, and Adrian is permitted to stay solely because his sibling in Hexside hesitantly vouches for him under the guise of him being able to give them vital information only a coven head would know. And thus begins a Steve and Adrian rebellion partnership !

Even their acquaintanceship is rocky at first. This crack ship is definitely not an immediate thing, and romance isn’t even on the table until months after, so def not one of those stories if that’s what you’re looking for.

They don’t really have much of a choice other than to build a bond with one another given that they’re the only adults in the New Hexside boarding situation, but they do eventually. I’m lacking on details at the moment because I haven’t fully run through episodes (though I have lots of ideas!!) but Steve’s growing fondness of Adrian comes with Adrian’s development as a person.

Steve is civil to him in the beginning because that’s the kind of person he is, not because he liked Adrian or was fond of his personality. Adrian is a very selfish, vain individual after all.

It’s only after he begins to defend the students more, engage in teamwork, become less self absorbed and more of a caring individual (to a degree..) and focus more on those around him than himself and his needs that Steve is able to genuinely take a liking to him.

On the other hand, Steve doesn’t need to change as a person for Adrian to take a liking to him. Adrian just needed to get his head out of the gutter, aka unlearning asshole behavior that made him cold , uncompassionate and uncaring towards.. everyone 💀 it’s only when he slowly begins to unlearn this trait of his that he’s able to appreciate Steve more, and the two can equally care for one another.

As for any romance, I guarantee they had a smooch or two right when Belos was defeated, but completely forgot about it and/or avoided the topic for as long as possible until they finally got together or whatever. I’m more for dynamic over romantic tropes so if I ever write them as a couple it’s not gonna be spectacular. I can draw it though!

Speaking of which, timeskip Steve and Adrian incoming as my final screenshot edit lmaooo

#the owl house #the owl house au #toh #toh fanart #toh au #adrian graye #adrian graye vernworth #steve toh #steve tholomule #steve the owl house #crack ship #toh s3 #the owl house s3

56 notes · View notes

battle-of-mid · 1 year

Note

iwould like to hear your rant about lmk wukong's character assassination. In detail. if possible. please

(takes long drag of cigarette) it really did all start with the show itself coming out. see, after ROTTMNT came out, i don't think we could really expect flying bark to be "faithful" to its IPs and while whether that was a good thing for the TMNT franchise is absolutely something that can be discussed by people that aren't me, it's a whole lot more sensitive when you're handling a show based on a cultural treasure -

LEGO's line of toys dedicated to a sort of journey of the west spinoff is, in my opinion, an objectively good idea. other than boosting sales it feels kind of inevitable considering just how much LNY stuff they'd put out already, you know? to put it simply i don't have any problems with the lego monkie kid IP in concept, just with the way FB decided to run with its execution -- which ended up landing it squarely in "hot mess" territory.

basically - and i promise that this is relevant to wukong specifically, bear with me - i think that the first red flags were the fixation on their rendition of the six-eared macaque: a character that they've changed from being a single-use "evil twin" character that served the original Journey to the West's allegory for enlightenment (ie. that he was a manifestation of SWK's worst impulses) and then immediately fucking died when the situation called for it. he didn't show up for more than one storyline. they retcon a looooot of SWK's actual backstory as detailed by the book itself in order to make room for sadboy LEMH content so the writers could get their shipfix for him and SWK (which is annoying on more than one point, if you remember what I said about the evil twin thing. if you catch my drift. average flying bark moment)

but to put it simply i genuinely think they just made him... way too much of a lazy fucking self absorbed asshole? the beginning of the show has this which feels like a one-off gag but they double down on it later which makes they didn't write sun wukong -- this is after he's supposed to have ascended to victorious-in-strife buddha, mind you, and it ends up feeling less like sun wukong at any point in the storyline and more like... well, goku. from dragon ball super. which is its own, mostly unrelated can of worms in and of itself.

the thing is this is a character that's been used historically as an allegory, as representative of the people, objectively a cultural icon no matter where in china-influenced asia you find yourself (fantastic analysis of the problem with the way LMK pays homage to that allegory here), and also used in reference to, like, diaspora kids. this is a character that baaasically any chinese person with any kind of connection to the culture is going to see themselves in - especially in his reckless identity and subsequent ascension, you know?

and the main problem here is essentially that when you do this with a character that exsits as part of a media franchise... it's fine? it's whatever. people can just skip that. but when you are doing this as an attempt to adapt a piece of historically and culturally important literature - one that is made for children, one that is infinitely more accessible to diaspora children of that culture than any other adaptation that would be directed towards their age demographic, it feels like a punch in the gut. it's a level of disrespect that just really really hurts, all because the people in charge of it feel like they have to flanderize their characters for their fandom or they'll, like, die.

this isn't exactly organized nor is it every thought i have on the matter but basically tldr they forgot they were writing sun wukong and not their oc

93 notes · View notes

romeulusroy · 1 year

Text

Dating Connor Roy Would Include:

Requested: Lovedddd the preferences with the succession characters, got me really inspired to possibly request a general dating headcanons for Connor Roy possibly? - anon

A/N: Y'all, idc what anyone says, Connor deserves love just as much as the rest of them. I hope this headcanon does his character justice, my love!!! Ty for requesting!!! Feedback is appreciated!!! 💜💜💜

Connor truly just wants to be loved. He wants to be loved in a way that makes up for all the time he wasn't, for all the time he felt unlovable, all the time he was forgotten over and over again

You and Connor meet at one of Waystar Royco's annual galas. You're a friend of a friend going because you were forced to. When you started talking, you hadn't even known Connor was a Roy. He said nothing, just laughed and agreed, when you started to shit talk Logan and everything his company stood for

It wasn't until after you'd exchanged numbers did you realize, immediately apologizing for what you said. He merely shrugged, assuring you his Pops had a reputation, that he was a lot better once you met him. You doubted it, but agreed anyways

Since then, you'd been together

Connor called you the day after the gala, wondering if you were free that Friday, if you'd like to go out with him. You weren't expecting him to reach out after what you'd said, but was pleasantly surprised by the offer. Of course you would

Your first date was at this extra fancy place where you felt totally underdressed. Connor didn't notice at all, making jokes through the whole night. He listened intently and actively. At the end of the night, he was so nervous he could barely ask you if he could kiss you. You kissed him instead

Connor could be a bit oblivious to things, but he was kind, loving, he considered himself lucky you'd even looked in his direction. He was sweet and affectionate and always talked things through with you, as a couple, as one. He wanted to be sure you were on board with everything, even if it seemed a little out there or wild

Calling you honey, sweetie, sweetheart, babe, honey-bunny, etc.

You can't have Connor without his family. Being a big brother is a vital part of his life. He would be nothing without his little brothers and sister. They can be mean to him though, and that you will not stand for. You're quick to defend him and remind him that just because he loves them, it does not mean they can get away with it

"Cute date, what website did you buy them from?"

"Very funny, Rome."

You like Shiv the most. Kendall can come across as self-absorbed and Roman has a complete lack of filter, but Shiv has a good head on her shoulders. She, too, takes Connor for granted, but less so

It's not long after dating that he wants to introduce you to his father. You have a few choice words about him, but you keep them to yourself. Logan barely registers that his son is there, let alone you. After that brief introduction, you stick by Connors side desperately, wanting to get the hell out of Logan's company

When he talks about his childhood, he gets the same sad look in his eyes. You remind him that he's okay now, that you love him and you'll always be here for him. He always makes a point to take back the bad things he has to say about his father, not wanting to speak ill of a man he so admired, he so wanted to be loved by

"It wasn't all bad, I make it seem worse than it is."

"Con, I think it really was that bad. . . "

He's so affectionate. He has to be touching you always. His hand in yours, around your shoulder, waist, even just standing beside one another. He never wants to be apart from you. It's the same way when you sleep. You don't mind though, you know it helps him relax and it makes you feel wanted. Always

He tells you he loves you a thousand times a day, in a million different ways. Be safe. Call me when you get there. Wear a seat belt. Be careful. I'll miss you. Call me when you're free. I'm always a text away. He cannot stress how much you mean to him

Though he loves to show you off as fancy restaurants, Connor desperately wants to do normal things. Going to a fast food place and getting burgers and milkshakes. Going to the arcade or carnival and winning you the biggest stuffed animal there is. Going to the movies and sharing popcorn. And yes, singing karaoke. He enjoys it all so much more than any fancy place

Connor would much rather cuddle on the couch with a movie playing than take you to some club or bar his brothers would enjoy

You help him pick out his clothes for events. He's so nervous about making the right impression, so indecisive, it's hopeless without you. He even models a few options before packing it away

"This tie or the blue?"

"Blue, it brings out your eyes."

When his family comes over, you definitely have to calm him down. The house isn't clean enough or cool enough and everything is a disaster. You have to remind him that they love him, in their own special ways, and that everything will be fine. He will be fine. Most of the time it isn't, someone or something goes wrong, but you have to keep telling yourself that to keep going

A few times you've talked to his siblings about taking him for granted. They don't change their ways, but at least you're able to get it out in the open. You understand why he loves them so much. Without them, for a long time, it was just him and Logan. What a nightmare. But they could be a little nicer to him

"They're not like that."

"That doesn't matter, you do so much for them, Con."

He's a big fan of forehead kisses. He's quite tall so it just works out

Connor can be very spontaneous. You're constantly being surprised by him. Some ways good, like spur of the moment vacations, and in some ways not so good, like his idea of running for President. Regardless, you stick by his side

Everyone thinks you're with him for the money, but that couldn't be more untrue. Sure, there are perks that come with the money, but you'd be just as happy with him in a teeny tiny apartment trying to make ends meet. Even happier if that meant his father wasn't in the picture any longer

He's constantly singing those cheesy love songs to you, using a hairbrush or a fork, whatever he's got in hand at the moment, serenading you until you kiss him to stop

"L is for the way you look at me, O. . . "

Singing in the car together at the top of your lungs. You're both quite bad and off-key, but nothing makes you smile more than seeing him let himself be goofy and childish and silly

You call Kendall, Rome, and Shiv his "kids". You're always ready to jump into action if the kids need you, if there's something wrong with the kids, etc. You don't resent them for this, or him. It's just a part of the relationship you have to accept

"How are the kids today?"

