#none of this would have happened if my mother had the decency to not make strictly capricorn siblings

[beefcakeds]

i forgot that i have to go to the theatre tonight when i clearly want to watch hannibal and eat chips in peace. when will my suffering end?

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Elite Serial Killer (2)

Part 1

Like frightened deer you scatter

In your opinion, you get pretty far

At one point climbing up high to see where the lights of the small town were

You were making great time 

“(Y/n)! Down here!”

The sun was rising and while you were hesitant you did go to meet ‘Piggie’

She seems high-spirited for such a horrible situation

But she shares the berries she’s found that weren’t poisonous

And clues you in on some helpful camping knowledge

So you’re none the wiser when you feel a sharp pain in the back of your head 

 Waking bleary-eyed to the tight hold of a bloody rope around you 

The sun has long since set and all you can gather is that you're tied to a tree 

You hesitate to call for the girl only for somebody’s nails to dig into your scalp

It's her and she looks deranged covered in dirt and blood (it doesn’t look like it's hers)

Being sure to throw rocks and kick at you for emphasis she explains how she already knows the major twist of this hunt

They own the town 

No help would have been given if you had arrived there

Or even to the airport 

So she says she’s going to stand her ground to entrap them the second they come for the bait

And the bait just so happens to be you

When you ask her why it’s because she hates your pity

“At least when they kick me in the dirt they have the decency to know I belong there!”

She sounds demented 

But determined

So much so you’re sure if this was a movie she’d be the 'final girl'

But you’re here so that’s not happening

Hearing sticks snap and bushes shake you’re sure they’re on the way

So you shut your eyes in fear

Saying your final prayers as you feel the heat of another person stalking up to you

“How disappointing I expected you to get farther.”

It sounds like something he’d say before lobbing off your head

So you prepare for the oncoming blow 

Only to hear a shotgun fire off 

‘Piggie’ screams

So you look up to see Wille grinning madly in that direction before turning back to you 

He holds your face gently but firmly

Turning your head as he examines you 

“She really did a number on you.” 

He sighs snapping his fingers 

An unknown masked person cuts through the ropes 

Holding you on their back and securing the back of your knees

“Take them back to my room and patch them up I’ll gladly delight in my prize once I’ve finished.”

Wille takes off in a giddy sprint as he watches another masked servant drive off in a quad bike with you on the back

Now that the only real stake in this hunt is out he can really let loose

He’s been doing this for a long while

Enticing the masses at whatever new college or preparatory school he could 

Providing a plentiful harvest for his family 

And it’s great for a while but unfortunately, he just hasn’t found what’s missing 

His mother and father have each other and their pets respectively

His brother does as well

And then his sister…well she enjoys just hunting

But he was never like her

He took care of his appearance more, grew his hair long, and wasn’t pretending to be an apathetic prick

Though he could see how easy it was to become that way

He hates how forward people are when they want something from him or his family

He does admire the tenacity of the poor

But among the fellow rich? 

Absolutely unforgivable

He can only imagine the terrified faces he stalks being that of those hated elites

And of course, in the midst of a mission to harvest is when he becomes aware of you

It’s not really any one thing you do 

You just happen to exist close enough to his latest harvest grounds

It’s not your college but something of a rival school

And all it takes is one mutual and he’s whipped

Suddenly he’s decided that you're the perfect one for him

The prize  that’s greater than anything he could buy

To be Continued

[footballfanficwriter]

Calm down

Summary:where the reader is stressed out and  Kylian calms her down

I'm at my mother's house right now and we've just had an argument

My relationship with my mother is one I don't like discussing as it's on the rocks, heck on the rocks is an understatement

"We all know why you married Kylian" she says

"Just leave me alone" I say trying to walk away from her

"You're a gold digger, you had nothing, absolutely nothing and now you have everything, you didn't even need to work that hard to get where you are"

Now I'm pissed off, I tried walking away but keep getting provoked , I turn around and reply to her stupid comments

"You have no right, ABSOLUTELY NONE TO SAY THAT, I put myself through school, payed my own school fees, became a lawyer, graduated with honors all around and you didn't even have the decency to come and support me on the day of my graduation

"Hell you didn't even come to my own wedding, you are the only parent i have left, I had to walk down the aisle on my own, even though I don't have a father, I would have thought you would have been there to give me away, so don't  you EVER IN YOUR LIFE say that I never worked that hard to get to where I am in my life" I say feeling tears on my face

"This is what you always do, cry and paint yourself as the victim and manipulate people, that's probably how you got your so called husband"

"My husband has done nothing but stand by me and support me more than my own family, my own mother, when I felt like giving up he's the one that pushed me to keep going, where were you then, when I hit rock bottom, huh?

"I was living my life, what else"

"I can't be here anymore, you know I came here to try and make amends but it's pretty clear that's not happening, I wanted to give you one last chance to change you views and ways, and by the looks of it that's never going to happen,  ever, goodbye mother"

I walk out of the house and sit in the car and call Kylian

"Cheri  ça va ?"

"Kylian, I-I-I-I can't breathe I can't breathe"

"Honey, are you having a panic attack again?"

"Mhm I feel like I'm dying"

"Ok my love, I'm on my way, Just stay on the line with me alright?"

"Ok, I'll stay"

After 10 minutes kylian arrives

He gets into the passenger seat and

"Cheri, parles avec moi"

"I-I-I can't breathe"

"Shhhh, I'm right here"

He pulls me onto his lap and whispers that I must hold onto his hand and listen to his heartbeat

"You're ok, I'm here"

"Ok" I say still shaking

"What happened?"

"I tried like you said I should and she disregarded me, saying how I'm a gold digger, she says I married you for the money"

"She said that?" He asks looking angry , he gets out the car and starts making his way back into the house and walks into through the front door to find my mother in her kitchen

"What is your problem?, your daughter came her to try and make amends and you take a piss on her like she's some dog from the street, you are suppose to be her role model, her first best friend even, but here you are bringing her down, I can't believe you"

"Oh so you're the sugar daddy I see" my mother says

"Your daughter never married me for the money, she was there way before it, you need to get that through your head, she paid for own school fees with no one's help"

"Oh really, and where exactly did she get it from"

"She worked hard for it, taking on double shifts at a cafe that treated her like shit, yet she still continued"

"Whatever, anyone can work, she's not even that special"

"Listen you can insult me all you want but as soon as you get to my wife that's where I draw the line, if you can't see how amazing of a person your daughter is then you're fucking blind"

He says and grabs my hand and we walk to the car, where he opens the passenger door and he gets in the driver's seat and starts driving us home

"You're amazing babe, don't listen to her"

I just nod and stay silent

We eventually get home and Kylian helps me out the car bridal style and walks us into the house

"Let's get you to sleep, shall we"

I love this man so much, he knows how exhausted I get after my panic attacks, he always knows how to calm me down

He helps me undress and gives me one of his big shirts and I slip into them then slip into bed as well

He takes his shirt off and gets into bed then he makes my head lye on his chest

"Just listen to my heartbeat"

"Ok"

"Are you ok, Amour?"

"Yeah, I will be, thank you for standing up for me, I really appreciate it"

"I meant what I said, If anyone hurts you best believe I'm coming for them"

I slightly grin and whipe a tear that's fallen on his chest

"I love you" I say

" je t'aime aussi ma cherie"

[asongofstarkandtargaryen]

JON SNOW DAY 8: FEAR AND TRAUMA 😔

The relationship between Catelyn and Jon is one of the most divisive topics within the asoiaf fandom. No matter where you stand on this debate, we can all agree that the influence each character has on the other’s life is a negative one.

Every time I write about this topic I feel the need to say that no, I don’t expect Catelyn to act like a mother to a child that isn’t her own just because the kid is related to her husband. Jon fans often get accused that we want Catelyn to “mother” Jon but frankly there is not a single Jon fan (at least as far as I’m aware of) that believes she’s obligated to do so. 

With that being said, there is a difference between acting like a mother and treating a kid with basic decency.  Catelyn is failing on the second aspect and fans rightfully call her out on that (same as they do with any character that is horrible other children).

We learn from Jon’s pov that she never calls him by his name. Minutes ago, on the same chapter she calls him “bastard”. Which means that mostly she avoids him, not even acknowledging his presence and that when she has to she’s calling him degrading names like “bastard”.

Her eyes found him. They were full of poison. "I need none of your absolution, bastard." Jon lowered his eyes. She was cradling one of Bran's hands. He took the other, squeezed it. Fingers like the bones of birds. "Good-bye," he said. He was at the door when she called out to him. "Jon," she said. He should have kept going, but she had never called him by his name before. He turned to find her looking at his face, as if she were seeing it for the first time.

AGOT, JON II

Do you know how dehumanizing is for a child never to be called by their own name by an adult that lives in their home? And worst, have the same adult calling them degrading names? Catelyn, by the way she treats him, makes sure that Jon feels unwelcome on the only home he’s ever known.

I often see fans dismissing Catelyn’s mistreatment of Jon as simply avoiding him. Which can be harmful on its own but the thing is that Catelyn’s ill treatment goes beyond of that. Jon is terrified of her to the point he kept postponing saying goodbye to a brother he loved (Bran) simply because he knew she would be on the same room. This kind of reaction isn’t born by a kid who simply doesn’t interact with an adult in a position of power. This kind of fear means that  some negative interactions between them existed in the past. 

The text also supports this, because when Catelyn is irritated by Jon’s presence in Bran’s room she doesn’t simply ignore it. She threatens him that she’ll call the guards aka using her power as the lady of the house to indimidate this  powerless teen:

Once that would have sent him running. Once that might even have made him cry. Now it only made him angry. He would be a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch soon, and face worse dangers than Catelyn Tully Stark. "He's my brother," he said. "Shall I call the guards?"

AGOT, JON II

Lady Stark has casted a large shadow in Jon’s life. During the years he lived in Winterfeel, he always tried to be quiet, in the shadows. He never wanted to be in the spotlight (despite the fact that we constanly see post- Winterfell Jon wanting to be acknowledged) because that would also draw Catelyn’s attention. He also never felt fully belonging on his own home which was partly due to his stepmother’s mistreatment. Even long after he left Winterfell, he keeps having nightmares where she personfies his fears and insecurites.

Finally, I want to write about Jon’s relationships with his siblings and how Catelyn influences them. I’ve seen fans claiming that Jon had a good relationship with his siblings because Catelyn allowed it to happen but I honestly disagree. In my opinion, Jon has a good relationship with most of his siblings despite Lady Catelyn’s efforts to sabotage them. Canon also supports that with Catelyn speaking to a very young Robb about what makes his half brother different to him, to the point of Robb being agressive about it (something that older Robb who isn’t so easily influenced by his mother would never do):

Only this time, this time, Robb had answered, "You can't be Lord of Winterfell, you're bastard-born. My lady mother says you can't ever be the Lord of Winterfell.”

ASOS, JON XII

Another example of Catelyn ill speaking about Jon to her kids comes when she tries to convince Robb not to name Jon his heir. During that conversation she even compares Jon to Theon  (who as far as she knows is responsible for her two other sons’ death) implying that Robb’s half brother is capable of also harming their family:

"Jon would never harm a son of mine." "No more than Theon Greyjoy would harm Bran or Rickon?" Grey Wind leapt up atop King Tristifer's crypt, his teeth bared. Robb's own face was cold. "That is as cruel as it is unfair. Jon is no Theon."

ASOS, CATELYN V

Also, I don’t think it’s a coicidence that the child who is closer to Catelyn (Sansa) is also the one who has the most distant relationship with Jon. As Jon once again informs us in his pov, his sister always called him “half brother” instead of simply “brother”:

He missed the girls too, even Sansa, who never called him anything but "my half brother" since she was old enough to understand what bastard meant.

AGOT, JON III

To conclude, Catelyn hating the fact that her husband has cheated on her and has a child born out of his infidelity doesn’t make her an awful person, just a human one. The fact that instead of blaming Ned she has put all the blame to a powerless child is one of her negative traits and fans are justified to call her out on this.

[bonebabbles]

Jagged Peak sucks too

And I'll say it actually. Gray Wing's anger is completely fucking justified. This has nothing to do with Jagged Peak's disability, this is because he's completely irresponsible with the well being of children

This isn't the first time he lost track of the kittens when he was in charge of them, either. Last time this happened they had to mount a rescue mission.

We see Sparrow Fur get painted a lovely shade of red in her own blood because she ran off on her Father Quest, mauled by One Eye in her goal to reconnect to her mother's domestic abuser, while Gray Wing trusted his brother with ONE JOB to make sure they didn't do something ridiculous

Gray doesn't know that Sparrow looks like a Children's Hospital right now, but he does know she's missing. And he learns where she is from OWL EYES

JAGGED PEAK SAID IT WAS OKAY

FOR SOMEONE ELSE'S CHILD

TO RUN INTO THE FOREST

TOWARDS A GROUP THAT IS HARBORING A WIFEBEATER

AND DIDN'T EVEN HAVE THE DECENCY TO BE THE ONE TO TELL GRAY WING THAT HIS ADOPTED DAUGHTER IS NOT IN CAMP

It gets worse. Gray Wing calls him over FURIOUS and Jagged Peak plays stupid

"IS THERE A PROBLEM THAT I LET YOUR CHILD GO LOOKING FOR HER ABUSIVE BIODAD IN THE WOODS, UNACCOMPANIED?"

Jagged Peak started to look uncomfortable :(((((((((( "im sowwy i thought it would be okey :( after all the wifebeater is HER FATHER, gray wing, guy who was mates with turtle tail and is the only paternal figure the kittens have ever known. i thought you wouldnt be a little bitch about it because she's big enough that a fox could eat her in two bites instead of one."

THESE KITTENS WERE BORN IN SUMMER. IT IS CURRENTLY AUTUMN. THEY ARE, AT MOST, 6 MONTHS OLD. That is assuming that they were born at the start of summer and this is the end of autumn.

Most likely scenario is that we are looking at 4-month-old kittens, and Jagged Peak said it was FINE for Sparrow Fur to run off on her own into the Oh So Dangerous Woods

How many stupid pills is a lethal dose?

You do not, under ANY circumstances, "GOTTA ADMIT HE WAS RIGHT"

EVERY time I believe that this arc has scraped the BOTTOM of the barrel, I hear the sickening crackle of wood and peak over the rim to watch them scooping out splinters.

"all three of them wanted to train with the man who got their mom killed, gray wing. so i let your 10 year old run off into the woods. 10 is old enough to make their own choices gray wing. come on man. c'maaaaan"

Then he starts gushing about how HE is going to be a dad, because that's just fucking GREAT, Jagged Peak. You've really proven how responsible you are and how much you can totally be trusted with children.

RE: This has NOTHING to do with Jagged Peak's disability. None of that is a factor into LETTING CHILDREN RUN OFF INTO THE WILDERNESS UNSUPERVISED

But then The News reaches the Moor cats. Sparrow Fur has been mauled and she is hanging on for dear life. What a turn of events!! No one could have seen this coming!!!!!! Gray Wing rips into Jagged Peak.

All THREE of you suck. NONE of you are okay people. You are all BLIGHTS on my eyeballs and I wish all three of you fell into a meat grinder at the end of this series

Gray Wing downplaying Clear Sky's role in everyone's pain and torment. AGAIN

Clear Sky "ohhh I feel dreadful :(" good. die.

Jagged Peak: "im sorry b-b-b-b-b-BUT your daughter was INSISTENT, so, you have to forgive me for letting her run into the woods alone--"

Before you go ahead, go on back up. Read that again. Sparrow Fur was put in danger because of Jagged Peak's STUPID choice, and he can't even FULLY take responsibility for it. "I AM sorry, I should have checked with you................................ BUT."

Always, ALWAYS in this series, a character who is angry is treated as JUST AS BAD as the person who hurt them and mustered up a shitty apology.

You expect me to take Gray Wing FINALLY expressing anger towards the shitty people in his life as a bad thing?? You think I'm supposed to see this as an expression of ableism???? TWICE now Jagged Peak has let children wander off, they have been KIDNAPPED in the past, and now Gray Wing is faced with losing ANOTHER family member. All because of Jagged Peak being an irresponsible manbaby who couldn't say no to an "insistent" child

His leg had NOTHING to do with this. Jagged Peak is the same reckless kid that charged out of the mountains and forced Gray Wing to follow him to prevent him from becoming eagle food, not thinking about anyone else besides himself, but this time he isn't a kid anymore. He's an expectant father.

Fuck, I'll bet you that it's why he let Sparrow Fur run off into the woods alone in the first place. "I did it and turned out fine!" When he's always had GRAY WING behind him to save his ass

Is this harsh? Yes.

Is it deserved? ALSO YES. Jagged Peak should take this shit to heart and THINK about what it means to be a parent before his children come into the world and have to deal with having HIM for a father

TEA.

A BOSTON HARBOR FULL OF TEA

I hate that the only time this arc ever lets Gray Wing fucking unload onto someone, it has to go and try to make it a big shameful thing that he's NOT being a total doormat. He's RIGHT.

Jagged Peak needs his wife to jump in and stand up for him because he can't face the fact that his stupid, careless decision put Sparrow Fur in danger and his brother, NOTORIOUSLY A PUSHOVER, is rightfully losing his shit with him

Jagged Peak, I hope it felt just as good to smack your brother as it did to call Bumble a fat slob before you stood by and watched her get dragged back to her domestic abuser. The same one you let a kitten run to. I hope your paw falls off.

But before it does, I hope you learn to take responsibility for your actions. Loser ass.

And before someone tries to clown at me about "Oh but Gray Wing was legitimately ableist to Jagged Peak in the past so actually it's not okay that he's yelling at him even though he's totally right!" Do you mean the time he prevented him from running towards a forest fire, the same one that also permanently disabled and ends up killing Gray Wing himself via complications, that everyone could only barely escape from with a lot of jumping? Or do you mean when he told him to defend the camp instead of joining in on the First Battle Murder Party, when Clear Sky was indiscriminately slaughtering people?

Or do you mean when Clear Sky was insulting him in public by calling him useless and Gray Wing was out here trying to insist that he IS useful? Which is its OWN bucket of problematic worms, but no, NEVER in a way that was meant to insult Jagged Peak for his ability or lack thereof.

This is completely new. He has NEVER snapped at Jagged Peak like this.

In fact I even point out in the link above that Jagged Peak shouldn't have to "justify" his existence. His life has value (even though he treated Bumble like hers didn't). That doesn't mean he can't face criticism for what he just allowed to happen to Gray Wing's adopted child. That doesn't mean he'll make a good dad if he doesn't smarten up. That doesn't mean Gray Wing shouldn't be fucking pissed at him.

Shove off, Holly. Shove off, get lost, play in traffic, suck an egg. You should take out your pain on the person who is responsible for sending a child to an unsafe camp with her mother's abuser where she got mauled, actually. That's completely fucking reasonable.

Holly x Jagged Peak FOREVER. HAND IN UNLOVABLE HAND. YOU CERTAINLY DESERVE EACH OTHER, IF NOTHING ELSE

Disclaimer: This is not a Gray Wing defense post. All three brothers are terrible. Clear Sky remains the absolute worst. Jagged Peak is the "least" bad but he's still fucking awful.

[spacecadetspe]

A snippet from last year…

Jun. 26, 2023

This past weekend has been a roller coaster.

I stayed at the Archipelago for several days in a row, and if I'm honest, I'm pretty sure I could stand a few more days.

Phantasos led me to a place where I could get a massage; one of his brothers, Yiorgos ("Doctor") has a pleasant little massage studio on the main island. They burned Oudh and attar for me in my room and set me up with a blood orange mimosa. Phantasos asked me what kind of massage I wanted, but if I'm honest I only know of a few kinds... and then kinds that don't really qualify as massages.

I nervously told him I'd never had the "happy ending" sort, and opted instead for a myofascial release therapy.

Yiorgos is the best massage therapist, bar none. I was more lucid and had more energy than I've had in a long time. I followed a couple dreamers around the Archipelago and got to explore a few of the caves they had built their city around.

The dreamers I followed weren't random choices. One of my mom's brothers came to the Archipelago seeking closure for his grief, and as it happened, so did my father. Perhaps I'll escort them both to a viewing room where they can each check up on their mothers sometime. I don't really want to step on Hades' toes any more than necessary. He's probably tired of hearing from me.

The thought saddens me more than it should. I really should be over Hades, and not care about how he feels about the things I do. He still begrudges Cure's fight with Alecto, as if I had anything to do with it. But part of me still wants to love him, and that means I hate when he's mad at me. I don't like being guilted for things I can't control. I just make the best decisions I can at the time, and that's all I can do.

So I'm probably not going to escort my father or my uncle to the UFU anytime soon.

But I got to spend some time with them in the Dream World, and I enjoyed that.

I met my father while sunbathing in a shallow, rocky creek. The sun and water were nice, but I was soon accosted by what looked like fat blue lobsters. The tiny invasion spread out in every direction from where the revelers played, and each of us wound up tiptoeing around the crustaceans to get out of the water.

Once I was out of the way of their pincers, I found my way to a bigger area where the invasion hadn't occurred yet; a high diving platform in the middle of the water. Just as I was about to go back out into the sun, I heard a shout and turned around. An older lady was yelling in my face, demanding I meet her needs and saying I was "not allowed" to help anyone else before her. When I tried to speak, she drew back and slapped me hard enough to leave a bruise.

I wasn't angry, or particularly startled. My mind went "Okay, I guess this is how we're doing things," and settled in for an unpleasant encounter. I wound up and socked her right back, knocking her to the ground. I slowly walked over and kneeled down on her blouse so she couldn't get up, and licked my teeth.

"Now that I've knocked that sense of entitlement out of you," I said evenly, "you should know we do things differently here. You can treat these good people with some decency, or I will go out of my way to make your stay as deeply unpleasant as I can. Understood?"

She nodded quickly, and I woke up.

Phantasos met me a bit later to tend to my wounds. We made a poultice of bittercress, yarrow, usnea, oil, and wax, and bandaged my black eye. He then mentioned he had work to do regarding seagulls, and opened a portal to the very spot I had been sunbathing in earlier.

"That wouldn't happen to be because of a certain crustacean invasion, would it?" I asked.

He nodded. "They have no natural predators, so they run rampant."

"No natural predators except...?"

"Seagulls."

"And if seagulls will eat them, we probably can too!"

He looked at me quizzically. "What do you propose we do?"

I followed him through the portal. "Let's go fishing."

He rounded up a crew, and we piled into a pair of caïque fishing boats. He asked me to captain the lead boat, since I actually have some real world experience, and we went out to trawl the waters. We weren't too far out when we cast our nets, but the haul was bigger (and stronger) than expected. Some of the lobsters we caught were upwards of 6 feet long! I had the fishermen throw back the egg-laying females, and helped them bind the claws of each one.

All of a sudden, something big bumped the boat, knocking everyone to the starboard side. Phantasos gave a shout that there was a "guest of honor" off to port, and just as I looked, a claw emerged from the waves, as tall as the burgee! The matriarch of the pod was bigger than the boat! Phantasos jumped overboard and grabbed one of its antennae to steer it away, but even he couldn't hold it steady for long. After a while, it just made sense that I take matters into my own hands. After all, we had to get the big one back in to dock.

I jumped overboard to help just as Phantasos jumped back in. I used my power to expand myself to a giant size, and picked up the queen lobster with one hand.

We now have fresh lobster for weeks, if not months. It's all a matter of storing it, and that won't be an issue. I can always build tanks for them, or keep them on ice in the mountains. It seems like a long-lived species, so it'll be good to share them.

I'll bet Grandmother would love some lobster rolls. Everyone was arguing which dishes to make first with the fresh catch, and poor Cyril (the poissonier) was flabbergasted by the sheer amount of meat we got from the big mama. That night, he sent up a simple lobster tail and salmon fillet dinner with summer vegetables. With a fatty fish like salmon, he left the lobster without butter, and it was light and delicate. It makes my mouth water all over again, just thinking about it!

I can't wait to see what the Jotnar think of it. Perhaps I'll take some to the astral guides, as well. The Chef might enjoy it!

I might take a platter of lobster rolls to the UFU, as well. I miss them, and this would be a great way to honor Grandmother and thank them for their service.

[the-firebird69]

Watch "Martika - Toy Soldiers" on YouTube

My brother's clothes and clones expresses what this means it didn't have the hard to have children. In this realm and it is due to the oligarchy and their teachings and what they wanted to use know what they're using to try and stay in power and subjugate everybody and worse. And it's true this song is about that too and it's about her experiences and it's about her clan and they're falling and the clones and the clone Army she's hanging out with them and they are figuring it out now but besides that my brother figured it out a long time ago and he didn't come out and tell me and he told me a few things silently but really it's all over the place like this song for instance. This gets somewhere and Hera is going to lead you to it it has to do with mom

Zues

They are brothers and eventually he got out of them when he was feeding on in the womb and what they were eating or she was eating and he figured out how to do a lot of stuff as soon as books at the X-Men headquarters Westminster and Rochester and all over the place and in Connecticut at the vanderbilts and more houses and none of you care to go and see you might when you hear what's actually happening if you figure it out. What he was was a pig because he was made into one now he was already one but he was turned into a horrific monstrous person dracol killed so many people it wasn't even funny during his era he was known as the biggest murderer on Earth and he's the father of Dracula. And he went back to Spain after they gave him a couple pieces of land and then said none he wiped out practically half the state of Spain and he called it a state because the size of a state he said and he's a mean person our people were okay we had to do things then he created his own lands galatia and there he grew Giants of his own from his mother and father and his wife was left out she was a sad woman and afraid all the time and couldn't stand him and she said it to him quite often he said you'll be okay you're my sister-in-law and your sister is my wife and she got a little mad but she felt better because he keeps it straight in the end she's sitting in her grave but Dave wants her preserved so she's there but it's cool because he keeps it cool. Now listen to me there's somebody that you should be looking for other than her cuz she's going to disappear later on and it's my husband's mom and yes there's a rebel and he is against the empire mostly but he'll kill anybody that's in his way to do the job and it's a massive hassle and his computer is a huge pain in the ass it seems are very evil. So yes I was sitting there observing but we have children and he hasn't found them they're pretty big too but his are nasty and it's because of his mom being grafted to bulge and it doesn't deteriorate the brains it is that they're both trying to survive and they're sharing and that much change in Ken would be like an arm or a leg not a brain not even a whole brain. So it's in coding a little bit sort of it's really doping and the problem is that when they're doing it Dave knows how to make it stick sometimes perhaps so what you get as a clone is a little bit more like the Abomination or the hulk or swamp thing or Jeepers creepers when he's fully pumped up you can't stop that guy and when they're huge you can't stop them so you should go see if Mom's there at least do this assignment fully at least carry through with it and find out if she's where they put her at least. For the love of God have some decency you should know as a people what's going on with them what if Tommy f is the one running those giants simply had Trump drop them on himself I mean come on that's a little strange isn't it

Hera

But she's making sense about and what she says makes sense we should go check if she's there if she's not we know there's a problem and it could be Tommy F or Dave they're the most likely suspects other people that handle the AI too but really it's those two and tell me if it's trying to hide it or get at it and we can't tell and her friend and we think that Camilla does we ask her and she says I don't know I can't get near it and that's torture and she hasn't deserve that after all this abuse and finally abused from her son Dave really it's King David he was a massive massive person back then and still is he's a massive killer and her friend says his name is actually Joseph and I can't stand it because it's Joseph Stalin and he's the one who's shooting at our friend and he wants to know what happened

Mac

[janetbrown711]

Mother Knows Best

Princess Lena goes to tell her mother off for hurting her precious baby boy

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Ao3 Link

To say Lena was furious at her mother would be a massive understatement.

Her heart nearly broke in two when she saw Wakko with a giant bruise on his cheek, and grew angrier when she saw the marking that her mother’s ring had left. Angelina was petty like that– she always wanted to make sure it hurt and lasted too.