"Good, good. You know them, always making jokes."

You get bits and pieces about his mother, mostly from the kids. The more you find out, the more horrified you become and the more angry you are on Connors behalf

Connor very excitedly proposes that you get a furry friend. Cat, dog, gerbil, bunny, doesn't matter. You pick something small and easy to train, knowing this is his first pet. They sleep in the bed with you. Connor Jr. you decide on, and that makes him beam

Like a proud dad, he has to show everyone every picture of them on his camera roll. It melts your heart every time he does it

He remembers the little stuff. How you take your coffee. What book you're reading and how it's going. Whose birthday it was and where you need to send flowers. How that meeting last Thursday went. He remembers everything because it's all important, it all means something

Your family, as complicated as they can be, are a lot warmer than the Roy's and welcome him with open arms. Your friends all adore him, too. What's not to love? He's a giant stuffed teddy bear

It's not always easy with Connor. He tries so hard to make his father see him, listen to him, recognize his existence, and each time, it kills him that he doesn't. You're there to soothe him to pick up the pieces. One day, you'll give Logan a piece of your mind, but you know the relationship, even one as frail as the one they have, means a lot to Connor. It means the world. You can't ruin that because your feelings are hurt for him

#requested #headcanon #connor roy #connor roy headcanon #connor roy imagine #connor roy x reader #kendall roy #shiv roy #roman roy #logan roy #succession #succession headcanon #succession imagine #succession x reader

137 notes · View notes

hereforthefunnyguys · 3 months

Text

okay okay marik ishtar getting psychosexual in the club brain time. (Sorry in advance for the bigass text block. also if you are an ace/aro marik truther then A) I can see it but also B) this is very much not that. be forewarned.) I know things along these lines have been said before, but I truly cannot picture him being some kind of crazily sexually/romantically liberated flirt like you see a lot in fanon. Feel free to argue with me if you want in the reblogs or comments or whatever I am not sure about what I'm saying here. (+1500 words of Help Me under the readmore!)

He grew up underground, with no one else around but his abusive highly religious dad, personal manservant/extremely protective brother figure, and what seems to be the only even somewhat normal family relationship he has with his sister that's almost as isolated and frankly seems moderately socially awkward outside of telling mysterious prophecies. I do not think he was not getting Helpful and Informative Sex Ed, to say the least, and also if/when he started going through puberty he would have functionally nowhere to project those urges. Maybe he can get a crush on a particularly well-drawn wall carving or statue idk but the point is that he doesn't have any actual human reference for what the feelings mean other than his immediate family which is a uhhhhhh different and much more uncomfortable conversation!

Also, even when he and Rishid finally get out of there and start up the Ghouls, I don't think Rishid would bother with telling him about sex and romance as he gets older - if anything, he would be less likely to tell him, because if there's one thing Rishid would want to do as little as possible, it would be to allow more opportunities for Marik to act out in more "depraved" ways - I mean, come on, the guy already forces people to commit suicide, brainwashes them to fight in death matches, and do weird little dances in public for his entertainment (I know that one isn't as intimidating as the other ones, but I do think it's important to establish the sheer level of pettiness and self-indulgence he's at by this point.)

We've already established by this point that his ability to empathize and sympathize with other people is currently somewhere at the bottom of the Marianas trench, assuming he may not have had low empathy before then, which he might've judging by how he treats his siblings (diversity win! the arc villain has low-functioning empathy!), though that may also be due to being the "favorite" and getting what he wants all the time and not being raised to consider them real people on par with him and his father. But I digress. I do think Rishid would be at least considering the ways that those behaviors would intersect with teenage hormones, to say the least (plus the whole Yami Marik thing, which I'll discuss. Later.)

But by contrast, I don't think it makes sense to say Marik's completely innocent to the concept - he may be a very socially isolated 16 year old, but he's still like. a 16 year old. He regularly pries inside of peoples heads to manipulate them, and if you go by anime canon, he is definitely aware of very strong romantic feelings (and therefore possibly sexual ones, though maybe not? arkana ace king ig) in the form of arkana/pandora's little anime lost love scenario. Also, I think its fair to assume a Good Number of the Ghouls would possess sexual or romantic feelings as well. However. However. I am going to go out on a limb and say that learning about sex from people's personal fantasies is to sex ed what learning about how to cook from Hell's Kitchen is to chef college; everything you absorb is overdramatic, unrealistic, extremely emotionally charged, and often involves a surprising amount of violence and degradation for a day-to-day activity.

I'm going to say Marik then is Aware of sex, but doesn't fully "get" it. Like. It makes him uncomfortable to think about it for too long, and in general, it's just something Other People do. It's something he can use to get close to people (sign that says ASK ME ABOUT FEMME FATALE MARIK ISHTAR PROPAGANDA), but its not really something he fully accepts as something he would do just for the sake of it. He's aware of it, but it's still a moderately alien concept to him, at least that's how he would think about it.

Additionally, I don't think his vision of romantic love is going to be any better. In between societies massive effort to romanticize (ehehe) those specific feelings as the end-all-be-all of affection and the fact that, again, he didn't really grow up with anyone (and still really doesn't have another outlet) other than his dad and siblings as who he "loves" - I do think he loves his siblings, and, tragically enough, probably his father as well. (Thats something else people ignore a ton. We as The Audience do not like Peepaw Ishtar but Marik himself has NO clue what he did was wrong or bad or unforgivable. If anything Marik considers himself the problem for not being able to take it. But that's another convo. God I'm going all over the place today.) Anyways what I'm trying to say here is that Marik probably sees romantic love as something that's present and he should Want but doesn't quite fully understand the emotional implications of it or investment necessary to make it work. If anything he would know less about romance since while old Egyptian myths do mention sex and sexuality with fair regularity - albeit not with much that would help a clueless 12 year old that associates said myths with his imprisonment and doom - there is very little talk of True Love in there. The fact that his knowledge of marriage extends to "my mother died a horrible painful death in childbirth having me and my dad didn't really care" probably is not helping matters!

Also tying this all together is the fact that Marik seems to have a Fraught and Uneasy relationship with his own body, to say the least. Like. I'm just going to go out on a limb and say he seems to consider it just another damp, dark prison he's stuck in, one that has done nothing other than provide an easy way to hurt him and keeps him tied to the Tombkeeper legacy. And who wouldn't? The guy has a massive scar carved into his back permanently reminding him of how trapped he really. Additionally, that's another barrier to intimacy, since there's no way on Earth he's letting anyone touch his back without an INSANE amount of trust - I imagine even Rishid is somewhat suspect in allowing him to touch his back.

The only time he seems really happy is when he gets to extend his mind outside of himself, into other people's brains and giving him a sense of power in an otherwise very controlled life. So that's definitely one barrier there! How do you even begin trying to make your body feel good when all your body has felt like all your life is completely awful? Especially when it would involve letting another person have access to it in a very vulnerable state??? Nuh uh no way thank you sir but we're staying repressed forever and shoving any and all Perverse Urges into a box deep deep in our Mind Room and ignoring them until we die, which we never will because we're Special. This is to say nothing of the fact that one of his tombkeepers duties is theoretically to procreate and create a new generation of keepers which is. Wow. Another conversation entirely but for our purposes means that he already is not going to have a good relationship to that! (Bonus points if it turns out he's homosexual. I'm not saying he is gay, but layering the Problems with "not attracted to women" would be an interesting intersection.)

Anyways the cherry on top of this miserable sundae is the Existence of Yami Marik, the Good-Times Ruiner. Point number one: in between the weird sadomasochism thing he has going on and the fact that he seems significantly more physically and emotionally liberated than Marik, I think it would be fair to call him a moderately sexualized character, though not a straight-up succubus (yes I am aware the term for men is Incubus. quiet).

Point number two: Yami Marik is generally seen to represent Marik's repressed urges and grudges, so we can pretty easily make the assumption that Yami Marik being sexualized comes from an attempt to absolve Marik of such uncomfortable distractions. So there is the thought there that he considers his sexual urges on par with or at least related to his violent and vengeful ones.

Point number three: You would have thought that at least partially realizing this by the end of Battle City would result in Marik realizing he should stop repressing his emotions. But it won't! Because that's not how that Highly Functional Ishtar Brain works! It goes "I now associate sexuality with one of the worst and most publicly humiliating and traumatic times of my life, so I now consider it an Active Problem to get rid of instead of just a uncomfortable quirk of mine." So no actually I think he would be getting worse! Someone send him to a therapist please or at least figure out a way for him not to simultaneously hate himself while still hating everyone else More.

anyways tl;dr: Marik ishtar knows about an extremely warped version of sex but good lord he is repressing it fifteen feet underground. Again feel free to argue with me if you want I'd like to hear other opinions. Anyways hope yall have a nice day and thanks for reading thru all of that!

#In summation: kazoo cover of paradise by the dashboard light plays while Marik miserably stares into a mirror with smudged eyeliner.#Marik ishtar #malik ishtar #yami marik #yami malik #ygo #yugioh #yu gi oh #if nobody likes this I will be Very Sad jk it just means ill post more about it. Well I will be sad but also Filled With Determination.#my stuff

15 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 2 years

Note

WRH was a nice person and the cultivation world's wine aunt before going insane

The really tragic thing was, they could never tell anyone the story of how they’d gotten together.

Oh, Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen could tell the story of how they’d met as children, the way they had hit it off immediately, instant best friends – that one was easy, and they did tell it, often. But the fact that they’d later fallen in love with each other didn’t make that initial meeting, and the platonic friendship that they had formed, any less important in its own right; it just made it different. They’d been friends first, lovers later, and in between there was the story of how they got together.

“It can’t be that bad, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said when he first noticed the omission. “I mean, you two are ridiculous about each other – how embarrassing could the story be?”

Nie Mingjue just smiled grimly and avoided the subject, no matter what Nie Huaisang tried.

Lan Xichen, unfortunately, was a bit of a softer touch.

“Oh, it’s not embarrassing,” he said when Nie Huaisang first asked him about it obliquely, sounding puzzled. “It was rather sweet, really. Mingjue-xiong was so red, and – ah, never mind.”