At least Wakko was still seemingly okay– he was smiling after all. Still, she had hoped they wouldn’t have to go through what she did– and at three years old??? Her mother lacked any and all decency it seemed.

“Lena, darling, you need to breathe,” William pleaded with her as they stormed through the castle towards Angelina’s study.

“I am breathing, I’m just furious,” She said, before stopping and actually taking a deep breath.

“Sorry it’s just- you know– and I know you know because I know you’re angry too, but–”

“–But you know we can’t risk her hurting you, especially right now,” William held her hand.

Lena scoffed and looked at the ground. “Stupid pregnancy,” she muttered. William laughed a little and kissed her head.

“I’m going to kill her, you know?” She sighed.

“Because that’s what you and the baby need– to be executed for treason,” The ex-knight joked.

“Bah,” Lena rolled her eyes with a smile before remembering she was angry at her mother, and got moving to the study once more.

Her mother was in the study, looking over a pile of old books so Lena had to cough to get her attention.

“Yes Angelina?” The queen didn’t even look up.

“How dare you hit my son. You had absolutely no right,” Lena glared. Angelina sighed, shut her book, and set down her reading glasses.

“The amount of disrespect that poor excuse of a prince and blood relative has is pathetic. And here I thought you two might not be complete disasters of parents, and yet here I am,” She glared, showing the bandages on her arm underneath her glove. Lena growled.

“Whether or not you like him, he's our son, and you can’t lay a finger on him,” Lena slammed her hands on the table.

“I’m queen, I can do whatever I want with those disgusting bastards,” Angelina scoffed.

“Why you no good-” Lena just about pounced, but William grabbed her arm before she could.

“You’re more emotional than usual,” Angelina remarked, getting a good look at her up and down, which made Lena back down and away.

“How many months?” She asked with that annoying smile.

“That’s none of your business,” Lena gnashed her teeth, and William was forced to restrain her differently, but he was giving his mother-in-law glares of his own.

“Do you forget I’m still the queen of this castle, Angie?” Angelina gestured vaguely. “Everything that happens here is my business.”

“Oh don’t you dare,” Lena glared at the sound of her mother’s ‘nickname’ for her.

“Then answer me,” The queen demanded, but Lena went silent.

“Always such a chatterbox, until I actually want something from you,” Angelina rolled her eyes.

“Oh well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. It’s good to have backups in case Yakko’s training backfires,” She shrugged.

“Backfires? What do you mean by that?” William asked.

“He bit me, Angelina. You can do basic math,” She rolled her eyes and sat back down on her throne.

“Then perhaps it’s best we make sure you never have to see either of them ever again,” William suggested. “We’ll have tutors take over the rest of their education and-”

“No.” She interrupted. “I very much will still be teaching Yakko.”

“Why? You said it yourself– he bit you. Wouldn’t it be in your best interest to stay far, far away from them?” Lena clenched her fist.

“Yes, but he still needs those lessons… and I just found the perfect motivation,” the queen said, a glimmer in her eye that made William and Lena freeze.

“Well, we won’t let you be alone with him. Or either- or any of them. Someone will always be with them,” Lena declared.

“You keep forgetting I’m the one in charge here,” Angelina argued. “I control all of the servants here, not you.”

“Then Lena and I will be there. You can’t control us,” William fought back.

“With another child on the way? Please,” The queen laughed.

They didn’t want to admit it, but she had a point– a frustrating, and anger inducing point, but a point nonetheless.

Angelina smiled at their recognition of this.

“It’s good that you two have something in those thick skulls of yours. Now run along to those ‘children’ of yours. We’re finished here,” She waved her hand. However, Lena stayed there, glaring at her mother, trying to think of something to say to her, but coming up completely blank.

“C’mon Lena, let’s go,” William whispered to her eventually, still glaring at the queen. Slowly, he put his hand on her shoulder, and they started to go, but Lena spun around.

“What do I have to do to get you to leave them alone?” Lena pleaded, her eyes filling with tears.

“Lena-” William said, but the queen interrupted.

“Nothing can be done, Lena. You agreed to this the day you married that… filth-” She glared at William, “-whether you were aware or not.”

“Please mother, I-i’ll do anything,” She begged. The queen shook her head.

“You dug this grave all by yourself, Angelina. It’s not my fault you didn’t realize it.”

With that, she waved them off once more, and William understood that they definitely had to leave now. Slowly, he grabbed her shoulders once more, and together they walked out of the study.

“William- i-i-” Lena was choking on her tears.

“I know Lena, I know,” He closed his eyes, tears of his own escaping. Quickly, the two of them made it to their bedroom, and once they closed the door, Angelina quickly broke down sobbing on their bed. William sat next to his wife and held her.

“I hate her William, I-i do! I really, really, really do,” She sobbed.

“I hate her too,” He agreed. “She’s a horrible, horrible person.”

“I-i just want them to be s-safe and happy… is that too much to ask?” She looked into his eyes.

“It isn’t Lena,” He cried and wiped away the tears from her eyes, but she went back to hugging him.

Lena would’ve said more, but emotions overwhelmed her and so she just chose to cry in William’s arms instead. As he rubbed her back, Lena could feel just how much William understood and hated her bitch of a mother too, which made her feel a smidge better.

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, though neither could really say how long. Time seems to slip when one feels like the world is falling apart.

However, tears ceased eventually and the boys needed dinner and so the couple dusted themselves off, took a deep breath, and headed to the nursery where their kids were still playing together.

“Boys, it’s time for dinner,” Angelina said softly.

“Yay! I’m starving,” Wakko bounced up, setting his toys down.

“Me too,” Yakko laughed and set his toy down as well.

“Neither of you gets to eat until you clean this up, remember?” William reminded them, and the boys quickly got to putting things away.

“They’ll be okay… right?” Lena whispered to William.

“Of course, the boys are resilient, as are you” He smiled tiredly at her. She set his head on his shoulder.

“I’m tired of being resilient– Can’t I just give up? Even just for a short while?” She asked.

“You can’t and you won’t, my dear; for you are not a quitter,” He wrapped an arm around her waist.

“It’s okay to feel hopeless, and to cry for hours, but you can’t quit, Lena. The boys and I love and need you far too much,” He kissed her head.

Lena sighed, “I hate that you’re always right.”

“I love you, Lena,” William smiled.

“I love you too, William,” She smiled back, kissing him on the cheek.

She then turned to the boys who were playing some kind of handshake game now. “You boys all cleaned up?” She asked. Yakko and Wakko nodded.

“Good. Let’s go eat then,” She smiled, and together they walked to the dining hall, glad to move on from the mess that had been just a few hours ago and to just enjoy each other’s company.

[make-me-imagine]

Hearts Divided: Chapter Seven - Fate Unknown

Chapter Description: As Y/n grows closer to losing their happiness forever, they send Benedict a message. One last goodbye in case they are separated forever. Refusing to give up hope, Benedict reignites Y/n hope there would be a happy ending to this story.

Chapter Six: Sacrifice For Love Chapter Eight: Secrets Unraveled

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x GN!Reader

Warnings: Bit angsty. Mentions of forced marriages.

Words: 2.4k

-

As your eyes landed on the man you were to be married off too, you felt your stomach twist. He was much older than you, crude, and held no respect for anyone beneath him. You weren't surprised he would have to make a deal to find a spouse.

When his eyes raked over you, you saw a smirk cross his face, and your stomach twisted again. You wanted nothing more than to throw a drink in his face.

You sat in silence as your father and Sir Colton discussed your engagement. As you listened, you slowly felt more and more distant, more numb. They talked about you as though you were an asset being sold, a deal to be made between rich men. Neither of them spoke to you except in reference to your looks, or what good you would bring to a marriage.

By the time you left Sir Colton's home, you felt miserable, unsure if you would ever be happy again. You didn't speak a single word to your father, until he cleared his throat in the carriage.

"You may be angry with me now, but when you see all the advantages this marriage will give you, you will surely be grateful."

Your voice was cold as you spoke, "The only thing I will be grateful for is being away from you."

You did not have to look at him to see the shadow that crossed his face. "How is it you grew so unsavory? You were a perfect child, until-" He stopped, knowing the direction he mistakenly took the discussion.

Turning your hear towards him, you rose one brow "Until what father? Until you tore me away from my home, my friends, everything I ever knew? Until you grew cold and distant, all because of a petty argument with a man who used to be your friend?"

"Enough" He spat out, "We are not going to discuss things that have nothing to do with you."

"How can you still think that it has nothing to do with me? Or mother? You took us away from everything we know, and you didn't have the decency to tell us why!" Your voice had grown almost desperate.

"If Edmund had kept his mouth shut none of this would have happened. If you blame anyone it should be him!"

You felt your heart jolt as you stared at him. That was the closest thing that ever came to an answer about what happened.

"Kept his mouth shut about what?"

Your father, who clearly knew he said too much looked out the carriage window "That is none of your business. Be silent now."

You watched him for a moment, wanting to argue, wanting to fight, but you felt too tired. Leaning your head back as you looked out the window, you thought of Benedict, and your chest ached.

You wanted to see him, you wanted him to hold you and tell you everything would work out. But you feared you may never get the chance to see him again. And if you did, nothing would be the same. You feared the end of your love had been forced on you.

Feeling your eyes grow misty, you tightly shut them, forcing the tears to dry. You would not cry again. You needed to hear Benedict's voice, it was the only thing that could soothe your pain. But knew it was impossible.

You thought of him, worrying for you, trying to think of what to do. You feared he would do something that could harm him, or his family. Maybe you could at least get him a message. You needed him to know you loved him, even if you could not be together.

You stared out your window with bated breath as you watched your maid leave the house. Glancing up at your window, she gave a soft nod before heading down the street.

Letting out a relieved breath, you sat down at your desk. Getting a message to Benedict was hard enough, receiving one in return might be impossible. But at least you could tell him you loved him one last time, and in a way, say goodbye. And now you could do nothing but sit impatiently in your room under lock and key.

Benedict stared at the unfinished painting in front of him. Your eyes stared back at him, but he could not picture them the same. He could not see the same bright hopeful eyes, when he knew you were locked away, being forced into an unloving marriage.

He knew those bright eyes would be dull from pain, your smile faded, and your heart aching. He felt his gut clench as he gripped the paint brush in his hand. Letting out a shaky sigh he sat down, putting his head in his hands. He could not just sit here and do nothing.

As the door opened behind him, he made no movement. When footsteps approached, stopping right beside him he let out a soft sigh "What."

"Darling." His mothers voice was soft, but held something encouraging.

Looking up at her, his eyes quickly fell to the letter in her hands. She smiled sadly at him and handed it over "From Y/n."

Benedict rose quickly as he took the letter.

"Their maid brought it, obviously secretly. They said that they would be coming back by in precisely one hour if you have a letter you would like to send in reply."

Benedict stared down at the letter, his chest tight "I think- I think Y/n will be saying goodbye in this letter." He looked at his mother with sad eyes.

She frowned as she gentle placed her hands around his "At least this time, you will get a goodbye. And it may hurt darling, but this may be the last chance you get to tell Y/n how you feel. Give them something to hold on to, something Y/n can keep in their heart forever."

He closed his eyes briefly at the thought before nodding. She gently squeezed his hand before leaving him alone.

Staring down at the letter he took in a breath before he opened it. Seeing your familiar writing made his heart palpitate. Sitting down as he began to read, your voice spoke in his mind as if you were right beside him.

Dear Benedict,

This is not an easy letter to write. I have so much to say, and so much I wish I did not have to. But the first thing, and the most important is, that I love you. I love you Benedict Bridgerton. I did when we were children, I did when we were separated, I do now, and I will for the rest of my life.

I do not know what will happen in the coming weeks, or if we will ever lay eyes on each other again. Part of me hopes we do not, as I now how painful it would be. Yet, I wish to see you so badly it aches. I need you more than ever, and you are the one person I cannot have.

My mother told me that she came to see you. That she told you what was happening. I was surprised to learn this, yet grateful in an odd way that she did. I feared you would not find out until it was too late. That you would never know why it was happening.

I hope you are not angry with me. I truly think there was nothing else I could have done to keep you and your family safe. I would give up everything to make sure you were all happy. And I know my father could easily take that away. I hope you will forgive me for the choice I made. It was not easy, it hurt more than you could imagine.

I'm locked in my room, as if I am some damsel in a book. But I fear this story may not have a good ending. I feel numb Ben. Today I met with the man my father is forcing me to marry. I was sitting right beside them and they never spoke to me. They spoke of me, but never like I was there. I felt like a pig at auction. Or even a pig being set up to slaughter.

Now comes the part I was dreading to write. But it must be said, in case there it no other chance. If I am truly forced into a marriage with Sir Colton, I need you to promise me something.

I need you to promise me, that once this is over, once I am gone, do not wait for something that will not happen. Do not sit alone in your studio waiting for me. As romantic as the notion might feel, I would hate for you to be alone. If I am married off and taken away, I need you to let me go Ben.

Love me, but let me go. There is still a chance for you to find someone who can make you happy. Who can love you. I need you to find that. One of us must. I need you to be happy. If not for you, then for me. Please.

I will always love you Ben, but I'm afraid our hearts will be divided forever.

Yours Forever, Y/n.

Benedict blinked away tears that had risen as he read the letter. He closed his eyes tightly as he let out a shaky breath.

How could you expect him to be able to let you go? He couldn't. Surely you knew that. You did. But he knew you wanted him to be free of this pain.

Opening his eyes, he looked at the letter again and shook his head. He could not lie to you. He could not promise something he was so certain he could not do. He would wait forever for you again and again.

Rising, he rummaged through his desk and began to write, his hands rapidly moving as he checked the clock. He would not miss the chance to give you a letter in return. He knew it might not be what you wanted to hear, but he would refuse to keep that promise. He would refuse to let you go. You may be divided physically, but your hearts could never be.

Your heart began hammering in your chest as you heard soft footsteps heading towards your room. You waited for a knock, but none came. Instead, you watched as a letter was slid underneath your door before the footsteps receded quickly.

Rushing to the door, you snatched up the letter before listening closely, making sure no one was coming. Sitting in the window, you opened the letter, your stomach twisted with anxiety. You paused for a moment as the evening sunlight cascaded over Benedict familiar hand writing. This might be the last time you ever hear from him again.

Taking in a deep breath, you began to read.

Dear Y/n,

I will begin this letter similar to how you started yours. I love you. I love you with as much passion as every poet in the world could muster. No matter the distance, I can always feel you with me, you are a part of me. I need you to always know that, now and forever. I will never stop loving you. But I also need you to know, I will not let you go.

I cannot. I expect you are not surprised by this. But I must stay resolute in this. I will never let you go. I will wait for you for a thousand lifetimes if I must. I would rather be alone than with someone who is not you. I do not know if this will disappoint you, or hurt you. If it does I am sorry. But I must be selfish in this. You are the only one for me.

I refuse to believe that this is the end of us. Our hearts are one, and I believe the only thing that can separate us is death. Not your father, not Sir Colton. I will hold on to every ounce of hope I can until you are in my arms again.

If I cannot be with you physically, I will be with you in my dreams. In my mind, my soul, my heart, forever.

If I can do anything that might save you from this punishment tell me. I would run away with you to America if you said. So just say. Tell me what to do and I will do it. Anything but letting you go, that I will never do. Not again.

Only Yours, Benedict.

You pressed the letter to your chest as you tightly shut your eyes, hoping to force away the tears that threatened to fall. You knew he would not let you go, even if you begged.

With his words, you felt a small amount of hope burn in your chest. It was faint, but it was there. If there was anything that he could do, he would do it. But what could he do? You could not in good faith tell him to leave his family behind just to whisk you away to another country.

Your mind went back to the carriage ride with your father, when he let something slip. 'If Edmund had kept his mouth shut, none of this would have happened.'

So Edmund found something out. You recalled when you were young, that Edmund kept a journal, perhaps, just maybe, he wrote down whatever if was that he found out.

The hope in your chest grew at the thought.

Maybe your father has something that could tell you what it was he was hiding as well. If it had to do with business, it would certainly be in his office.

You felt your chest burning with anxiety and eagerness. If your father wanted to be cruel, so could you. If you could find something, anything that might threaten his reputation, he might let you be with Benedict.

Rushing to your desk, you began to write. You would not be able to get your message to Benedict until tomorrow, but at east you had found some hope. Any would do. You desperately hoped that your luck had not completely gone. You'd need as much as you had to get you through this.

If you and Benedict were truly meant to be together, this would work. It had to. If not, then your happiness would truly be gone forever.

xx End xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000, @imaginesfire, @rexit-mo, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Bridgerton Taglist: @magravenwrites, @fandomfoodiedancer, @girl-next-door-writes, @savagejane1, @flourishandblotts-inc, @nikirennie87, @theonewithallthemilkshakes, @rach2602, @marrianena, @ambitionspassionscoffee, @tinymushrooms, @persephonesportal, @winnifredburkleismyhero

Hearts Divided Taglist: @belloangelus, @mysticallis, @olixerwxxd, @wotcherboo

[cherienymphe]

Bloodied Crowns (Peter Parker x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, STEPCEST, murder, violence, abusive realtionships, Tony x reader, prince!Peter, king!Tony, queen!Reader

➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ based off of this ask

summary:  When your husband, King Anthony, is killed in a coup staged by his son from his previous marriage, Peter, you are forced to marry the young man who no longer feels the need to hide his feelings.

~

Peter was only eighteen when you married the king, the stern monarch losing his wife only a few months prior. The engagement and the wedding happened so quickly, and before you knew it, you were married to King Anthony Stark. Truth be told, you’d feared that you’d never marry at all, and that you’d bring shame to your name, but a stroke of luck, or perhaps misfortune, had put you directly into the king’s path.

Your family had attended the queen’s funeral to pay your respects. It had been drilled into you to catch the eye of an available suitor, as it had been many times before, and while you were disgusted that you could not even properly pay your respects to the royal family, you understood your parents’ desperation. You were twenty-eight with no prospects on the horizon. They had no other children, no sons, your mother unable to conceive after yourself, and so the weight of carrying on the family name was solely on your shoulders.

Your family was not poor by any means, but you were far from wealthy. That being said, your mother spent an outrageous amount to get you the most captivating black dress money could buy. It was not something that would draw too much attention, but enough so that you did not look like a grieving widow yourself. When it was your turn to pay your respects, you recalled bowing to the young prince, the brunette barely acknowledging anyone’s presence. It was rumored that he and his mother were close, that he’d taken her death very hard, and the way he seemed to stare right through you confirmed as much.

When you bowed to the king, apologizing for his loss, you could feel his eyes on you. This was nothing you concerned yourself with. After all, you were speaking to him and he you, but when you rose, you were taken aback by the intensity you found in his dark eyes. Where his son seemed to look through you, the king could not seem to take his eyes off of you. No one else seemed to notice, and, brushing it off, by the time you returned home, you had forgotten all about it.

Until a few days later when a royal guard was at your door. You were being invited to dine with the king, the invitation extending to your family as well, and although you were confused, you knew you could not refuse. Even if you wanted to. The dinner was nice, and you were a bit surprised at how easy it was to get along with the king. You never thought him cruel, but you’d heard that he was a rather stern man. After supper, he extended the invitation to staying at the castle so that you would not have to travel back so late in the evening. Your mother answered before you had the chance to, and it was no surprise to you that the answer was yes.

The castle was so different during the night. It seemed less welcoming and more ominous, and you found it hard to sleep that night. Convinced that the corridors would be empty, you quietly slipped from your chambers and made your way down to the kitchens. There were still a few servants lingering about, cleaning or preparing for the next day. You felt guilty for bothering them for something to drink.

“Nonsense, my lady. I would be more than happy to get that for you,” a younger girl by the name of Guinevere told you.

“Oh...please,” you waved her off. “No one is around. Call me Y/N.”

Her eyes seemed to sparkle as you told her your name, but she said nothing more as she gave you your water. The dark corridors did not scare you, but the eerie silence was a bit off putting, especially in such a grand structure. You had turned the corner to make your way back to your room when you bumped into none other than the prince. You had almost dropped the drink, and you placed your hand on your chest in an attempt to still your heart.

“Your highness. My apologies, I did not see…”

Your words died in your throat as the prince fixed you with a look that made your stomach churn. You snapped your mouth shut, swallowing as he simply glared at you, brown eyes looking so much darker. You had not seen him since the queen’s burial, and he did not look much better than he did then. Before you had a chance to say anything else, he had shoved past you, almost making you drop the goblet in your hand, and a low gasp escaped you as your other shoulder harshly met the wall. You turned to watch him go, shock and confusion pouring through you, wondering what you had done to offend him so.

It was only a few weeks later did you get your answer.

“I...I beg your pardon?”

The king reached for your hand, a soft breeze ruffling his dark hair as he brought it to his lips. They were soft as they brushed over your skin, and the corner of them curved upwards into a smile.

“Everything is already being arranged, but...this is my formal proposal. I need a queen, Peter needs a mother, and you are everything I could have hoped for,” he told you.

You stared at him in shock, feeling as if the world had been ripped out from beneath your feet. Your mind whirled as you tried to make sense of this and where this had come from, and suddenly, the puzzle started to piece together. The countless dinner invitations, the gleam in your parents’ eyes, the hushed conversations...the prince’s animosity. You were being courted by the king this whole time...and you’d been none the wiser. His chuckle pulled you from your thoughts.

“When your mother told me that you could be quite oblivious, I thought that it was a simple exaggeration.”

He found humor in your distress, you realized, and you swallowed.

“I do not know what to say,” you slowly breathed, and you watched him tilt his head at you, a frown beginning to form.

“You say yes,” he said with a scoffing laugh as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

You realized that to anyone else, it would be.

“Your majesty...I feel as if we’ve only just met. Surely, you would allow me time to think-.”

“Think about what?”

His hand tightened on yours, and you winced. He leaned in, genuine confusion in his dark eyes as he stared into your own.

“I am a king telling you that you are to be my queen...and you are hesitant?”

The severity of the situation suddenly dawned on you. Anthony was a king. You were a mere lady attempting to refuse his proposal for marriage, and your heart sank to your stomach. You blinked at him, and his face suddenly smoothed over as he sighed.

“Ah. I understand what this is about…”

“You do…?”

He softly smiled at you, reaching up to brush his thumb along your chin.

“You come from an acceptable background. You are beautiful and smart and kind. I assure you, this is genuine. This is not some poor attempt to cope with my grief. In all honesty, my marriage to the queen was over long before she died,” he told you.

You looked away, realizing that you were not getting out of this. Whether you liked it or not, you would be marrying the king, and with reluctance and a shaky voice, you accepted his proposal. He straightened when you did, a look of satisfaction on his features, and he looked as if he wanted to kiss you. You were thankful that he did not.

The wedding took place only a couple of months later, every nearby royal, and even some across the water, in attendance. It was a grand and beautiful affair, no expense spared, and it was days later that you found out it far outshined his first wedding. You remembered feeling sick as you walked down the aisle, the feeling only getting worse as your gaze met that of the prince.

In the time since the official engagement, you had interacted with the prince only a handful of times. Each time more disastrous than the last. You told yourself that he was grieving. His mother’s death was sudden and had hit him hard and here his father was, marrying again so soon. You did not fault him for his cold behavior. He was young, after all. You would expect nothing less, to be honest, but you could not lie and say that it did not hurt.

Unfortunately, even after the marriage, he did not soften towards you. Every attempt to get to know him was met with nothing short of loathing, and you finally accepted that he would come around in his own time. The last thing you wanted Peter to think was that you were trying to replace his mother. You did not know how long this would go on, but you did not expect it to be more than a year. 

You were wrong.

“I throw that kid the best birthday celebration a nineteen year old could ask for and this is how he shows his appreciation? By not even having the decency to show up?”

Tony was angry as he sipped from his goblet, glaring down at the attendees dancing below. A wonderful number was being played by a string quartet, several single princesses in attendance, and an hour into the celebration, Peter was still absent. You placed your hand on your husband’s arm with a sigh.

“I am sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for it, Tony. He will show,” you tried to assure him.

His shoulders sagged as he slammed his drink down, and his eyes softened as he turned to you. He reached for you, and you flinched, but he paid it no mind as he brushed his finger along your cheek.

“You are far too nice to him...and he hardly deserves it,” he whispered.

“He’s your son,” you reminded him with a frown. “Do not talk about him like that.”

“He’s ungrateful,” he spat.

“He’s grieving,” you argued.

“It’s been a year,” Tony sneered. “How much time does he need?”

You sharply turned away, swallowing a sigh as anger flared within you. Sometimes Tony could be so insensitive, amongst other things, and it baffled you. Peter lost the only mother he ever knew, and Tony was treating it as if it was something minor. After a few more moments, you excused yourself under the guise of needing some air. In truth, you were determined to track down the prince.

It was not a hard task. He tended to frequent the same places when he called himself hiding. You found him deep within the grounds, lounging on a branch high up in the tree. It was getting late, the sun currently setting, and you held up the skirts of your dress as you trudged towards him. You knew that he heard you, and you resisted the urge to sigh as you stood below him. Your heart ached for him as you could not even begin to imagine what he was going through. After all, you still had both of your parents.

“Peter,” you eventually called.

He yet again pretended as if he had not heard you, a hurtful habit of his, and this time you did sigh.

“Peter, please come down. Your father is concerned about your whereabouts, and...and I am concerned about you. I-.”

“Why have you deluded yourself into thinking I care about how you feel?”

His tone was cold, venom coating every word, and your heart clenched. He rarely spoke to you, every time he did as cold as today, but this was different. You were unsure of what to say, and before you had the chance to remedy that, he was hopping down. It was a bit cool out, and his coat flared behind him as he strode towards you, face hard and nostrils flared.

“Why have you deluded yourself into thinking that I care about you at all?”

You reared back, staring at him with wide eyes. His words hurt, that you would not deny, and as much as you fought against it, you could feel a familiar burn behind your eyes. You swallowed, briefly glancing down as you took a step back.

“Peter-.”

“My mother was not even in the ground properly before you came sniffing around my father like a bitch in heat,” he sneered.

Your lips parted, wide eyes staring at him in shock at his words. You had never seen him look so hateful, borderline murderous, and you suddenly realized that this was about more than grief.

“P-Peter...that… That is not what happened-.”

“Isn’t it?” he wondered, taking another step towards you. “Do you think me stupid? Blind? You think I have never known of the way so many women prayed on my mother’s downfall?”

“I never-.”

“Do you think that I do not know that you all came to her funeral not as mourners, but as vultures? As desperate snakes trying to slip your way into my father’s bed so that you may take her place?”

“No! That is not what happened-!”

“You are no different from the rest!”

He was practically upon you now, glaring down his nose at you with so much disgust it finally made the tears spill over.

“I always knew that you were a desperate and conniving whore…”

You gasped, more tears falling at his insult. He raised one dark eyebrow at you.

“...but I never took you for a liar too.”

You were frozen as he looked you over one last time before breezing past you. You shook, unable to stop the tears, and you felt like you were going to be sick. You had no idea that Peter’s disdain was in fact not misplaced due to grief, but was instead as genuine as could be because he thought you to be something you were not. This knowledge made your heart hurt, and it turned out that you were not as adept at hiding your feelings as you thought.

“What troubles you so?” Tony wondered later that night, his hand on your shoulder as you sat at your vanity.

“Whatever do you mean?” you asked with a small smile.

His gaze met yours in the mirror, and the way his jaw clenched told you that he did not have much patience tonight. His fingers pressed into your skin, and you swallowed. You looked away, eyes blurring a bit as you recalled Peter’s cruel words.

“Peter hates me,” you confessed.

You heard Tony heave a sigh, and you turned to look up at him. He ran his hand through his hair as he rolled his eyes.

“That kid hates everyone and everything,” he replied.

“No, Tony. You do not understand. He believes me to be something I am not. He thinks that I schemed my way into marrying you, that I am trying to replace his mother-.”

“Peter will be just fine. He will grow to get over it in time,” was his enlightening reply, and you stood.