Nie Huaisang pounced: “Never mind? Er-ge, you can’t leave it like that!” he whined. “Besides, it’s just me. Though maybe that’s the problem, is that what it is? I know I’m a gossip and a good-for-nothing, that’s why you feel you can’t trust me…”

“No, no,” Lan Xichen rushed to assure him. “It’s not that at all! It’s just that it hurts Mingjue-xiong to think about it, so we don’t like to talk about it.”

Nie Huaisang frowned. That sounded more serious than what he’d originally thought. “Hurt? Why?”

“You’re too young to remember,” Lan Xichen said. “You’ve only ever known Wen Ruohan as a tyrant and a madman.”

“…that’s what he was.”

“He was, later,” Lan Xichen agreed. “But when we were younger, he was – rather charming, actually. He was one of the most personable of the sect leaders; he liked people, he liked young people…he liked to drink, and he was one of those people that got more light-hearted the more he drank. He was vain and arrogant, self-absorbed to the extreme, but you could always count on him for a laugh.”

Nie Huaisang stared.

“Really! That’s why it was so terrible, when later on he stopped drinking and stopped caring about anyone else and started only caring about his cultivation…though I suppose he must always have cared more about that than anything else. He wouldn’t have murdered Mingjue-xiong’s father if he hadn’t.”

“My father, too,” Nie Huaisang reminded Lan Xichen, who winced. “What does this have to do with you two getting together?”

“Well, he was the one who got us together. He convinced Mingjue-xiong to confess and supervised the entire thing to make sure he didn’t screw it up or that I didn’t misinterpret – we were about to do just that, actually, when he got tired of us dancing around the subject and just said it. It was all very cute. It’s just, you know…”

Less cute when the same man later murdered your father, launched a war of oppression, and personally captured and tortured you before being justly killed, yeah.

Nie Huaisang could see how that would make it less cute.

#mdzs #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #lan xichen #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #alt headcanons #like I said #just a whole lot of WRH today

210 notes · View notes

octo-hyacinth · 2 years

Text

Sweater Weather

Characters: Jade Leech

Content Warnings: Fluff, Jade being a tiny bit of a little shit but it’s out of love, VERY self-indulgent

A/N: Using the prompts “Sweater Weather” and maybe a few others from the October Prompt post i reblogged a while back, I’m in a Jade mood ok. Like i said this was self-indulgent so if you dont like it, cope

The wind brought a biting chill across the campus, making students raise their scarves and wrap their jackets around themselves a little tighter. The trees rustled lightly, but leaves were already drifting to the ground, having turned the green grass a multicolored canvas of reds and oranges. It was October, and though talk and preparations for Halloween were already happening, today Jade decided to take a day off with his favorite Prefect.

He pulled the sleeves down on his cream-colored sweater, and smoothed his hair down in the living room of Ramshackle as he waited for you to finish finding a suitable outfit to combat the chill. Perhaps this sweater shrunk a bit too much in the wash, as he found the cuffs frequently liked to slide back enough to expose his wrists. Oh well, it’d have to do for today. His white gloves would do well to shelter his hands from the wind, but he would gladly let you borrow them if need be.

After a few minutes, you strode down the steps from your room down to the lobby, showing off a soft-looking jacket of your favorite color over an elegant gray turtleneck. You’d also gotten a nice beanie to shield your ears from the wind, as well.

Jade was not one to show his emotions frequently, but you always seemed to make him more emotional than he could ever expect. His eyes widened just a fraction as he took in your lovely outfit.

“My, you look quite ready for an adventure in the woods.” He politely smiled, and reached out his hand for you to take. “I’d almost feel underdressed, had I not been accustomed to the cold already.”

“Oh, whatever. You don’t look too bad yourself, Jade.” You grinned.

“You flatter me, dearest.” He raised your hand to his lips to press a soft kiss to your knuckles, then stroked his thumb over them almost absentmindedly. “If you wish to borrow my gloves, you need only say the word. Your skin feels rather chilly.”

You smiled fondly at how gentle and considerate he was being. “No, it’s fine. Besides, your gloves are like, one of your most defining features, I don’t wanna take ‘em away, even if we’re just going for a short walk.”

“As you wish.” With that, he let you lead the way to Ramshackle’s front door. When you opened it, the wind blasted back both you and Jade’s hair immediately, causing him to laugh a little at how your hair was getting whipped to and fro.

“Don’t you laugh at me,” you huffed. “Your hair looks just as bad. At least I have a beanie.”

“Does it now?” Jade gave a small indulgent smirk. “Then why don’t you fix it?”

“Maybe I will. Lean down a bit for me.”

He obliged, and you smoothed down the top of his head until it less resembled Floyd’s messy hair, but you let your hand slip down to caress Jade’s cheek, and you caught him leaning into your hand almost imperceptibly, humming in contentment with his eyes sliding shut.

“Your hand is quite warm, you know.” He lifted his own significantly larger hand to cover yours, as if he wanted to absorb all the heat from your skin that he could.

“Is it? Probably won’t be once we’ve been out in the cold a few minutes.” You tried gently prying your hand away from his cold skin, but he held you in place, and stared at you with sharp, bright eyes once you kept resisting.

“And where do you think you’re going? I’m so cold, would you really deprive me of a heat source in this horrendously chilly weather?” He put on a clearly fake pout, like he was trying to guilt you into staying right here until he sucked all the warmth out of your skin.

“Your acting’s getting worse. I don’t buy that for a second, you’re perfectly fine.” You yanked your hand away before he could grip it any tighter, and sighed, but you were smiling still. Such a clingy eel when he wanted to be. “Now did you want to explore the forest or not?”

“Of course, my love.” He stood up straight, and held out his arm for you to hold, like the gentleman he always seemed to be. A warm, genuine smile graced his features that you swore could fend off the cold any day. “As always, you see right through me. I’m almost scared at how well you know me sometimes.” He didn’t look very scared at all.

He truly did love the way you could keep up with him, the way you were never intimidated by him, by how you could banter with him and expose him when he was hiding his true intentions.

“Then let’s go already.” You jabbed him in the side, and started dragging him by the arm to the outskirts of Night Raven.

The only true purpose of this walk was to spend some time with Jade, however that walk may turn out, since he so rarely got days off to spend with you. So now you and him were meandering through the forest around Night Raven, enjoying nature and basking in the change of scenery and pace it brought.

Because of the wind, you saw bunches of leaves fall to the ground here and there, and there were quite a few large piles of them already on the ground. You couldn’t help but jump in them, and enjoy the crunchy sound they made with every step. You giggled with every step in the leaves that made that satisfying crunch, and almost pouted when one of the steps wasn’t satisfactory enough.

“I hate to interrupt the fun you seem to be having, but what are you doing?” Jade gently asked.

You froze, and slowly turned your head to look at him, realizing how embarrassing and childish jumping in leaves might have looked to him. You had an expression resembling a deer caught in headlights.

“Umm… they’re crunchy?”

Jade took a second to process your answer, clearly trying to come up with a logical explanation for it, but simply settled on a small smile.

“I see. And what makes the crunch so satisfying, I wonder?” He stepped closer, and bent over just a few inches to inspect the leaves, curiously holding his chin. “You must understand, we didn’t have these in the Coral Sea, so I must say I’m not quite accustomed to the appeal of autumn leaves.”

You simply shrugged, a childish smile resuming on your face once you realized he was just curious. “I dunno what makes them so nice, I just like the sound it makes and how it feels.” You jumped on another hefty pile of dry leaves to accentuate your point.

“Fascinating.” Jade stood up straight again, and it was only then you noticed a leaf had drifted right onto his head, and he must not have noticed.

You couldn’t hold back a small snort, which made Jade’s attention snap straight to your face. He had quite the bewildered expression actually, eyes slightly widened. Why could you possibly be laughing at him?

“Is something the matter, my love?” He asked evenly, but his surprise was still evident.

It was impossible to hold back a smile. It was just unexpected to ever see Jade, someone who always was so clean and put together, with not a crease on his suit or a hair out of place, suddenly be seen with a whole leaf resting on his hair.

“It’s just— Okay, stay still. Maybe bend down a bit, you got something in your hair.” The grin was very evident in your voice, but despite his curiosity, he complied without questions. Once you snatched the leaf off, you waved it in front of his face. “Guess what I found.”

He stared at the leaf, seemingly at a loss for only a split second before he gave an amused chuckle. “How interesting. You have my thanks for removing it.”

“Yeah, of course. Though you looked pretty cute with it stuck in your hair.” You grinned cheekily.

He smiled in return, flashing a bit of his teeth. “Oh? Is that so? Maybe I should walk under trees more often.”

You merely laughed, and nudged his hand with your own to interlock your fingers. “Then come on, we’ve still got plenty of forest to walk through. Maybe we’ll both get a shot at it.” You tugged at his arm, leading him down the winding path of treaded dirt and colorful leaves.

Even though it was cold outside, it seemed like the whole world felt warmer with Jade by your side.

#twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #jade leech x reader #twst x reader #twst jade #hyacinth writes

164 notes · View notes

mister-supernova · 2 years

Text

A Very Good Bad Night

Pairing: Gerri Fields x Reader

Word Count: 8.1k

Summary: It’s Valentine's Day and you’re in need of a date who can get you through the night for your parent’s wedding anniversary dinner. Who better than your best friend?

Warnings/Genre: Explicit language, minor injuries, shitty family dynamics, FLUFF, light angst, friends-to-lovers

a/n: the way I wrote this with the intention of posting it on Valentine’s Day lmaoo better late than never plus I love me some fluffy Gerri shit

There was no sugarcoating the fact that Valentine’s Day was your least favorite day out of the year, but it wasn’t for the same reason that most single people hate the holiday. Ever since you were a kid, your parents made it a tradition to spend their anniversary bringing your family together for a formal dinner.

In theory, this sounds like it should be a nice night out with the people who brought you into this world and it probably would be if your parents weren’t such self-absorbed assholes who treat you like the black sheep of the family.

The obvious way out of this situation would be to avoid the dinner altogether, but being that they’re the reason you’re not homeless living in the heart of New York, you have no choice but to show up or fall into crippling debt.