“But it is not true. Tony, does this not bother you? Because it bothers me! He should be like a son to me. He should be looking to me for guidance and care, and he curses the very ground I walk on. It hurts,” you spat, wrapping your arms around yourself. 

Tony’s entire demeanor softened, and he pulled you into his arms. He pressed his lips to your cheek, and you winced at the soreness before he took your chin in between his fingers. He tilted his head at you.

“I love that you’ve grown to really care about him. It warms my cold heart…”

You forced a chuckle at that.

“...but Peter has always been a bit difficult when it comes to me and anything in relation to me. His mother is really the only person he ever really connected with. This will pass, I assure you.”

You reluctantly accepted that Tony just did not care about this as much as you did, and likely never would. Against your better judgement, you opted to let it go, and softly exhaled when Tony pressed his lips to your jaw. He trailed kisses down your neck, tightening his arms around you.

“As much as I enjoy your big heart, I would rather not spend the rest of the night discussing my troubled son,” he murmured, lips finally finding yours.

You did not know if you would ever grow used to making love to Tony. The only time he had ever been anything close to gentle was on your wedding night, and you had still cried, waking up sore and bruised. It eventually dawned on you that this was simply how Tony was, but it did not mean that you had to like it. 

The years that passed did not improve things as you’d hoped they would. Tony was still the same as ever, and Peter was no different. Your conversations with the prince were rare, but every one was brief and left you with a paralyzing chill. When he was not speaking to you, his animosity was enough to force you to keep your distance. The hurt that his behavior caused never got any easier. 

“When you have a child of your own, this will mean nothing to you,” Tony would assure you.

However, it only did the opposite. Even though Peter was not your own, it did not mean that you viewed him any less, and you knew that would not change when you finally did have a child. Whenever that happened. You and Tony had been trying for years, and there was still nothing to show for it. It was a great source of stress for you both, but Tony was taking it much harder than you.

“They say that it took many tries before they were finally able to have Peter, and even afterwards...the queen was never able to conceive again,” Guinevere had whispered to you one night.

“Oh,” you sadly said. “How awful…”

The blonde girl had glanced around the busy kitchen before leaning in.

“The king will never admit it, but many believe that he was the problem, and considering he is experiencing the same thing with you…”

Your heart sank as she trailed off, and despite everything, you found yourself feeling sorry for your husband. Many would argue that you should feel sorry for yourself. After all, it was a popular opinion that the woman’s womb was always at fault, and kings have gotten rid of their wives for less, but you knew that Tony was far too possessive of you to ever do such a thing.

It was a subject you wished you could talk to Peter about. He knew his father far better than you did, and sometimes you wished you could get some insight on how to make this better for him, but Peter was disgusted by your very presence. There came a time when you reluctantly accepted that it might always be this way, but everything changed when Peter was only a few weeks shy of his twenty-third birthday.

Tony, ever the showoff, was having a ball every week for five weeks straight leading up to the night. It was the second gathering when he had dragged you out of the great hall. His hold had been tight, steps hurried, and you forced yourself to swallow down the pain. The corridor was dimly lit and equally as empty, and tears of frustration were kissing your eyes.

“Tony-.”

“I saw you,” he spat.

“Saw me what? Saw me greet one of your friends? Because that is exactly what King Steven is to me and nothing more!”

His dark eyes were hard as he pressed his fingers into your arms, lip curled over his teeth as he sneered at you.

“He desires you. It is plain as day, and he has never been subtle,” he bit out.

“Somehow I am at fault for that? Steven is a bachelor in every sense of the word. That is how he is, and you know it-.”

“Yes, but I thought to myself, surely my loving wife would have the sense not to entertain his antics!”

“I was being polite,” you told him, wincing at his tight grip. “Just because you are only ever nice to people when you want something-.”

You swallowed your words with a sharp shriek, pressing your hand to your hot cheek as the tears finally spilled over. Your eyes were on the floor as Tony shook you, a scathing remark on his tongue, no doubt, when he suddenly stilled, swallowing whatever he was about to say. His sudden change confused you, and you hesitantly looked up only to realize that his gaze was not on you. You turned to find Peter standing just at the entrance of the corridor, his wide eyes on the two of you. 

Tony was quick in straightening you up, and you hurriedly looked away as he acknowledged Peter.

“Why are you not enjoying your celebration with your friends?”

It was a while before Peter responded.

“I noticed that you had slipped out, so I came to find you. I had hoped to continue our...conversation from earlier,” the prince answered.

When you turned back around, you avoided Peter’s eye, but you could still feel the weight of his gaze. Tony’s hand was rubbing into your back as he responded.

“Of course. Sweetheart, you will excuse us, won’t you? Peter and I have much to discuss, and I am sure the other wives are missing your presence,” he said, turning to you.

He threw you a tense and threatening smile, and you shakily returned it with a forced one.

“Of course. I shall see you in there when you return. Peter,” you acknowledged as you hurried past him, avoiding his gaze still.

You did not return to the hall though, but instead made your way down to the kitchen. It was filled with servants, and Mary Jane gasped when she saw you. She and Guinevere were always joined at the hip, but the other girl had been ill for the last few days. The redhead dropped what she was doing, shooing another servant off of a stool before grabbing your arm.

“My God,” she breathed.

The other occupants tended to the food and drinks, much too used to seeing you down here twice a week or so. Mary Jane pressed a cold piece of steak to your face, and you hissed.

“Is it that bad?”

“It is swelling already, your majesty,” she said.

You shifted on the seat, holding the cold meat to your face as you shooed her off.

“I hardly notice how hard he hits anymore. It still manages to shock me every time though, and I have no idea as to why,” you whispered.

She was just about to reply when another voice rang throughout the kitchen.

“Everyone out.”

You turned with wide eyes, confusion tearing through you at the sight of Peter just at the bottom of the stairs. Everyone seemed to hesitate for a moment, worrying about the food, no doubt, before eventually heeding his order. Mary Jane, no stranger to your relationship with the prince, threw you a worrying look before being the last one out. Peter seemed to hesitate as well before huffing, quickly approaching you.

You moved to stop him, but he was already pulling the red meat from your cheek before you had the chance. He stared at your skin for a while before putting it back in place. You held it there as he leaned against the counter, a familiar look of anger on his boyish features.

“This is not the first time this has happened,” he murmured.

There was no need to respond. It was a statement, not an answer. The silence was heavy, thick with tension and filled with words unspoken. Outside of that night, this was the longest you had ever been alone with Peter, and the first time you did not feel uncomfortable in his presence.

“You did not want to marry my father...did you?”

You looked at him with wide eyes, lips parting to refute such a blasphemous statement, but no words came out. Words failed you. Peter was a smart young man, always had been, and you were sure that he would see through whatever lie you pieced together.

“Of course, it was not like you could refuse if you wanted to. He is a king, and you were a mere lady,” he said more to himself than you.

You sighed, putting the steak down as you stood.

“My father has never been kind to anyone in his life. I do not know why I thought you were an exception…”

“Peter… I do not want this to affect how you view your father, do you understand?”

He simply frowned at you, and you continued.

“He is not without his flaws, this is true,” you slowly said. “...but he is still your father. In his own way, he loves you and only wants what is best.”

Peter stared at you for a while before scoffing, a humorless laugh not far behind. He pressed his hand to the counter as he stared at you with a look of shock.

“My father does not deserve you,” he said, almost as if he could not believe it.

He chuckled again, pressing his hand to his forehead.

“All this time, I thought that the two of you deserved each other. I hated you...and now...now I just feel sorry for you. For both my father...and me…,” he quietly finished.

“Peter-.”

“I have been nothing but cruel to you, and for that I am sorry. I am sorry for the things that I have done...and the things that I have said.”

You blinked, convinced that you would never hear those words. They warmed your heart, and you looked away.

“It’s alright. You believed what you believed, and if I were in your shoes, I might have believed the same. Your feelings were valid, Peter,” you told him.

He blinked at you.

“I never wanted to replace your mother. That is still not what I desire...but I am here. I know that there is only a decade between us, but I have come to love you like a son despite everything.”

Peter’s eyes softened, and you could see the guilt there.

“I never wanted to rush you, even now, but I hope that you will view me the same one day. Tony is no longer your only parent, and I am always here.”

Peter looked as if he wanted to say something else, but he held off.

“I should get back before your father comes looking for me,” you said, heading for the stairs. “Oh...and please refrain from provoking him.”

You looked to Peter.

“I may dislike him at times, but I do not want to send him to an early grave.”

Peter simply hummed, sending you a strained smile before you left him to find your husband.

You remained in the corridor as the angry voices bled through the door. Both Tony and Peter assured you countless times that their strained relationship was none of your concern, but it could not be helped. They had never had the best relationship, but if possible, it had soured even more over the years, and you were unsure of who to blame.

The minute Tony started to get more serious about grooming Peter for the throne, things had gone from tense and strained to borderline violent at times. Not only did the two have such opposing views when it came to how to run the kingdom, but your husband had been pushing the idea of marriage more and more lately. It had only gotten worse when Peter neared his twenty-fifth birthday, the party on that fateful day ending abruptly when Peter had stormed out.

You were pulled from your reverie when the door swung open. Peter was the first one out, and he held up a hand as you moved to approach him.

“Not now, Y/N,” he huffed, quickly striding down the corridor with a frustrated sigh.

Tony emerged not long after, and you moved to kiss him, knowing that it would soothe him for the time being.

“That boy will be the death of me,” he complained.

“You both provoke each other, and I do not know why,” you told him. 

“He has duties! He is twenty-five and nowhere near taking them seriously. It seems that he is determined to ruin me,” he spat.

You sighed.

“Would you like for me to talk to him?”

“You seem to be the only one he actually listens to, so by all means,” he gestured down the hall, face cloudy.

You patted his chest before leaving him, wondering if a day would come where you would be a functional family. You and Peter were nowhere near what you used to be, and for that you were eternally grateful, but his relationship with Tony was far worse than it had ever been, and you did not know how to even begin to fix it.

You found Peter sparring with his dueling instructor. The sound of clashing swords was loud, and you rounded the corner, wincing when Peter just narrowly missed a rather dangerous blow. He motioned for the other gentleman to stop once he spotted you.

“Come on his behalf, have you?”

“Peter,” you sighed.

He snapped at the other man.

“Give your queen a sword, will you? Come,” he was talking to you now. “Spar with me.”

You reluctantly accepted the other man’s sword, a grimace on your face as you stepped forward.

“I am a horrible dueling partner,” you complained.

“Nonsense, Y/N. You are far better than what you were a year ago,” Peter said with a chuckle.

Your heart sank a bit at the sound of your name, but it did not distract you from blocking the swing of his sword with your own. Peter smirked at you.

“See?”

“Peter, this is not why I am here,” you told him.

“Of course not,” he calmly said. “My father knows that between the two of you, you are the only one I actually respect. He believes that you have some sway over me...and I am not reluctant to admit that he is right.”

He blocked your blow, quick to do so again when you swung your sword down towards his legs. He eyed you, a bit of pride in his gaze.

“Very good,” he praised.

“I was hoping to talk you into agreeing to some sort of compromise with him. Any compromise, really.”

Peter let out a humorless laugh, spinning before bringing his sword down over his head. Your eyes were wide as you lifted your sword, the sound of them clashing meeting your ears.

“There is no compromising with that man. He is determined to bring this kingdom and all of its subjects to ruin, and he wishes for me to just stand back and watch. He does not hear a word I say,” he spat.

He swiped his sword at you, several times and in several different successions. Unable to keep up, you were not surprised when your sword was knocked from your hands. You did not flinch when the tip of his blade found your throat, confident that Peter would never hurt you. He pressed the tip further, eyes locked on yours, and you swallowed.

“Do you agree with him?”

“Of course not,” you honestly answered.

Peter lightly dragged his blade down your neck and towards the top of your dress, his eyes following its movement before he quickly snatched it away. He tilted his head at you, raising an eyebrow as he waited for you to continue.

“You know I do not agree with how your father runs this kingdom, but I have no say. I never did. Believe it or not, Peter, you have much more influence than I do.”

He turned away with a disbelieving laugh.

“Somehow, I doubt that…”

“Look, I am going to say something that I know you are not going to like,” you suddenly said.

Peter did not respond, so you continued.

“I think that you should consider marriage.”

You saw him straighten at that, back tense, and you rushed to say something else.

“If Tony feels that you are taking your future seriously, then he will be more inclined to take you seriously.”

He turned to you with a withering look, and you rolled your eyes.

“Do not look at me that way. I am not saying that you have to marry some poor girl right away, but at least make an effort to look around, and show Tony that you are attempting to meet him halfway,” you advised.

Peter gave you a hard stare for the longest time before eventually rolling his eyes and looking away.

“Very well. You always do get your way, don’t you, Y/N?”

Your mouth parted for a moment before you snapped it shut, looking down. This did not go unnoticed by Peter, and he neared you.

“What is it, now?”

Your eyes met his, and you tried to hide your hurt, but it must have been clear as day. Peter’s entire demeanor softened, and he stuck his sword in the dirt, reaching for you.

“What is it?”

You exhaled.

“That...is another thing I had hoped to discuss with you.”

He frowned in confusion.

“You still refer to me by my name…” you watched as his face fell. “And I do not wish to rush you, I never have, but when you say my name...it makes me feel as if I am doing something wrong here.”

“You are not,” he rushed to assure you. “Believe me…”

“I do not want to replace your mother, but if I am doing something-.”

“It is merely a force of habit. That is all,” he interrupted. 

“You are sure…?”

“Positive,” he said with a small smile.

“...okay,” you said with a nod. “...and what will you be doing after this...?”

“I will be speaking with my father,” he reluctantly told you.

“Good,” you said, Peter bending to allow you to quickly peck his forehead. “...and please be polite. I hate the way you two provoke each other.”

He roughly exhaled.

“Yes...mother…,” he seemed to bite out, eyes on you.

You looked to him with wide eyes, heart swelling as your smile grew. You chuckled, kissing his forehead one last time before leaving him to finish his instruction.

Contrary to what you had hoped, your advice did not improve things. Now that Peter had agreed to at least looking for a wife, it just gave him and Tony one more thing to disagree on, and disagreements about the smallest of things only gave room for disagreements about more serious matters. Peter hated the way Tony ran the kingdom, and you could not fault him for that.

Meals were more tense than ever, and it soon became suffocating to be in the same room as father and son. You did your best to keep the peace between them but there was only so much you could do. Especially when the arguments would get so intense that you feared for them. Tony could get so angry, and while you had never known him to put his hands on Peter as he did you, it still worried you that he might one day. And Peter…

Sometimes Peter would get a look in his eye that chilled you to the bone. He would get so fed up with his father, lips pressed together as Tony tore into him, and you would see the younger man’s eyes flash with something you could not name. It was a look that terrified you and made him look like someone that was not Peter, at all. 

Tensions only mounted as your birthday neared. You did not want either of them involved in the party planning process, convinced this would be the final nail in the coffin. Truth be told, it was also for yourself as well. It allowed you to breathe better.

“The party is tomorrow night, and Peter has yet to have the last fitting for his attire,” you told Mary Jane as you stood.

“I can finish this up, your majesty, while you go find Peter,” she replied.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely! I am almost finished, anyway.”

“Wonderful! I shall return shortly. There are only so many places he could be at this hour…”

The corridors were scarcely occupied as you decided to check Peter’s chambers first, making your way to his wing of the castle. You were unsurprised to find them empty, and you quickly made your way outside. He had a habit of frequenting the grounds, the maze especially, and you were confident that you would find him there then. 

You had not been inside the maze for a while, but you remembered how to navigate it vividly. You were deep within it, somewhere in the middle perfectly between the beginning and the end when you stumbled upon a sight you were not prepared for.

At the other end of a long stretch, were a couple, far too wrapped up in each other to notice your presence. You felt your face heat up as you stumbled upon the lovers, and you were prepared to turn back when the young man lifted his head, familiar eyes meeting yours. A gasp escaped you, and you were frozen on the spot as Peter simply stared at you.

He did not break his gaze as he continued to thrust into the woman beneath him, who you absentmindedly recognized as Guinevere. Her eyes were closed, clinging to Peter as moans tumbled from her lips, and even though Peter was silent as he stared at you, the heat in his eyes was undeniable. Finally coming to your senses, you willed your feet to move, but you did not escape in time to miss the way Peter’s deep moan rang throughout the air.

Upon your return, you told Mary Jane that you were unable to find Peter. You did not want to think of the awkward encounter, and told yourself that the tailor had never been wrong before. You were positive that Peter’s attire would fit. You did not see the young man again until the following day, your birthday, and it was only an hour or so until your party. Tony was meeting with a few of his Lords when there was a knock on your chamber door.

You were quick to answer it, surprised to find Peter on the other side. You only felt uncomfortable for a moment before you took in his attire. You beamed, widening the door to allow him in.

“Oh, Peter, you look positively dashing!”

“Did you doubt that I would?” he smugly wondered.

You threw him a look.

“I swear, you are getting more and more like your father every day,” you told him with a chuckle.

“I got you something,” he suddenly said, and it was only then did you notice the box in his hand.

You blinked in surprise, eyes widening when he opened it to reveal the most beautiful necklace you had ever seen. The ruby heart in the middle was positively blinding, standing out against the rest of the diamonds that made up the band. You pressed your hand to your chest, mouth parting.

“Happy Birthday.”

“Oh my… Peter, this is so sweet of you,” you told him.

“Well,” he started, setting the box aside as he took the piece of jewelry into his hands. “It is not every day that one turns thirty-six.”

He motioned for you to spin around, and you obliged.

“This might also double as an apology for yesterday. I regret that you had to see that,” he chuckled.

You joined him, waving him off.

“Nonsense, Peter. It was a bit of a shock, but nothing more. You are a young man, after all, and I could never fault you for doing what young men do. You are treating Guinevere well, I hope? She is a sweet girl.”

Peter groaned.

“Yes, Y/N.”

Your heart sank at the sound of your name, and you frowned a bit.

“I am treating her just fine,” he assured you.

You chose not to comment on his use of your name, wondering if you had done something wrong.

“Would you ever consider marrying her?” you pushed.

Peter was quiet as he brought his hands over to lower the necklace at your neck. It was not one that rested at your décolletage, but at your throat instead, and your eyes widened a bit when he pulled it back. You reached up to your neck, forced to stumble back into his chest to keep from choking, relaxing a bit when he finally clasped it together.

“No,” was his simple answer. “It is not like that.”

He rested his hands on your shoulder, turning you around to admire you. His dark eyes took you in before finally focusing on the necklace, the corner of his lips lifting a bit. He pressed his finger to the ruby heart, drawing patterns over it before eventually stepping away.

“It looks great,” he told you.

“Thank you. We should track down your father before they start my own celebration without me,” you replied.

It was not long after that the three of you were entering the great hall, a smile on your face as everyone greeted you. Tony and Peter were at your sides, and both of their hands rested at the small of your back as they guided you to the royal table at the head of the room. Everyone only quieted down when you took your seats, and you looked down at the familiar faces with a smile.

Your attention was drawn to Peter as he stood, raising his glass as a servant came by to fill them. He only filled yours and Peters, but another quickly came to fill Tony’s. Once everyone’s glasses were filled, that was when Peter spoke.

“I would like to propose a toast…”

He turned to look down at you, dark eyes unreadable as he swallowed.

“...to the woman who loved me even when I did not deserve it.”

Your heart swelled as you smiled at Peter, so happy that you two had come this far.

“No one could ever replace my mother...and I would not want them to, but you, Y/N, you are the next best thing.”

Your eyes softened, realizing that while maybe Peter did not see you as something akin to a mother just yet, he still loved you, and that gave you hope. You could live with that for now. Peter’s eyes fell onto his father, and he suddenly smiled.

“...and to my father, the king. If it were not for you, Y/N would never have come into our lives.”

His voice was even, but his eyes glinted before he turned to the rest of the royal court, his glass held high.

“To the king and queen. Long may they reign,” his voice traveled over the room.

Everyone else repeated his words before taking a drink, you and Tony following suit. As you set your glass down, you watched, a bit concerned, as Peter swallowed all of his wine, a look of satisfaction on his face as he lowered his glass. You turned to Tony, prepared to ask him if he wished to say anything, just as he let out that first cough.

It sounded nasty, and you frowned, prepared to ask him if he drank too fast when he coughed again, blood staining his bottom lip. Your heart fell to your stomach, eyes widening as you reached for him, hands trembling. You were prepared to call for help when you noted the sound of several coughs reaching your ears, followed by screams.

When you turned towards the rest of the room, you saw every single one of the royal court coughing up blood, and you stood on unsteady legs as understanding dawned on you. You reached for Peter, your hand gripping his arm as fear and horror clung to you.

“P-Peter…”

You looked to him, but his face was stony as he looked down at everyone. The only people who were okay were you, Peter, the servants, and the few guards. You watched as Peter waved his hand, confusion filling you as two guards opened the door to let more in. You were frozen as they all drew their swords, stomach churning as you realized what was about to happen. You turned back to Peter, but he was already moving past you.

“Peter, what- what is happening? What are you doing?”

You lunged for him as he drew a dagger, hand fisted into his fathers hair to pull the struggling man’s head back.

“Peter, no!”

He shoved you away, right into the arms of a waiting guard, and you did not turn your head in time to miss the way he dragged the blade across his father’s neck. A scream left you, belonging to a voice that you did not recognize, and you continued to scream and cry as the guard backed up. Peter pointed at you, his father’s blood coating his hand, his face unrecognizable to you.

“Get her out of here…”

His eyes met yours, dark with a harmful intent that terrified you. Who was this man? He ran his eyes over you.

“...and do not let her get away.”

You fought against the guard as he dragged you away, kicking and screaming all the way. Your efforts did not even cease as you made it into the corridor, having been forced past the dead bodies of your friends and acquaintances. The guard towered over you and was easily double your size, so all of your efforts were useless. 

He only let you go when you reached Peter’s chambers, dragging you through the receiving chamber to toss you onto the floor of his bedchamber. The impact made your head spin, and by the time you pushed yourself to your feet, he was already pulling the door shut. You slammed your hands against it just as you heard it lock, and another sob threatened to escape you.

You had only ever been in Peter’s room a handful of times, and you wrapped your arms around yourself as you looked around. Your chest hurt, heart breaking as you recalled the way Peter had so callously taken his father’s life. Your husband was dead, and it was no secret that the man was far from perfect, but his absence scared you. What would become of you now? Why did Peter not poison you like the rest? God, had his feelings never changed, at all? Had he still secretly hated you this whole time and wanted to get some sick satisfaction out of killing you here?

You lost count of how many times you tried the door before moving to the balcony doors. They too did not budge, and you kicked them in frustration. You could barely form a coherent thought, and more tears spilled over as you realized just how alone you were. You did not understand anything. Why would Peter do this?

As you heard someone enter his receiving chamber, it occurred to you that you might get your answer.

Your eyes met Peter’s as he entered his chambers, and you stumbled back, afraid to take your eyes off of him. You watched as he locked the door behind him, and the sight of that made your face crumble.

“What have you done?” you shakily asked.

The room was quiet save for your soft sobs, and you flinched when Peter took a step forward. He did not look like the young man you knew. He stood there in the dark attire he had picked out for your birthday, looking every bit like the murderous man you now knew him to be. A dark strand of hair kissed his forehead, jaw clenched as he eyed you. It started to lightly rain outside, and your eyes fell to the blood on his hands.

His father’s blood.

“Have you come to kill me too?”

Finally, his face shifted, and he frowned at you.

“Kill you?”

Peter scoffed, laughing to himself as he tilted his head at you.

“You could not be farther from the truth…”

“Then what do you plan to do? What are you doing, Peter? I do not understand…”

“My father was going to run this kingdom into the ground. We both know it…”

You started shaking your head before he was even done.

“Something had to be done.”

“Not like this! You killed him- you killed everyone,” you cried.

“...and here I thought you would be thanking me,” he sneered.

“Thanking you?”

“Unless I was wrong, and you enjoy being slapped around,” he threw at you.

You felt as if you were just slapped then, and you pressed your back into the wall, tightening your arms around yourself.

“Not like this, Peter. Not like this,” you tearfully murmured.

The rain got louder, filling the otherwise silent room with some noise, and you flinched when lightning flashed, shedding light on the room and on Peter’s dark gaze.

“What will become of me? Did you ever think about that? I am the widow of a murdered king. A king murdered by his own son in a coup!”

“...and the future wife of the next one,” Peter calmly stated.

You froze, his words failing to make sense despite the fact that you heard him just fine. Something about them did not sound right, and your lips parted, a shaky breath escaping you.

“What...what did you just say?” you hesitantly questioned. 

Peter took another step towards you, and you slid along the wall...away from him.

“Do you have any idea how much it pained me to watch you with him?”

“Peter…”

You shook your head, still moving away as he moved closer.

“Do know what it was like to watch him mistreat you again and again only to turn around and reap the spoils of his marriage as if he had not just caused you harm only moments before?”

His voice was low, thick with something you were too disgusted to name. Your eyes were wide, filled with tears as the reality of the situation dawned on you. Peter’s feelings, his father’s murder...the two of you alone in a castle full of people that have proven their loyalty to him. Peter was only eighteen when you married the king, standing face to face with you, but now, eight years later, the young man towered over you.

He suddenly chuckled, and the sound terrified you more than anything now.

“I find it funny… My father was always telling me that royals take. We take what is ours. We take what we believe we should have. That is what we do, son,” he mocked. “We take.”

His cold eyes bore into yours as you stumbled away from him. In a circle the two of you went, and you pulled on the handle of the door as you pressed your back to it. Fresh tears spilled as it refused to budge.

“Now look. I have taken his life, I have taken his kingdom, and I have taken the woman he thought belonged to him-.”

He swallowed the rest of his words as you suddenly dived to the other side of the room. Peter followed, and you reached up to pull the portrait from the wall, tossing it at him only for Peter to evade it. You frantically crawled across the bed, kicking Peter in the chest as he reached for your ankle. You fell to your knees on the other side, running to the balcony doors with tears in your eyes.

Again, the doors would not budge, and you were prepared to throw yourself through the glass when Peter was suddenly there at your back. He enclosed you in his arms, and you reached back to fight against him and push him away, but he only pinned you between him and the glass. The sound of the thunder drowned out your screams, and you yelped in shock when he fisted a hand in your hair, yanking your head to the side.

Peter was determined to taste you, tongue and teeth brushing your skin as he ground himself against you. Nothing you did seemed to deter him, and it suddenly felt hard to breathe. The storm raged outside, wind pushing rain against the window. One of Peter’s hands dragged up your leg, pushing the skirts of your dress with it, and you slammed your hands against the window, attempting to push back.

This only egged him on, and he moaned in your ear.

“Peter, please,” you begged

You could feel the air against you, and your efforts to get away only increased when you felt him moving to release himself. The hand in your hair moved to your neck, cutting off your airway as he pulled your head back to rest against him. You struggled to breathe, nails scraping against the glass. He leaned down to cover your lips with his own, kissing you for the first time, and you sharply inhaled.

He moaned at the taste of you, his tongue meeting yours, tasting the wine that you wish had killed you too. You both struggled against the window, your hands turning into fists when he pushed his leg between yours, quickly followed by the other. You turned your head away, your small victory overshadowed by your ultimate defeat as he thrust into you. You yelped just as Peter shuddered against your back, a long sigh escaping him as he pressed a hand into the glass beside your head.

He pressed his face into your hair, grinding against you, the sound of him breathing you in reaching your ears. Your own forehead was pressed to the glass now, tearful eyes taking in the storm as Peter dragged his cock in and out of your unwilling core. Your body shook from both your sobs and his ministrations, and again, you pushed against the glass in hopes to push him away.

He merely shoved his chest into your back, forcing you back against the glass before wrapping his arms around you again. One hand pulled at the neckline of your dress, ripping it straight down, and your lashes fluttered when he slipped his hand beneath the fabric to roll his fingers over you. His other arm came across your middle, pinning your own at your sides.