Instead of spending Valentine’s Day whining about not having a significant other while eating your weight in chocolate covered strawberries, you get a night where your egotistical parents and headass of an older brother hound you about your life while bragging about how perfect theirs are, making you want to gauge your eyes out with a butter knife.

You’re highly aware that tonight will be no different in comparison to the previous years, but you’ll be damned if you have to go through it alone this time.

This brought you to the person you know you can count on for absolutely anything.

Carefully digging through a potted plant that’s littered with thorns no matter how hard you try to avoid them, you only prick the back of your hand three times before finding the spare key that unlocks the front door to the Fields Residence.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite intruder!” Mr. Fields greets you warmly from the kitchen, already making your day better. After tossing the key back in its place, you walk inside, removing your snow-covered boots and winter coat.

“Still haven’t thought of a less harmful place to store your spare, Danny?”

Formalities with Gerri’s parents were aggressively thrown out the window the very first night you met them. After meeting her over a year ago in your college’s music theory class, the two of you became close friends and the first thing you did during Thanksgiving break was meet her family.

Immediately, you loved their warm and welcoming energy seeing as it was something you weren’t used to with your own parents. The Fields family made it clear from the beginning of your friendship with their daughter that you were always welcome in their home.

This in turn made you feel more homesick for her home rather than yours whenever you were back at school.

“You never know with all the crazies out there, Y/n. I’m just surprised Gerri hasn’t given you your own key at this point.” The man teases, half-joking since you show up here so often, sometimes when Gerri isn’t even home.

“It would definitely help with the pain, no offense to Barry,” that’s what the cactus is named, “Though, the scars do make me look kinda badass, especially when I nick my knuckles.” You ponder, flexing your hand outwards to show Danny the healed up cuts and he puffs out his lip, nodding his head in agreement.

“Very badass.” The two of you laugh as he gives you a brief but tight side hug, “Gerri’s up in her room, by the way, kiddo.”

You thank him, casually thieving a chocolate covered strawberry on the counter and nearly inhaling it before also wishing him a quick Happy Valentine’s Day.

Trotting upstairs, you follow the sound of Gerri’s speakers loudly playing Love Story by Taylor Swift. Her door is already halfway open, but you slow to a stop before taking a peek around the corner.

With the music blasting at max volume, Gerri is unable to hear your footsteps creaking down the hallway, lost in her own world as she dances around her room and sings the lyrics at the top of her lungs.

You watch Gerri jump around, her wavy brown hair slowly falling out of her already loose lazy bun, dancing with such fluidity while holding a stuffed bear you won at Coney Island yet she insisted on keeping.

A smile can’t help but form on your face at the adorable sight and you’re too entertained by the show to announce your presence. Even when looking like a total doofus, you still thought of Gerri as the most beautiful being you’d ever set your eyes on.

That’s not something you could bring yourself to tell her out loud, though.

Before the bridge of the song, the brunette twirls and finally sets her eyes on you, but she doesn’t shy away from the fact that you caught her in a private moment.

That’s not your Gerri.

“I got tired of waiting,” she smiles mischievously, tosses the bear back on the bed, and beckons you over with her index finger, “wondering if you were ever coming around, my faith in you was fading, when I met you on the outskirts of town,” she continues to sing and move her shoulders to the beat of the song.

You shake your head amused, remaining in your spot against her door frame.

“I said, Romeo save me, I’ve been feeling so alone, I keep waiting for you but you never come.” Not taking no for an answer, Gerri skips forward until she’s pulling you into the room by your shoulders.

Now she’s singing in your face with enormous passion, shaking your body back and forth as she grows impatient with your silence, but it’s very difficult for you to sing through your smile.

“Is this in my head? I don’t know what to think,” As Gerri slides her hands up to the sides of your face to shake your brain around instead, you hold onto her wrists to keep her from giving you whiplash or accidentally bonking your heads together. “He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring and said…”

Unable to deny her any longer, you finally give in, belting out the words while bobbing your head up and down. Gerri’s smile widens and she intertwines your fingers together as she pulls you closer to the middle of her room.

“I love you and that’s all I really know!”

Next thing you know, you’re getting yourself lost in Gerri’s world, too, shuffling your feet and spinning around like you’re the only two people to exist. The comfort of her carefree energy never fails to envelop you into a safe place that makes you feel more at home.

When the music ends, the two of you gracefully fall side-by-side into Gerri’s bed, both out of exhaustion from jumping so much and to slow the intense dizziness. One of her hands has yet to let go of yours, making your head spin even more.

“That was fun.” The brunette pants, letting out a breathless laugh as she looks over at your smiling face.

“Yeah, it was.”

When you return her gaze, you notice that her hair had fallen completely out of its bun, the brown strands beautifully lying around her head upon the mattress.

Every word known to man could never accurately describe her beauty and what it does to your heartstrings.

With her fingers still laced with yours, Gerri lifts it up to observe the damage you’ve taken today, “You prick yourself again?” She asks, softly grazing her thumb over the new marks on your skin.

You hum a yes, incapable of tearing your eyes away from the concern that shows on her face. The way she worries for you over some harmless scratches that were no bigger than the size of a tic-tac made the butterflies in your chest flutter.

“Sorry, we really need to get you your own key.”

Huffing out a laugh, you softly pull your hand away so you can sit up, “Your dad was telling me the same thing.”

Routinely, Gerri stands from her bed to grab the mini first aid kit from her dresser. When she returns, she sits in a criss-cross position, pulling out some mini alcohol wipes and band-aids from the plastic box. “I feel bad having to patch you up every time you come over.”

You turn your body so that you’re facing each other, “Well, first off you don’t have to patch me up. It’s a tiny scratch from a thorn, not a bite from a rabid subway rat,” you inform the girl, making her eyes roll slightly as you instinctively place your injured hand on her lap, patiently waiting for her to clean the fresh cuts, “Second, it isn’t that big a deal. I mean, if you guys placed your spare right next to a wasp nest instead, then we’d have some bigger problems.”

Gerri giggles softly, rubbing the alcohol pad on the open wounds and stinging them for just a moment before little band-aids are placed. When she finishes, Gerri carefully lifts your hand to her lips, placing three gentle kisses on the patched up skin.

Closing both of her hands around yours, she keeps it in her lap, leaning forward slightly as she smiles cheekily at you.

“There. All better?”

The playful yet gentle stare in those gorgeous green eyes makes your stomach turn in the most exciting way possible, but you push the feeling down as you always do. You chuckle, squeezing her hand as you look at her adoringly, “All better. Thank you, Dr. Fields.”

The softness in your voice makes Gerri’s eyes light up, making her subconsciously bite her lower lip. You watch the action with a racing heart, looking back up to find her pupils had dilated as her gaze flickers between your mouth and eyes.

Surely this is part of your imagination, right?

Before either of you could pluck up the nerve to lean in first, you’re both startled when a hamper full of clean clothes is thrown into the room. Breaking eye contact, you and Gerri see her little brother standing in the doorway.

“Were you two about to kiss right now? Because you jumped away from each other like you were about to kiss.” He wonders with an amused smile, narrowing his eyes between the two of you and making you both blush madly.

“Karl, get out! Now!” The brunette exclaims, dropping your hand to shove the boy out. He laughs loudly as Gerri shuts the door, leaning her back against it to ensure he doesn’t come in again.

She covers her face in embarrassment, unable to look you directly in the eye for the moment.

Quietly laughing to yourself, you let Gerri regain her composure and stand from the bed to empty out the hamper, helping sort out her clothes.

“Damn, Gerr. I didn’t think the idea of kissing me was that repulsive.”

“That’s not– I wasn’t–”

“Just jokes.” You look at her over your shoulder with an assuring smile.

Gerri lets her shoulders fall after exhaling out a relieved sigh.

Slowly, she makes her way back over to her phone, playing another song for the two of you to listen to before she begins picking at the clothes you had already folded and starts putting them away.

This routine became a regular thing after your first couple of visits to Gerri’s house. Once she was comfortable having you in her room so often, she started getting too lazy to put her laundry away and you did not want to be lying on a mountain of clothes that were scattered across her bed.

When this habit of you cleaning her own messes began, Gerri felt bad watching you do it alone, so she decided to lend a hand. To her pleasant surprise, it was actually really relaxing having you around to help. Plus, the chore would be done in half the amount of time compared to if she were to do it by herself.

“So, what are the rest of your Valentine’s Day plans?” You casually question, silently praying that her schedule is open.

“Probably just going to throw on some shitty romcoms and get sick from eating too many chocolate covered strawberries. Why?”

You swallow your nerves, reminding yourself that this is just you, a friend, asking for a favor from Gerri, another friend.

It doesn’t have to be a nerve-racking conversation, but you wonder why your palms are getting so sweaty and what it was that was making you hear the sound of your own heart pounding in through your ears.

“Don’t you have that family dinner for your parent’s anniversary tonight?” She asks, taking the handful of bundled socks you give her.

Oh good, she remembered. “I do. I’m not exactly looking forward to it though, because it’s the worst night of my year, surrounded by literally the worst people on this planet.”

Gerri is aware that you’re not very close with your family and that you don’t like to talk about them much, but you’ve never gone into detail as to why that was.

She noticed the way your entire mood deflated whenever she asked about them in the beginning of your friendship, how the mere thought of them brought up some uncomfortable feelings in you, so she quickly stopped asking.

“Why don’t you just tell them you can’t go?” If this night was so dreadful for you to go through, Gerri wondered what was stopping you from ditching the event completely.

You chirp up, playfully pretending to be shocked, “Oh, wow! You know, I’ve never thought to do that. That’s actually a really good idea, Gerr. Why hadn’t I-”

Gerri lightly smacks your bottom with a shirt she’s putting away, making you both laugh, “Okay! You don’t gotta be a smartass about it. Geez.”

“Trust me, if I could avoid tonight, I would. To my terrible misfortune, I can’t afford to pay my college and housing bills on my own yet, so my parents financially keep my head above water. Not without a price of their own, though. They’re not that generous.”