“You are finally mine,” he breathed after a while.

You shook your head in denial, another lightning strike bathing the room in a glow. It was gone as quickly as it came, and you were forced to focus on Peter’s reflection in the window. He was lost in the euphoria of you, the feel of you wrapped around him, sucking him back in again and again.

“Finally,” he groaned. “At my side and in my bed as my queen…”

His hand slipped from beneath the torn fabric of your dress, dancing along your skin before his fingers brushed over the diamond choker at your neck.

“I have all night to claim you as mine, and no one is around to stop me.”

“Peter, this is not you-.”

“Oh, but it is,” he sighed. “This is the man you loved when he did not deserve it. This is the man you will marry, bear children with…’

You let out a choked sob, fresh tears falling at his words.

“Oh, please. Everyone knew that my father was the problem. He was the only one in denial about it, and I have a feeling that by the time I am done with you, you shall be with child by tomorrow.”

“Peter, please,” you screamed.

His hand tightened on your throat, pulling your head back so you were forced to stare at the ceiling, back arched to take his slow and purposeful thrusts. He kissed the corner of your eye before doing the same to your cheek. His breathing was choppy, heart pounding in his chest, and the way his hips stuttered told you that he was close.

“Oh God,” he moaned, stilling against your back as he spilled himself into you.

You froze against him at the feel, realizing that there was no turning back. You shook in his hold, feeling the urge to be sick when he suddenly pulled out of you, replacing his cock with his fingers. You gasped, reaching down to grab his wrist as he shoved a second finger inside of you, the wet sound of it reaching your ears even with the rain outside. He pressed you to his chest as he curled his fingers into you.

You bucked your hips, ashamed with your actions as he pulled pleasure from you like it was nothing. LIke he somehow knew your body better than you did. His lips were at your ear, brushing against your skin before he trailed them to your neck again, pressing kisses there. Your nails dug into his wrist, but he paid your efforts no mind as he thrust his fingers into you, setting a pace that had your legs shaking. You knew that if it were not for his hold, you would have collapsed already.

Peter hummed when your breath hitched.

“You are close...aren’t you?”

“Peter...stop,” you shakily begged.

“I shall stop when I feel your arousal dripping down my hand,” he purred.

His words had you clenching around him, and he moaned against your neck.

“I suppose I cannot blame my father for being so possessive of you. Your walls feel like heaven…”

“Peter…”

“I do not know how I will ever allow you to leave our bed-.”

“Peter-.”

“I guess I shall just have to keep you tired…”

“Please-!”

“Come for me, Y/N. Fall apart for your king,” he whispered.

And you did. You seized in his arms, walls clenching around him, your arousal coating his fingers and dripping down his hand. Your nails drew blood, but he only moaned with you, cursing as you rode yourself on his fingers, your other hand reaching back to twist into his shirt. That was the hardest you ever came, and shame filled you.  As you came down from your high, Peter lowered the both of you to the floor.

It was only then did you notice the bloody handprints on the glass. The same blood on you, no doubt. More tears sprung forth as it all seemed to hit you, and Peter forced your head onto his shoulder as he shushed you. You obliged, and he leaned down to press his lips to your forehead, rocking you as you sobbed in his tightening arms.

~

tags:   @xoxabs88xox @harryspet @readermia @opheliadawnwalker3 @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @lokislastlove @notyourtypicalrose @coconutqueen21 @hurricanerin @hyoyeoniie  @cocoamoonmalfoy @mandiiblanche @gotnofucks @oneoftheprettynerds @doozywoozy @mcudarklibrary @melli0112 @buckybarnesplumwhore @dramaholic18​

[saffloure]

ೃ༄HIT DICE (II)

EDDIE MUNSON X HARRINGTON!OC

MASTERLIST

✧chapter two: the sword of damocles

↳ word count: 6,9k

↳ spoiler warning: season 1-3

↳ other warnings: I believe none! v fluffy

↳ mentioned songs/artists: The Smiths, Veteran of the Psychic Wars by Blue Öyster Club (reference), Live After Death by Iron Maiden (album), Heaven and Hell by Black Sabbath/Dio, Young Hearts by Commuter

↳ a/n: writing Stacy and Steve’s interactions brings me so much genuine joy… we love annoying siblings

The last week of November was rainy, although calling it rainy would be a grave understatement.

It was raining cats and dogs, heavens pouring out. Almost as if the sky above Hawkins split in two, vomiting all of its contents on the unfortunate townspeople.

One of them being Stacy Harrington.

Normally, Thursday's were quite busy for the dark-haired girl. Seven classes in a row followed by her science club meeting, only to later having to grab the groceries her mother was making her pick up each week. Today, however, having an AP chemistry test and not being able to park her car close enough to the grocery store was enough to completely diminish the crumbs of her already loop-sided mood. Her hairdo was completely disheveled, her clothes soaking wet. On top of that, she tripped over her untied shoes, shattering the juice bottle in pieces and destroying an aglet in her left boot in the process.

Now, the only thing Stacy dreamed of was to change into her pajamas and listen to The Smiths while reconsidering all of her life choices that had led to her today’s misery.

"I'm home!" she called loudly as she passed the kitchen door, only to hear no response.

Not surprising at all.

Sighing, she laboriously climbed up the stairs. The clinking sound of her bag's metal buckle resounded through the hallway when it accidentally slipped off her shoulder. With the appearance of a veteran of the psychic wars she opened the door of her bedroom. The only thing she had in mind was to slam her body on her fluffy bedding.

Yet, as it often happened in Stacy Harrington's life, nothing went as planned. And instead of relaxing in her warm bed, she let out a terrified shriek the second she noticed three silhouettes in her bedroom.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" she screamed loudly, dropping her bag on the ground.

"Hey! No swearing near the kids!" the firm voice of Dustin Henderson reprimanded her.

Him and his two friends were already seated, each in a different place — Dustin behind her desk, Mike on the pouf near the window, and Lucas on her bed.

Shaking her head as she approached the boy in the Camp Nowhere cap, Stacy responded in a resilient tone, "What the he—! What the heck are you doing in my bedroom?"

"Well, as the matter of fact, we came here to see Steve," Dustin answered evasively, watching as his friend's younger sister took off her soaked jacket.

"Sorry to disappoint, but he's probably at work," Stacy replied, her face getting red the moment she noticed Lucas getting comfortable on her bed. "Sinclair! Get your shoes off of my sheets! Have some decency, dude!"

"They're not...!" Lucas tried to argue but the moment he noticed the visible mud on his sneakers, he corrected himself, "Sorry..."

"Believe it or not, we've already been at Family Video. No sight of Farrah Fawcett," Dustin explained, crossing his arms. "Robin says he went on a date."

"Again?" The tone in which Stacy responded caused Mike to chuckle. "Geez, you can wait for him if you want to," she added with a resigned smile.

"Actually, Stacy..." Mike stopped as soon as he started, noticing the morbid stare that had just made a return on her face.

"No. No way. Don't tell me he’s promised you something… again," she interrupted, watching all of the boys suddenly glancing at each other. Almost, as they were communicating through telekinesis.

"It's your lucky day, Stacy! You gotta drive us to the party meeting!" Dustin exclaimed in an excited tone that usually was so infectious it made others equally agitated.

Yet, this wasn't the case of Stacy this time.

"Don't you have a sister, who can drive as well, Mike?" she complained, tilting her head to the side.

"N-Nancy's busy."

"Guess what? So am I!" She threw her hands in the air, noticing Dustin standing up.

"Pretty please, Stacy! Just this one time," he begged in a childlike tone.

"Oh, don't make those eyes, Henderson. You look like your asking your mom to buy you a toy," Stacy sighed, simultaneously grabbing a denim jacket that was hanging from her chair. "You're fortunate enough I like you," she mumbled.

The moment she turned on her heel, she heard the three boys bursting out in excitement, muttering quiet expression of joy. She couldn't help but smile at their reaction. On the span of the past two years, they had ultimately grew on her. So much so, she stopped treating them as annoying neighbors and began to see them in a nearly friendly-like light. Heavy impact on the matter had the fact they had fought outer-dimensional monsters together… but now it was only a secondary thought.

"One more thing!" Dustin called after her before they walked out of her room. "Can you also pick us up?"

"You've gotta be kidding me..."

"It's pouring outside!"

As much as she wanted to throw an immature fit, claiming she had other, more important things to do, Stacy forced a smile onto her face, trying to keep her composure.

Four hours later, apparently driven by her own lenience, Stacy found herself on the school's parking lot, revising her biology notes just to kill time. It had already gone dark, the moon illuminating the town of Hawkins through the massive dark clouds.

However, it wasn't impatience that had cluttered up her mind just now. She had returned to the spot she dropped them off half of an hour early, just because of a merely real sensation that began to appear in her consciousness. It being the fact that it was Eddie Munson, who was the party's Dungeon Master.

She hadn't spoken to him for two weeks, ever since the unpleasant resolving of their last conversation. Stacy Harrington would have never admitted that, but that matter had become a reoccurring theme in her mind. In classes they shared, she caught herself glancing at Eddie whenever she got a chance. It wasn't the stare the girls tended to send their love interests, no. What was causing her to do so, was the indigestible guilt of not knowing how to start a conversation. Something within her claimed Eddie could get embarrassed by her. Maybe he didn't even fancy talking with her in the first place. After all, it was her, who forced their first meeting. Granted by the fact he could've agreed on it purely out of sheer politeness.

Stacy slammed her head on the steering wheel.

Why were social interactions the only aspect of her life she couldn't be confident in?

"Screw that," she murmured to herself, getting out of the car.

The unexpected outburst of her own bravery surprised her. Now, strolling through Hawkins High corridors, she shoved her hands into the pockets of her denim jacket, trying to maintain the shallow cockiness.

It didn't take a long time to locate in which classroom the Dungeons and Dragons meeting was taking place in. The contrary, actually, hence the sound of agitated high schoolers was quite audible in the empty school. Stacy took advantage of their investment in the game; standing by the repealed doors, she leaned on the frame, silently watching the party screaming in excitement as one of their members — Stacy recalled his name started with the letter G — approached the board.

"Hit dice! Hit dice!"

"Gareth the Great is under a fainting spell when the Basilisk sinks its fangs into his skin! He cries for help, or so he thoughts! His voice is already erstwhile... Only seconds share his body to join in!"

"Don't say!"

"Beware! Thy days are coming to inevitable end, Gareth the Great! You can only wait ‘till sweet death releases you from your impending doom!"

Stacy's eyes widened at the sight of Eddie Munson elevated posture. His dark locks falling down the sides of his face as he announced to the players the two possible choices they could make — save their friend or slaughter the beast. One contradicting the other. She remembered Gareth's name now. How could she not when he so frantically clamored for help?

It's just like theatre, Stacy thought to herself, subconsciously grabbing the doorframe when it was Dustin's time to proclaim the party's choice. Shivers came down her spine the second he gallantly stated they were going to rescue Gareth.

The thrill had not left her body since she started listening in. It simply couldn't. Not when Eddie Munson shouted, "The sword of Damocles has been lifted!"

It might have been stereotypical to never expect such a comparison from someone, who repeated his senior year. Not only that — Stacy couldn't help but smile how noticeable his investment in the game was. He appeared to be just in his element; almost as if there was no better place for him.

The game ended with the greatest closing monologue Stacy had ever heard. There was a sudden change in Eddie's demeanor when he asked the others to help him collect their stuff. Yet, the rest of the players seemed to still relive the events that took place, chatting between themselves with the most genuine expression on their faces.

"Is that Stacy Harrington?" The question asked by one of the boys she didn't recognize finally broke her out of the trance she had found herself in.

"Hi," she greeted the party in a quiet tone, suddenly feeling quite embarrassed. That's exactly when she felt the urge to cover it with a smooth, "Sorry for eavesdropping.”

"How long have you been standing there?" Stacy couldn't tell at that moment, but Eddie's reaction was awfully similar to hers.

"Not long enough, apparently," she answered with a soft smile, deciding to set her foot in the dimmed classroom. "You guys have never told me DnD was so gnarly," she added, glancing at the board they started to clean up.

"Either I must be deaf or Miss Hawkins really said our silly little game is cool," Eddie replied with one of his brows raised.

"Well, I've never expected it to be so... addictive to watch. But considering I've only seen the campaigns in Mike's basement I shouldn't have been surprised," she chuckled, taking a few steps towards Eddie. "Can I touch this figurine or will I immediately get possessed by your scary DnD monsters?"

"Possessed. Totally," Eddie smirked at her exaggerated question, yet still deciding to hand her out the figure. "It's hand painted," he did not fail to mention his own hard work.

The moment Stacy raised her eyes to look at his face, she noticed Gareth the Great giving him a quick pat on the back before saying goodbye and leaving the classroom. The gesture made her let out a single chuckle. She fairly recognized it as wishing Eddie good luck.

"I-uh, sorry for that. They can be quite..." Eddie felt the sudden urge to explain herself, yet was stoped by Stacy shaking her head rapidly.

"Don't be. It was funny," she giggled, her attention now fully absorbed by a cassette located on the edge of the table.

"What are you listening to?" she asked, it picking up and noticing the magnetic tape was hanging out of it. "What were you listening to?" she corrected herself, causing the corners of Eddie's mouth go up.

"It's a recording of Iron Maiden's concert... but the quality sucks. Each time it gets jammed on the third song."

"Which concert?" she asked while tilting her head.

"Stacy! You were supposed to just pick us up!" Dustin called loudly, visibly getting impatient.

"We're having a conversation here, shithead!" Eddie reprimanded him, his brows furrowing.

"Hey, don't bully Henderson. That's fucking rude," Stacy intervened, trying to maintain a serious face.

It was impossible, however, when Eddie looked down, nearly taken back by her response.

"Which concert?" she repeated her question, the sweetness returning to the tone of her voice.

"Uh, I don't know if it tell you anything..."

"Don't underestimate me, Munson. It's not like Iron Maiden is an underground band or something," she interrupted him, sending him a challenging smile.

"Live After Death," he finally replied, but noticing the increase in her blinking rate added, "I've warned you that..."