Gerri watches you carefully from the foot of her bed as you start getting lost in your own rambling, but you continue folding her clothes to distract yourself.

“The deal is that they keep me stable so long as I attend their stupid yearly dinner at their stupid favorite restaurant where I have to sit and listen to their stupid lecture about how unsuccessful I’m destined to be in life. Meanwhile, my dickhead of an older brother gets all the loving praise for being the most mediocre man in the world.”

You stop folding the clothes, pausing your ramble to take a deep breath in an attempt to relieve the stress that’s already brewing in your chest.

“You know, I can’t even remember one time in my life they were happy for me about anything. My valedictorian speech at my high school graduation? With such a small school it shouldn’t have been that hard to get in the first place. We also have a conference that weekend. My NYU acceptance letter? Well that’s useless since you’re wasting college on a silly music degree, Y/n. Why can’t you study business like your brother?”

It was unfair how poorly your own family thought of you, like you weren’t even a part of them, especially when you did nothing in the past to make them treat you this way.

“Literally everything I do is wrong in their eyes. It’s the fucking worst, but then again they’re the fucking worst so what else should I expect?”

You slump back down on the bed and massage your temples, attempting to erase the stress that’s already festering in your brain just thinking about going through tonight.

“I know I didn’t exactly paint the prettiest picture of them to you just now, but I really don’t want to sit through this hellish night alone again and I’d hate it a lot less if I had you there with me,” you tell Gerri, nervously fidgeting with your new band-aids, “It’s a lot to ask and I’m not expecting you to say yes, but I just… I need you there, Gerr.”

With your shaking leg, hand fidgets, and cheek biting, all of your anxious tics were on full display for Gerri to see and the dinner hadn’t even started yet. This night weighs you down so heavily that your friend would be a fool to let you carry it on your own.

Pulling you away from your fixed stare at the floor, Gerri places her soft hands upon your face and tilts your head until you look up at her calming gaze. You immediately loosen your jaw, fluttering your eyes shut when she runs her fingers through your hair, letting the rest of your muscles relax beneath her touch.

“Hey,” she calls to you gently and you open your eyes, leaning into her hands as she links them behind your neck, “I’ll be there.”

You smile up at her softly, pushing your body forward until you bury your head into Gerri’s stomach. She laughs, lightly scratching your scalp and tracing her fingers along the nape of your neck.

Everything is so easy with Gerri, you sometimes find it hard to believe that she’s real.

“Thank you.” You mumble into her shirt before looking back up to meet her eyes. “I can’t promise that it’s going to be the most fun time of your life, but-” The brunette squishes your face together to shut you up.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?”

You nod your head, slurring out an “okay” with your smushed face, making you and Gerri chuckle before she drops her arms back to her sides. You miss her touch instantly.

Standing up, you feel a lot lighter than you did before coming over. Gerri just knows how to make everything better and you’re already more at ease thinking about tonight knowing she’ll be by your side.

“I’m gonna go get ready right now and I’ll come pick you up at seven,” you say, opening her bedroom door and taking a backwards step across the threshold, “Just dress like you’re going to any regular formal event.”

“Well, now I’ve got a lot of clean options to choose from,” she gestures to her rack of clean clothes, “so I’ll see you at seven!”

“Cool,” you nod, feeling a small box of candy in your jacket pocket, “Oh! Almost forgot,” you toss her the heart-shaped candy that she happily catches, “I got those at the gas station for you.”

“How romantic,” Gerri smiles as she pulls one out, reading the little printed words aloud and she shows it to you, “Be Mine?”

Before you can wonder whether her tone in that question was serious or playful, she tosses the light pink sugar heart into the air and you easily catch it in your mouth. “Seven o’clock!” You remind her while making your way down the hall.

“Seven o’clock!” Gerri repeats back to you, now having the feeling that out of all the clothes hanging in her closet, she has absolutely nothing to wear.

- Seven O’Clock -

The clock barely changed and you’ve already checked your watch five times as you anxiously waited for Gerri to walk downstairs.

You couldn’t tell if the nerves were from the possibility of being late to the restaurant or the fact that you were taking Gerri out for dinner on Valentine’s Day—not that it was going to be a great one that you’d much rather take her on.

When it comes to the person you are or the people you surround yourself with, you don’t give a shit about what your parents think, but the last thing you want is for Gerri to see you differently and believe your future is becoming carbon copies of them.

“Sorry, sweetie,” Mrs. Fields—or Kate as she prefers—gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze as she notices how tense you are, “Gerri ran a quick errand after you left, so it took her a little while to start getting ready.”

“It’s no problem. The reservation isn’t for another hour anyways.” You say, nervously messing with a rose petal from the bouquet you brought. You didn’t really consider buying Gerri flowers until your drive back over here, thinking it’s the least you could do for her agreeing to endure this torturous night.

Gerri’s mom sits across from you at the dining room table, smirking as she observes the color of the flowers you choose to bring tonight, “Are these for Gerri?” Looking up from your fiddling, you nod your head, “You do know what yellow roses with red tips mean, right?”

No, you do not. You swallow dryly at this new information, “They have different meanings? I just thought they looked the coolest.”

The older woman laughs, only inflaming the intensity of your nerves, “I’m sure you’re fine, Y/n.”

“C’mon Kate, what do yellow roses with red tips mean?” You plead for an answer before panic begins to set in.

“Just friendship…” she shrugs, leaning back to take a sip of her wine, “amongst other things.”

Your eyes widen, making her laugh even more as you smile nervously, “What other things?”

“Honey, stop torturing the poor kid,” Mr. Fields gives you a supportive pat on the back, amused at your cluelessness and for a moment you’re content, “But seriously, you don’t know what the meaning behind these roses are?”

Burying your face deep into your hands, you groan helplessly at their teasing.

You’ve grown a little used to having Gerri’s parents mess with you about possibly crushing on their daughter, but you’d be lying if you said it doesn’t fluster you. Just when you think one of them is on your side, they team up against you in the end.

“What’s so funny down here?” Gerri’s voice fills the room, silencing her mom and dad’s laughter and drawing your attention to the kitchen’s entryway.

If your heart wasn’t racing already, now it’s only a couple of beats away from pounding out of your chest.

Dressed in a red quarter-sleeve dress with floral lace designs that leave just enough room for imagination, Gerri Fields made you forget how to breathe. The girl was already naturally beautiful, so it only made sense that she could transform herself into an even more attractive goddess.

You might just run late from staring at her in complete awe.

“Y/n/n, you okay?” She nervously grins, taking note of your flustered state.

“Uhh…” Clumsily standing from the chair that skids across the floor, you can’t bring yourself to take your eyes off her, “Yeah, I’m uh…” Danny picks up your bouquet of roses and pushes them into your chest. Without looking away, you hold onto them a little too tightly, “I’m good.”

Gerri giggles softly, walking forward until she’s standing in front of you, “Are these for me?”

With a small grin, you nod, now too mentally incapacitated to move your mouth to speak, especially when she bites her lip while smiling at you like that.

“They’re beautiful.” She says, purposely letting her touch linger on you as she takes the flowers from your hands.

“You’re beautiful.” Even you’re shocked by how naturally the words fell out of your mouth, possibly flustering you more than the blushing brunette in front of you.

She briefly hides her smile behind the bouquet before lowering them down so that she can lean forward to kiss you softly on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You quietly say, nearly losing your voice towards the end of your sentence.

Caught in your own bubble that is Gerri, the two of you miss the knowing smiles her parents are sharing from behind you both.

Clearing your throat, you take a look at your watch and note that you still have plenty of time to make it to the restaurant. “Um, I have the car warming up in the driveway.”

Gerri’s eyes widened in realization, “Right! Sorry! Dad, could you…” she quickly hands him the roses and he moves to put them in a vase.

“Have fun, you two!” Kate yells from the kitchen as you and Gerri help put on each other’s coats by the front door.

You share a strained smile with the girl and snicker, both knowing tonight will most likely end in disaster. At least you’re not going through the fire alone this time and you wouldn’t want to have anyone else on your side.

During the 30 minute drive to the restaurant, you and Gerri sang along to every song that played on the Hits 1 radio, even the ones neither of you knew the lyrics to, and it set you at ease. Of course, Gerri’s presence alone brings you peace.

However, all of your anxiety came rushing back to the surface when you arrived at your destination.

You sat in front of the steering wheel silently for a solid five minutes, mentally preparing yourself for the amount of hell you’re going to be dragged through and how everything might go wrong. Before you can start biting at your fingernails, Gerri takes your hand and traps it between the both of hers.

“What’s going on in your head?” She asks, playing with the rings on your fingers.

“Just remembering that there’s a reason I don’t introduce anybody I care about to my family. They’re terrible people, Gerr,” leaning the side of your head against the seat, you look at the brunette, “I’ve learned how to put up with their bullshit, so I’m used to it by now, but if you’re having second thoughts about coming here with me then I—”

“Y/n.” Gerri halts your rambling, squeezing your hand between hers, “I’m here for you, okay? I don’t care how awful they are, I’m not going anywhere.”

You breathe out a large huff of air, leaning the back of your head into the headrest and closing your eyes, silently praying to any and every God that this won’t turn into the worst night of your life.

“Hey,” opening your eyes, you look back at Gerri, watching as she brings your hand to her lips and presses three soft kisses upon the skin, “All better?”

Three little big words nearly slip through your mouth, but you conceal them with a smile that nearly conveys the very message you’re keeping to yourself, “All better.”

With Gerri giving you the strength you need, you finally exit the car and her hand never leaves yours as you walk inside the restaurant.

When you give the hostess your last name, the two of you are immediately escorted to the same table your parents reserve every year. It’s a circular table that seats six in the back corner of the place, close enough to the restrooms and the A/C hits the area just right according to your mother.

God forbid anyone else takes this table and whoever does will have hell to pay. Five years ago, they made an unnecessary scene when another party was seated here and forced the manager to move them to another spot.

You still cringe at the memory to this day.

Arriving at the table, you see that your parents are already seated, but they're too distracted with their phones to realize that you’re there.

Realizing they’re not going to look up anytime soon no matter how close you get to them, you try to speak up, but your father beats you to the punch, “We’ll start with the bottle of white merlot.”

Goodness, at least this wasn’t the worst way the night could’ve started.

Gerri looks over at you and judging by the annoyance on your face, she comes to the conclusion that your dad doesn’t have a sense of humor and this isn’t him trying to be funny.

“Not the waiter, dad. It’s your child.”

His eyes never leave his phone, neither do your mothers. Instead, your dad sighs like he’d rather have the waiter here, “Hello, Y/n.”

It was pointless to go around to their seats and give them a hug like most loving children would. They weren’t exactly the physically affectionate type of parents—not with you anyways.

You shake your head before pulling out one of the empty chairs for Gerri, giving her a sorry smile as she sits down and you take the seat next to hers.

“You didn’t happen to catch your brother and his fiancee walking in, did you?” Your mother asks as you settle in.

“No, but there’s someone I want you guys to–”

“He said he’d be running late, dear.” Your father talks to your mom while scrolling through his phone.

“Guys, can you–” You try getting their attention, failing again.

“I told him traffic would be heavy right now. Hopefully they’re not too far out.” Your mom shakes her head, more concerned about your brother’s arrival rather than the stranger sitting at the table.

“Hello?” The music in this place isn’t blasting, so you know very well that they can hear you speaking.

“It looks like they’re fifteen minutes away on the tracking app.” Your dad shows her the map on his phone and she looks at it closely.

“Y/n talking here.”

“Oh yes, that’s not too far at all. They should get here right as the crabcakes are brought out. He likes them fresh.”

You clap your hands together loudly, finally capturing their attention, “Oh, good. Your ears are still working. Guys, this is my…” suddenly, you didn’t know how to introduce the girl next to you to them, your mind still calming down from them ignoring you seconds ago, “...Gerri. My-my friend Gerri.”

Blushing lightly at your first slip up, the brunette presses her lips together in a tight smile to the intimidating eyes that lock on her, “Happy anniversary, Mr. and Mrs. L/n. It’s really great to finally meet you both.”

They stare blankly at the girl in front of them without so much as a friendly smile back, then your mother looks at you, “You didn’t tell us you would be bringing a guest, Y/n.”

You clench your fist under the table, digging your fingernails into your palm to redirect the anger you’re beginning to feel, “I, uh I didn’t realize that I had to. No one usually sits in the extra chair and you guys always hound me about not bringing a friend, so…”

“I’m just saying it’s inconsiderate of you not to inform us beforehand that you were bringing someone with you. What if your brother also brought one of his friends with him?”

You shrug, “It’s almost like we’re in a restaurant that has extra chairs for that very unlikely instance.”

Your father points an accusatory finger at you and speaks in his authoritative voice, “Hey, don’t be rude to your mother, Y/n. She’s right, it was very thoughtless of you bringing this on us at the last minute.” He shakes his head at you in disappointment, returning to his cell phone.

You could go on about how rude they’re acting to Gerri after she kindly introduced herself to them, only to not even receive a simple ‘hello’ back. You would’ve taken a cold greeting in response rather than them ignoring her completely.

It was one thing for them to act like assholes to you, but when it came to the girl by your side, you were more than willing to call them out on their shit.

Before you can start a fight, Gerri keeps you from the screaming match by placing her hand over your tightened fist. Relaxing to her touch, she intertwines your fingers together and gently brushes her thumb across your skin.

“It’s okay.” She whispers with a soft smile, taking a deep breath that you instinctively mirror to relax. A small fragment of your stress fades for the moment and you give Gerri a grateful smile, reminding yourself that this dinner won’t last forever.

Your parents begin discussing work with each other, leaving you and Gerri completely out of the conversation, but you could care less.

You imagined the two of you sitting in the comfort of her bedroom, watching cheesy rom coms like Gerri had initially planned to do tonight.

Maybe you would find the moment to confess about the crush you’ve had on her since the day you met. You’d tell her how she’s the first person in your life who has ever felt like home.

You would say that you were in love, and in a perfect world, she would tell you that she feels the same.

You couldn’t say those three words out loud, not right now, so you secretly traced those letters on the palm of her hand instead.

Gerri’s lips twitch up into a faint grin when you initiate a few games of thumb war underneath the table, biting back laughter as you get a little more competitive each round. This is the first time you’re glad that your family is way too caught up in their own conversation to pay either of you any attention.

“The favorite has arrived!” Your older brother announces in a sing-song voice as he confidently saunters over to the table, his fiancée in tow a couple of feet behind him. Meanwhile, you and Gerri have broken out of your bubble.

The peace was nice while it lasted.

The bored expressions on your mom and dad’s faces change almost immediately, now beaming with happiness as their precious baby boy approaches. They stand up, engulfing their son with tight hugs and kisses on cheeks.

The stark difference as to how you were greeted shocks Gerri, but looking at your reaction or lack thereof, she can tell this was normal for you.

After your brother’s finished saying hello to your parents, he turns to you with a half-assed wave as he and his new wife take a seat, then his eyes land on Gerri.

“Who’s the new broad with you, Y/n? You had me convinced you didn’t have any friends.” He cackles idiotically.

How your brother has yet to get socked in the mouth for the things that come out of it is a mystery to you.

You wanted to confess your reasoning for never wanting to introduce your good hearted friends to your cold hearted family, but you save the argument.

“Yeah, good to see you too, Richard. This is Gerri.”

With a friendly smile, the brunette waves at him, “Hi, nice to meet you.”

He laughs like he’s just heard the funniest joke in the world, making Gerri shift in her seat uncomfortably, “Jerry? Like a guy? What, did your parents hope for a boy or were they on drugs?”

Oh. Fuck. No. You sit up a little straighter, slightly tightening your hold on Gerri’s hand, “It’s unisex, you ignorant piece of—”

“Y/n. Let’s not do this already.” Your mother quietly warns you from across the table, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Do what? He’s being disrespectful to my friend.”

“It was a joke. No need to be so sensitive about it.” Richard rolls his eyes with a scoff, snickering arrogantly with the most idiotic grin.

“Oh, I must be the one losing my hearing at this table now because not a single person here thought that was funny.”

“Christ, Y/n, will you relax? I’ve been here for two seconds and you already have a stick up your ass for no damn reason,” he looks at Gerri, “You’re being paid to be here, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You could tackle your brother where he sits. Your jaw clenches and you have to bite your tongue to keep you from flying out of your seat, “Talk to my friend like that again and I’ll put an actual stick up your ass, Dick.”

If there’s one thing that gets under your brother’s skin, it’s when you use his all-too-accurate nickname that he lives up to.

He scowls at you next, just as ready to jump you across this table.

“That is enough, Y/n!” Your dad silences you with his raised voice that means you’re already skating on paper thin ice, “We’re not putting up with this tonight, you hear me?”

Richard smirks in victory, knowing your parents will always take his side no matter how out of line he acts. With an annoyed huff, you lean back into your seat and refocus on Gerri’s hand that’s still holding yours.

You shouldn’t have brought her here and had you known your family would be this disgustingly rude to her, you wouldn’t have invited her in the first place. Gerri was too good of a person to have to sit through this.

“It’s Richard, right?” Gerri speaks up, earning your brother’s attention and he nods, “Well, Richard, the answer to your previous question is no, I’m not being paid to be here. Y/n talked about how important this night is to your family and because of how important they are to me, I came. I also don’t appreciate the inappropriate jokes you made to me like we’ve known each other for years even though we just met.”

“I assure you, he meant no ill intent with his comments towards you. That’s just how he is.” Your mother comes in for the rescue, making infinite excuses for the thirty year old man who has the brain of a psychotic, tantrum-throwing toddler.

“Seriously, mom? He’s a grown man. There’s no need to jump to his aid like he’s a kid who’s been pushed on the playground during recess.”

Richard rolls his eyes, “Jesus, why do you have to ruin the night for everyone? It’s mom and dad’s anniversary for Christ's sake.”

“You’re saying inappropriate things to my guest. If this were the other way around, all of you would be on my ass.”

“Yeah because every time you come out with us now, you act like a psychotic little brat. I honestly miss when you were quieter because your bullshit is fucking exhausting to put up with.”

You laugh heartily in disbelief, “Oh, you find me exhausting? Now that’s a great joke, Dick. Seriously.”

His face burns red and you can almost see smoke blowing out of his elephant ears, “Fucking Christ,” he groans, pausing for a beat as he debates on whether or not he should say more. With just enough wine in his system, he decides to say, “You know, this is exactly why I didn’t want you at our wedding.”

Your amused smile begins to fade and you give him an inquisitive look, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Richie.” Your mother sighs as she pinches the bridge of her nose, but she doesn’t look guilty.

“What, you thought your invite got lost in the mail or something?” He teases with a sickening grin when he sees that he’s properly shut you up, “Thought it was just a simple mistake?”

“Rich.” Your father warns and that’s when you see the golden wedding band on Richard’s ring finger.

“Newsflash, you weren’t sent one in the first place and the way you’re acting tonight is a spectacular example as to why that was. I didn’t need you fucking things up on the happiest day of my life, so mom, dad and I came to an agreement. The wedding would be a close friends and family only event. We all think you’ve proven yourself to be neither of those things.”

You look to your parents, the smallest part of you hoping they’d come to your aid just for once in their goddamn lives. Instead, they remain silent in their seats, awkwardly sipping on their wine and avoid eye contact with you completely.

Fucking typical.

You could break down right at this table because of how terrible this night is going. Not that you expected anything less, but it was embarrassing to have this happening in front of the only person you care about in the room, witnessing you get tormented by the people who were supposed to love you unconditionally.

The sound of Gerri’s laughter catches you off guard and your attention turns to her.

“I’m sorry, are you people out of your mind? Do you-do any of you know anything about this person right here? Like, have you actually tried getting to know them?”

Your family is silent, some huffing out annoyed sighs, but you’re only staring at Gerri as she continues.

“Did you know they can finish a six page essay in one hour and end up getting an A? Or that they’re a master at balloon darts and can hit two at once? Or that they know every lyric to Taylor Swift’s entire discography? Or the fact they hate dancing but will do it anyway just to make you smile? Or that they will help you do just about any house chore out of the kindness of their heart without asking for anything in return?”

Your gaze softens as your heart fills with nothing but love for the woman sitting by your side. All you could look at was her and fall even deeper into all that she was–your parents and brother no longer taking an inch of space in your mind.

“Within the twenty-something years you had to really know your own child and sibling, I only needed one to see that they’re pretty fucking incredible and it absolutely blows my mind that such an amazing person can come from assholes like you.”

Eyes widening slightly at the sudden profanity, you look over at the mortified expressions on your family’s faces at Gerri’s closing statement. “How dare you speak to us that way, young lady.”

“No, how dare you for showing so much love and attention to Satan’s spawn while neglecting the literal best thing in your life.”

“I think it’s time for you to leave. Both of you.” Your father says sternly, looking around the establishment for a manager to wave over.

Gerri sighs in relief, pushing out her chair first and you slowly follow suit as she pulls you with her, “That we can agree on.”

Moving around the table, you don’t miss when Richard mutters, “Bitch.”

Knowing you’ve already caused a scene, you thought it wouldn’t hurt to spill his glass of red wine all over his white button up and khakis. “Dick.” You mutter back, not wasting another second being in their presence and quickly making your way out of the restaurant.

The drive back to Gerri’s house is radio silent, the two of you processing tonight’s catastrophe. When you pull up to the house, Gerri breathes heavily as you walk through the front door, the grip on your hand tighter than the one you had on hers.

While she was coming up with different ways to murder your family in her head, your mind was still reeling in the fact she had the courage to stick up for you in front of the people she just met and that you couldn’t love her more for it.

The brunette sighs in exhaustion, turning to face you when you find your way into her bedroom, her mind still running a million miles a minute from what just happened, “I’m sorry for flipping out in there, I just couldn’t fucking stand them talking to you like mmph–”

You abruptly cut Gerri’s sentence short, using your free hand to cup her face and press your lips against hers. She gasps in surprise, taking a few seconds to process the new sensation but then quickly matches the kiss before you can think about pulling away.

Her lips move against yours softly and sweetly as she feels her knees begin to weaken slightly, needing to slide her hands onto your shoulders to keep herself from falling.

Though you’re both completely lost in each other’s touch, Gerri suddenly recalls the situation you just walked out on and gasps, being the first to break the kiss.

“Oh my God, I totally fucked things up for you back there didn’t I?” She pants, her breath blowing across your face as hers remains close.

You could care less about the effects of tonight’s dinner from your parents. The one thing you knew for certain was you wanted to hold Gerri and not let her go, “I’ll figure it out.”

Your lips find Gerri’s again, feeling like it was exactly where you were supposed to be. The brunette sighs with contentment, her arms now wrapping around your neck to pull you closer as your hands slide down her waist.

“I really like you.” You say between kisses, making the girl laugh through her nose.

“I really like you, too.” She whispers.

Your big idiotic smiles makes it harder to keep kissing each other, but you do so anyways. With one last long lingering soft press against her lips, you slowly pull away, leaning back just enough to get a better look at the brunette’s face.

Her sea green eyes stare into yours longingly and you swear that looking into them feels like home. One that you’ve been searching for forever and one you’ve found that doesn’t need four walls and a roof, just those gorgeous orbs that make you feel the most peaceful you’ve ever felt.

“Y/n, I-”

“Gerr-”

You speak over each other, immediately laughing afterwards as your heads lean forward until they’re leaning together once more.

“You go first.” You offer.

“What if we both go?” Gerri suggests, brushing her nose against yours and making your head spin faster than it already was.

“What if we say two different things?”

She softly bites her lip, containing a small smile, “Call it a hunch.”

You chuckle, feeling your heart begin to beat harder and race faster at the thought of her thinking those same three words as you.

Leaning your head away, you meet her eyes and nod.

“Okay. On three.” You say, squeezing her waist in anticipation. “One.”

“Two.”

The both of you take a deep breath, “Three.”

“I love you.” You say in unison, making your breath hitch at the sound of her confession. For a moment you think you’re imagining things until Gerri smiles widely.

“God, I love you so much.” She repeats, pulling you forward by your shirt to bring your lips back to hers, kissing you slow and languidly.

Matching her tenderness, your hands slide around and up Gerri’s back, pressing her body impossibly closer to yours like she would fly away if you let her go.

She sighs against your mouth, guiding herself backwards until the backs of her knees meet the edge of the bed and she pulls you down on the mattress with her. One of your hands is quick to move onto the cushion to keep yourself from crushing the girl beneath you, but your lips never leave each other’s.

Beginning to lose oxygen, you reluctantly pull away but continue your trail of kisses over to her cheek, along her jawline, and down to her neck. Gerri’s eyes remain closed, fingers now tangling through your hair and your lips set her skin on fire.

She gasps softly when you find the spot that drives her crazy and she holds you there, craning her neck back to allow you more access and moaning as your tongue runs over her pulse point.

Before she can further lose herself in your touch and grow even more tempted to rip off your clothes in record time, something else pops into the brunette’s mind.

“Shit, I almost forgot!” She gasps, making you abruptly stop what you’re doing and pull away to look down at her with a worried expression.

“What? What is it?” You pant with a face of concern that makes Gerri smile adoringly.

“I got you something.” She says, pecking your lips once more before urgently pushing you to the side and making you roll over on your back.

Relieved that it wasn’t a serious matter, you chuckle as you watch her push off the bed and quickly grab a small box from the dresser.

You push yourself to sit up on the mattress when she takes a seat next to you, nervously biting her lip as she places the item in your hands.

“Little early for a proposal, isn’t it?” You tease, getting Gerri to nudge you slightly.

“Shut up and open it.” She wraps an arm around your back, tracing gentle patterns with her fingers while resting her chin on top of your shoulder and placing a kiss on your cheek.

You smile, excitedly examining the little cardboard box for a second before removing the cover and revealing a single golden key with a chain necklace and a small engraving of Gerri’s initials at the top. Recognizing each curve and edge of the metal, you immediately know what it’s meant to unlock.

“Now you’re able to come and go as you please, free of being pricked by digging through Barry to get the spare.” She tells you with a soft smile, taking the long chain out of the box and delicately placing it over your head until it rests on your neck.

Looking down at the gift, you take it between your fingers and graze your thumb along Gerri’s initials. A few tears build in your eyes, feeling more love from the beautiful soul next to you within a single night than you have for your entire life.

“You’ll always have a home here, Y/n.” She utters, one hand traveling up to scratch along the nape of your neck while she presses another kiss to the single tear falling down your cheek.

Chuckling softly, your head turns to look at the brunette with a loving stare that she returns. “Having you around alone, anywhere is home for me, Gerri.”

Eyes darkening slightly, it doesn’t take long for Gerri to lean forward and kiss you again, this time without any intention of stopping for the rest of the night.

#gerri fields #gerri fields x reader #gerri fields imagine #gerri fields x you #gerri fields fluff #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen fluff #very good girls #very good girls imagine

340 notes · View notes

girlwithwolftatoo · 2 years

Note

It’s four a.m and I get the angstiest ideas when I can’t sleep, but can you imagine Marc calling you Layla by accident during sexy time?

Like, the name just slips from his lips and the second he realises his mistake he immediately goes into panic mode because he thinks he royally fucked and that you’re going to lash out or something.

Poor baby is a crying mess and can’t stop apologising as you asure him you’re not angry (maybe just slightly hurt) and that he’s allowed to make mistakes.

This will be the last "ouch-my-feelings" for today (yeah, it's almost midnight but let's pretend, okay?)

Marc Spector + that's not my name:

*It's like a snap, Marc's eyes go wider and stares at your face with the realization of what he did. He's so shocked he just stays like that, heavy breathing but no signal of thinking in his head.

*Marc retracts, crawling backwards and sitting on the edge of the mattress, making his best effort to say something because, well, he has to say something before you misinterpretate what he's done. Oh dear he's sweating of pure panic and spitting out the first apology is hard.

*"I didn't meant to- I just..." he covers his face with both hands, shaking. "I'm so sorry... I'm sorry, I... I fucked it up, it's all my fault, I didn't..."

*He's so self absorbed in his mistake he doesn't notice you approaching him. Yes, you felt a little hurt, wondering why would he be thinking of Layla while you're the one who's holding him and kissing him, but he looks so unhinged and desperate you truly fear for his well being. Your jealousy can wait a little.

*The touch of your hand burns on his skin. "It's okay, Marc... Hey, look at me, I'm here" Marc's reluctant to lower his hands, and you have to help him to, and see he's crying.

*"Marc?" you try again, softer this time, brushing away his curls. "Please don't be mad" he squeaks, ready to burst in tears once again. You've never seen someone, much less a grown man, react like this to a simple mistake, Marc is like you're about to hit him or spit vicious words at him. You won't. You love him, and you'd never do anything to hurt him.

*You kiss him again, catching his lips between yours, tasting his tears in the corner of your mouth. "Touch me, Marc" you whisper to him "I'm here for you... touch me..." He holds you like dear life, and as to atone his guilt, he works extra hard to make love to you. "I love you, (Y/N)" he says under his breath at every chance "I love you, you're perfect for me... you're the only one for me..."

#moon knight #moon knight series #moon knight headcanon #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector headcanon

168 notes · View notes

skyrim-forever · 10 months

Text

A Solstheim RomCom

Here is Part 1 of my Neloth/OC Fake Marriage Fic! Originally this was supposed to be one part but seeing as it's over 4500 words (with a bit more to go) I'm going to split it into 2 parts (part two will probably be double the size haha). This is cross-posted on ao3 :)

Summary: When Dragonborn and mage Rochelle's plan to get her family off her back about marriage backfires; she is left with constructing a ploy to have a fake husband to prove to her sister she is married and fine. And if things can't get worse, her fake Husband is Master Neloth.

Warnings: None!

Words: 2k

Tagging: @thana-topsy @thequeenofthewinter @ladytanithia thank you all for your nice comments on the snippet <3

To see the Dragonborn in Raven Rock had become a common occurrence. Rochelle of Evermore, or Rochelle of Tel Mithryn, as she became known to the citizens of Solstheim, was in town today to mail a letter to her sister. Colette had sent her a letter the following week, inquiring about her life.

As the older sister she was deeply worried for her younger sibling, especially ever since Rochelle left the College of Winterhold the previous year, due to what she had described as “creative differences”. Rochelle had not felt the need to worry her sister with what she had actually been doing, seeking the Black Books of Hermaeus Mora. Her work under Master Neloth had proved to worry her sister more than enough, causing her to write that “there were many suitors from home and the Imperial City” who would apparently be interested in meeting her and that she should “come visit immediately!”. Her sister, likely pressured by their father, was deeply concerned with seeing her married; despite her disinterest in the subject.

In order to put everyone’s mind at ease, Rochelle had come up with a genius idea, one of her best. In the response to Colette, Rochelle had written:

Dear Sister,

As much as I would love to meet these fine gentlemen

I’m afraid I am already married! I’ve married a fine and wealthy

Gentleman who supports my research.

Please tell Father I am well.

Regards,

Rochelle

It was fool-proof, Colette would see she has done what they asked for and will leave her be. Perhaps they will even shift their questions to ask her about her work, or what Solstheim is like. Anything other than her dating, or rather lack thereof, life.

Rochelle hands the letter off to Captain Gjalund, who has always made good on getting her letters to and from the courier. It should reach her sister in Cyrodiil in a few weeks, then finally, she will be at peace to do her work.

The journey back to Tel Mithryn is typical, if not with less ashspawn than usual, but it is the ash in the air that still gets to her. I suppose I’ll get used to it, as the years go by. Arriving back took the better part of the day, making it evening when she finally returned. Though on the way back she found a hearthstone deposit in the ashlands perfect for Master Neloth. Just as her pack touches the ground, Master Neloth is shouting for her.

“Rochelle! Rochelle! Where is that blasted girl?” Talvas can be heard coming to her defense

“She left earlier for Raven Rock Master Neloth.”

“Find then, Talvas, go make me some canis root tea” Neloth orders.

“Isn’t that Drovas’s job and besides-” before poor Talvas can remind him that he actually already ordered him to practice a new conjuration spell, Rochelle makes her way up the tower.

“Ah there you are! Drovas quit while you were away and I’ve been without tea all day!”

“I’m so sorry Master Neloth, I’ll get started on it right away” she reaches into her waist satchel and pulls out two heartstones “I found these on the way back.” Neloth raises an eyebrow at her.

“This likely delayed your trip causing me to be without tea even longer” yet he still reaches for the stones “but these will be most useful.”

To many, particularly those in his employment, Neloth was rude, self-absorbed and had no regard for the feelings of others. However true this may be did not matter to Rochelle, as she found him refreshing. She recalled her childhood, her mother in the Reach often spoke in riddles to which she could never figure out what was meant; and her father in High Rock had the habit of talking around an issue, never actually voicing his thoughts as to not upset anyone in any direction. But Neloth was always incredibly clear and direct, there was no way to misunderstand his orders.

Pleased that they will be of use, Rochelle goes to grab the canis root and begin making tea. She can hear Talvas attempting to inform Master Neloth of something, exactly what she is not focused on, only for Neloth to disregard him by walking into his enchantment room. It feels good to be back.

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

A few weeks had passed and Rochelle was back in Raven Rock, picking up some food for the residents of Tel Mithryn. Unable to find a replacement for Drovas, himself a last ditch effort, the Dragonborn took it upon herself to act not only as a member of House Telvanni; but as steward as well. She stood on the dock, gazing out to the sea, watching the Northern Maiden approach the island. After a few minutes the ship docks and the workers begin unloading the supplies. One of these must have the order of apples and cabbages.

As she walks closer to the unloading, Captain Gjalund calls out to her:

“Rochelle!” He walks closer to her, grabbing a crate on his way. “Here is your order” placing the crate down, he pulls an envelope from his chest pocket “nearly forgot this, here is a letter, right from Cyrodiil.”

“Ah, my sister” It has been several weeks. The feeling of relief washes over her, finally she would be free from the familial pressure to marry. She understood they meant well, but the talk of marriage always came at the expense of her passions. They never asked about her research, her experiences, or even what she wanted from life. And besides mother and father never married, so why does it even matter anyways? Though, she supposed her parents' relationship was nothing to emulate.

Thanking Captain Gjalund, she moves the crate to the side, stopping to read the letter before the journey back. The envelope is sealed with the crest of her brother-in-law's family, the Redwort Flower in matching red wax. Rochelle reads the letter:

Dearest Sister,

Congratulations on your nuptials! I had no idea

you married, how I do wish you invited the family!

Nevertheless, Father will be quite pleased to have

both his daughters being taken care of.

As I am so curious as to who could capture your heart,

I shall be coming to visit! I’ll be leaving shortly after

this letter is sent, see you soon!

Love,

Your darling sister

Oh no Rochelle thought, her mind scrambling no no no no. Her plan had backfired, her plan could not have backfired anymore. Rather than get Colette off her back, she has enticed her even more. I need to leave, I need to run, I need to fake my death! No, no, Colette is already on her way, it’s too late for that. Tucking the letter into her waist satchel, Rochelle begins to head back to Tel Mithryn at a speed of which Solstheim had never seen.

Floating up the Tower, Rochelle immediately runs towards Talvas, who is currently in his bedroll, having a rare nap.

“Talvas!” She whispers, as to not let Neloth hear. “Talvas! Wake up!”

“Rochelle? What’s going on? Is everything okay? Are we being attacked?” He goes to prepare a spell when she speaks.

“Oh no, it’s far worse than that, far far worse.”

“Huh?” A groggy Talvas says “What are you on about?”

“My sister is coming to visit” Confused as to why this is a bad thing, Talvas asks,

“And that’s terrible because?”

“Because” Rochelle answers, adding emphasis on because “I wrote to her I’m married and now she wants to meet my husband”

“But you don’t have a husband?”

“Yes Talvas, that is precisely the problem. I need to find someone to pretend to be my husband long enough to convince my sister I’m taken care of. Someone wealthy and impressive.” Talvas starts to wake up a bit and with a cheeky smile, he brings forth a suggestion.

“What about me? I could pretend to be your husband.”

“You’re like a son to me Talvas”

“But I’m older than you”

“And yet you fail to be responsible, Master Neloth and I always need to remind you how to cast correctly.” Talvas huffs a bit, Rochelle may be kinder than Master Neloth; but he seems to be rubbing off on her, in more ways than expected. “Besides you are neither wealthy nor that impressive.”

“Alright, tell me how you really feel” He says, before his face forms a pondering look, signaling he is formulating an idea.

“So your letter said you married a wealthy man?”

“Correct” Rochelle answers, unsure as to why he is repeating information she knows back to her.

“And you’re looking for someone to impress your sister but also someone who supports your research?”

“Correct again” She pauses for a moment “Talvas, I’m not sure what you think you’re accomplishing here?” He laughs, although she is not sure she said anything funny.

“I’m just thinking out loud Rochelle” He looks to his left, to which she follows, casting her gaze to where Master Neloth is reading. “But what about Master Neloth?”

“What about Master Neloth?”

“I know he’s not exactly ‘marriage material’ but he is impressive and wealthy.” Rochelle stares at Neloth, his back turned to them, poured over another tome. He is wealthy and one of the most powerful wizards in Morrowind Rochelle stops for a moment.

Master Neloth really was everything she was looking for, having long abandoned the idea of love; she supposed that if she ever did settle down she’d like it to be someone like him, someone who was direct and could show her a wealth of knowledge. “I doubt he’d agree, he would likely consider the whole thing foolish and beneath him; which it is, of course.”

“Maybe you’d two would be a better match than I thought” Talvas laughs. “It can’t hurt to ask, well I guess it can but what other options do you have?” He’s right the only other men who could potentially fit the bill would be someone like Captain Veleth, the head of the Redoran Guard, but Rochelle did not think she could pretend to be married to him. No Master Neloth is the best choice; he and Talvas were those who she saw the most, and therefore she could act easiest with them.

Talvas advises Rochelle to be strategic, bring him some canis root tea and then ask for a favour.

“Explain the situation to him, agree that it’s silly but that you don’t have much time and it would be most efficient if he plays along.”

“You’re right, it is silly and if I can get him to see I also think so maybe he’ll help me out.”

I doubt he’s ever helped anyone Talvas thinks, decided to not tell her as his role is to be a supportive friend. Plus she's already stressed enough.

A cup of canis root tea in hand, Rochelle approaches Neloth, by now he’s moved into the enchantment room, looking over his latest staff.

“I brought you tea Master Neloth”

“Hmm” If he had been annoyed at being disturbed he didn’t let on. Thankful to catch him in a decent mood, Rochelle places the cup down on the desk.

“Master Neloth, I have a favour to ask. You see, well, I, the thing is that-”

“Yes, yes spit it out already! You of all people should know how valuable my time is!”

“Sorry Master Neloth” she takes a deep breath here goes nothing “I’ve received familial pressure to marry and despite my efforts to explain to my father and sister how I do not desire to marry; they have been insistent, citing fears of me going through this world alone. Therefore to get them off my back, I stated that I married a wealthy man and am taken care of. I admit this was thoroughly stupid of me, as it has enticed my sister to come visit and meet my non-existent husband. I would like to ask you to pretend to be that husband for a few days until she leaves.” Before Rochelle can explain that it would require nothing more than referring to her as his wife and a dinner with her sister, Neloth speaks.

“You forgot the apples and cabbages didn’t you?”

“What?”

“You weren’t carrying the crate when you came into the tower.” Rochelle is silent, she was never good with social cues but even she found it perplexing that this is what he chose to focus on. “Return to Raven Rock tomorrow and retrieve the supplies” the woman nods “and I shall do as you requested, even if it is asinine.”

“Thank you Master Neloth.”

“Hmmmmm.”

#skyrim #the elder scrolls #tesblr #tes #fanfic #fanficition #skyrim fanfiction #skyrim fanfic #master neloth #neltoh #neloth/oc #talvas fathryon #poor talvas #here is part 1!#this has been so fun to write #I need to do more goofy things #also this is a great writing exercise #I can see my writing getting better

15 notes · View notes