"Oh, come on! You haven’t even heard me out yet," Stacy giggled, amused by his timid reply. "I have that concert on VHS."

"Really?"

"Really," she confirmed, nodding her head. "I can lend it to you. You can stop by tomorrow after school."

"A-at your house?" Eddie muttered, although he couldn't tell how he did it. After all, he was completely awestruck.

"Where else?" Stacy chuckled, handing him back his cassette. "Gotta go. Apparently I'm a voluntary taxi today."

He watched her leaving the classroom and messing Dustin's and Lucas' hair when she caught up to them. As he had lost the sight of her, he slowly raised his hand to touch the place where Gareth patted him a while ago.

To be completely frank, it could've truly been his lucky charm. Especially when the next day, still not believing in what had happened, he knocked on the door of the Harringtons property.

"Oh? Guess who decided to show up!" Falsely offended tone of Stacy greeted him, her hands on her hips, her nose scrunched.

"Who else did you expect, buttercup?"

"Well, definitely not you since you’d decided to skip the last two lessons," she scoffed. "No wonder O'Donnell doesn't want you to pass her finals."

"Now, this..." Eddie smirked and pointing his judging finger at her continued, "...is exactly how I imagined you to be."

Stacy shook her head, letting him into her house, "Excuse me?"

"Ruuude," he whispered directly into her ear, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Oh, shut up," she murmured, playfully nudging his side. "All that I'm saying is you're ought to take this shit a bit more seriously, Munson," she added, beginning to go up the stairs.

"You know, I came here for the VHS, not to be lectured," Eddie replied, following her right away. "Why do you care anyway? 'S not going to be anything new if I fail the finals," he added, his voice getting timid.

"I'm just worried. That's all," Stacy admitted, her cocky persona from a moment ago completely vanishing.

Worried.

Eddie couldn't tell why this word seemed so genuine when spoken by her. Moreover, he couldn't quite find the reason for her being worried about him in the first place.

Him. Eddie Munson. A freak. A person she supposedly had nothing in common with. A person people like her bullied.

And as much as Eddie wanted to surrender the heart-warming flattery — he couldn't. Not while still having some remains of his common sense.

"Oh, would you look at that," Eddie smirked, crossing his arms before the gallery wall in the hallway that led to Stacy's room. "You look like a sad raccoon on that photo," he added, pointing at the picture on which she and her brother were seated next to each other — both in collared shirts and matching Christmas sweaters.

It was the expression on the girl's face that made the photo absolutely comedic: her brow was furrowed, her arms angrily crossed. On top of that, there were remains of a sour grimace on her face — her smile that was making her appear nearly annoyed was probably forced by the influence of her mother.

"A sad raccoon," Stacy repeated in a scoff. "I look like I'm constipated," she corrected him.

"Well... That's another way to put it," he smirked. "Hey, who's that?" He pointed at another frame in which two girls in Halloween costumes were standing next to each other.

"Me and little Chrissy Cunningham," Stacy answered, a soft yet somewhat sentimental smile entering her face. "We used to hang out so much as kids... Our mums are best friends," she explained quickly.

"You don't now?" Eddie asked, quite surprised by her remark. He often saw the two girls chatting with each other during breaks, despite Chrissy being a junior and Stacy a senior. Therefore it was odd seeing the latter now looking away, her demeanor suddenly changing.

"Her boyfriend's a bitch," she spitted out with a slick grin. "I'm sure you know him..."

"Yeah. After all I'm so invested in the life of the Queen of Hawkins High," he rolled his eyes, however his sarcastic remark caused Stacy to giggle.

"Come on! Everybody knows Jason! He's the greatest douchebag our school's ever seen... and that's quite a title to be called by someone's, whose brother was claimed a first-class jerk for majority of his life," Stacy rambled, suddenly grabbing Eddie by the hand and pulling him towards the direction of her room.

"Oi! Careful here, buttercup! You're going to rip my arm off," he joked, praying Stacy wouldn't turn to take a look at him. He didn't even need to see his reflection to know his cheeks were bright red.

"You can live with just one arm," she dismissed his worries, seating him on her bed.

As soon as she left him — quite dumbfounded, to be honest — Eddie glanced over her bedroom, his eyes fixing on one of the bookshelves. At first, he thought there was a multitude of books with thin covers, arranged in coloristic order. It took his brain another while to process that, in fact, the bookshelf was not filled with books, but with vinyls.

"Your room is like a goddamn record store," he murmured under his breath, getting up to take a look at the record player located by the window.

Stacy didn't answer him as she was consumed with attempts to reach one of the boxes with VHS cassettes from the shelf above her desk. With a corner of her eye she managed to observe a smirk that began to dance on Eddie's face as soon as he noticed the record that was left in the player.

"Can I put it on?" he asked with sheer excitement, receiving a nod in reply. "I had no fucking clue your taste in music is that good," he muttered the moment Stacy's bedroom was filled by the opening of Heaven and Hell by Black Sabbath.

"I'm flattered," Stacy replied in a dramatic tone, only to cover how smitten she was with that mere general statement.

Even if Eddie didn't mean it as a compliment.

"Have you heard Dio's version of this song?" she asked after the first verse, making her way towards him. With a nod of confirmation from Eddie, she added, "Well? Which one do you like better?"

Eddie Munson's mouth opened agape.

"Do you really want me to choose between Ozzy and Ronnie James?" he questioned with a expression of true offense.

"Just for the statistics," Stacy declared innocently.

"You're mad, woman! You've completely lost your mind!" Eddie railed at her antics, his left hand theatrically swaying to finally rest in the middle of his chest.

"Anyone would after hearing Dio in '83," she teased him, fairly amused by his dramatic utterance, "Ozzy doesn't stand a chance."

"A blasphemy!" he let out a quiet shriek, his hand clenching in mid-air.

Stacy couldn't held back the burst of giggles that was incoming the moment their conversation started. Bending in half, she covered her mouth with the palm of her hand as she uncontrollably relapsed in peals of laughter. It took her another half of a minute to calm down and look at Eddie with eyes all teared up due to the tittering.

Her bottom lip trembled, unable to stop the unconscious smile when she chimed, "How come we only started talking a week ago?"

A rapid movement of Eddie's eyelids brought him back to reality.

"Well," he said, "it's kind of self-explanatory." He looked around Stacy's room, only to later point at himself.

"Oh, shush!" the brown-haired girl boomed, realizing Eddie was going to compare their differing social statuses once again. Noticing his fretful look, she reassured him, "It doesn't matter, it's just a shame we didn't talk earlier. You're hellaciously cool, Munson."

Eddie chuckled, watching Stacy throw herself onto her bed. His right hand traveled to his matted curls as he scratched his scalp.

"You're hellaciously cool, too, buttercup," he gushed, a wide grin taking up almost the whole space on his face.

He almost failed to noticed when Stacy patted a spot next to her, inviting him to sit on her bed. Her legs swinging from its edge and her torso resting flat on the cozy bedding.

This time, there was no hesitation in Eddie Munson's movements. A sudden streak of comfort hit him like a lighting as he took a place next to Stacy. Not a moment after, he felt his arm being pulled down, so as the two of them were bound to lay down next to each other, facing the ceiling. A sound of another Black Sabbath song from the same record synchronized with Stacy's tapping on the wooden bed frame. Her eyes were shut, a gentle look of perpendicular tranquility mixing with her tender smile.

Eddie couldn't help but to glance at her, turning his head slightly. Her whole appearance mesmerized him — so peculiarly serene, so graceful, Stacy contrasted with the thumping tones of loud metal song playing in the background. Because of that, the only thing that began to occupy Eddie Munson's mind at that moment was to come home and model a Dungeons and Dragons NPC after the ethereal aura Stacy was emanating with.

"Eddie?" Her subdued tone caught him slightly off guard.

"What's up?" he asked, watching her open her eyes.

"I really meant it, you know?" she whispered, turning her head towards him as he waited for her to continue. "The being worried thing," she explained quietly, placing her head on the palm of her hand.

"Oh?" Eddie exclaimed, his eyes, however, still focused on the ceiling.

"If you ever needed help with school and stuff... I don't really mind lending you a hand. That is, of course... if you want to."

Eddie's face completely sunk. He could've also sworn the blood in his limbs stopped circulating. Muttering almost inaudible "sure", he didn't feel the small smile appearing on his face. Focused on not behaving like an ultimate weirdo and destroying the peaceful atmosphere surrounding him and Stacy, he didn't noticed her face lighting up the moment he agreed on her proposal.

However, it had to be a week until Stacy's suggestion had a chance to be realized. Admittedly, the occurrence would have never seen the daylight if it wasn't for Stacy eavesdropping on a conversation that took place during her science club meeting. Eddie's math teacher came to gossip with Ms. Bailey — Stacy's biology professor— about the amount of homework the curly-haired Guild Master was due to hand in as soon as possible. Apparently the work had mounted on so tremendously, the two teachers made a bet between themselves as to see if Eddie was going to complete given tasks before the deadline. When Ms. Bailey stated that she believed he could do it, Stacy knew she was going to do everything in her power to help her win her little gamble. After all, she could shoot two birds with one stone — that being helping both her favorite teacher and the person she had grew so awfully fond of just recently.

Yet, Stacy Harrington's life wouldn't have been completed without having to fulfill her day-to-day duties, first. That why on a first Thursday of December she was making her way to her brother's work place, instead of taking care of her own errands.

The sound of Young Hearts by Commuter welcomed her warmly to the video store — and warmly certainly wasn't an exaggeration. The beginning of the last month of 1985 brought with itself nothing but unbearable wind and arctic freezing temperatures, comparing to what the people from Indiana were used to. Hence why the little brown skirt Stacy decided to wear was causing her legs to tremble from the cold she wasn't prepare to endure.

Yet, all of the feelings relating to her physical state evaporated as soon as she noticed her brother, fully invested in a conversation with a red-haired girl she recognized from her school.

"Steven! Mom says she won't put your socks in the washing machine unless you buy her gloves! She says she's too afraid she's gonna get infected with mycosis!"

The look on the girl's face was indescribably comedic. So much so it made it dreadfully difficult for Stacy to maintain a serious expression. As she muttered, "I gotta go," Steve leaned over the counter in hopes to stop her.

"Hey! Hey! That's not true!" he called out maniacally, however, it had only caused the redhead to speed up and leave the store the quickest she possibly could. "Come on, Stace! Why are you always like that?" Steve whined, covering his face with his hands.

"Because, dingus, if your future lover does not understand the siblings jokes, she's not the one," Robin explained for Stacy, sending her a smile of contempt.

"Ditto!" Stacy exclaimed cheerfully, pointing a finger-gun at her brother, "Besides, if I were you, I'd be so, so thrilled to see me," she added, grinning devilishly.

"Huh! Even if my life depended on you, I'd never be happy to see you," Steve responded sarcastically, watching Stacy trace a line down her cheek, imitating a tear falling down.

"Ouch," she mumbled in a falsely sad tone, leaning on the counter, "Even if I said daddy came home early today?" she added, noticing Steve's eyes beginning to sparkle up.

"No way!"

"Oh, I am as serious as dead man," Stacy whispered, taking her wallet out of her pocket.

At the beginning of each month, usually on the first weekend, Mr. Harrington used to hand his children in their allowance. This, however, had changed as soon as Steve decided against him and did not apply to college. Getting lucky with not being completely cut off the money, he needed to bear the consequences of having strict parents for the first time in his life. Thankfully, Steve wasn't left all alone. Especially not with a little sister like Stacy. Despite all of their bickering, despite all of their pointless fights, she was the one to offer to split her share of pocket money on two. All in all, her parents were less demanding when it came to her — being younger had its blissful pros.

"You guys freak me out more than the gap in Mrs. Click’s teeth," Robin sighed, placing the box full of movies on VHS before Steve and pointing at the display shelf right away, "Put it somewhere on there."

"Yes, chief," Steve saluted, walking up to the shelves and messing up Stacy's hair as he passed her by, "Thanks, booger. You can actually be nice sometimes."

Stacy scoffed, crossing her arms, "I don't know whatcha talking about. I'm always nice to you."

"Sure," Steve sang with an audible tint of sarcasm in his tone, adding, "Wanna go eat something after my shift? But we need to split the bill in half. I'm still broke as h..."

"No, I can't," Stacy interrupted him, simultaneously grabbing her bag.

"Why not? You scared off my date of the night, you're obliged to go with me now."

"I'm tutoring someone."

"You? Tutoring someone? Who?" Steve furrowed his brow, almost dropping the box he was holding to the ground.

"A classmate."

"Is it a boy?" he asked immediately and not waiting on her answer he went on, "Oh my god, Robin! Can you believe that? Stacy's going out with a boy!"

"Steven..."

"Look at her! All grown up now, going on a little date! What a shame if someone went there with you and complain about your dirty socks!" he rambled, overdramatizing his monologue. Noticing how his sister rolled her eyes, he gave her a nudge, "I'm just messing with you. Quit making that face."

"Sometimes I wonder which one of us is more malicious," Stacy mumbled, subconsciously smiling as she walked up to the exit.

"Me, duh," Steve stated, his voice resembling one of a high school girl.

Shaking her head, Stacy started the engine of her car, securing the books that were placed on the passenger seat. Through the whole ride, a wide grin kept being plastered on her face. Her fingers energetically tapped on the steering wheel to the sounds of the cheap mainstream song full of synthesizers. She couldn't help but dismiss the fact of how morbid that tune sounded. To be honest, Stacy couldn't really care less. It was the idea of spending time with Eddie Munson that was making her so unexplainably jovial.

Parking her car by the side of the trailer with the number he had given her yesterday, Stacy grabbed the textbooks she had brought with herself along the way. She didn't even need to knock on the door before she heard them opening. Just as Eddie was waiting for her.

"Hi."

"Hey," he greeted her, letting her through the door. Glancing at her clothing choice, he asked "Aren't you cold?"

Stacy smirked, looking down at her bare legs, covered only by sheer tights, hence the skirt was definitely not providing her any comfort, "Nope. Super cozy, actually."

Eddie shook his head, not believing a word he had just heard, "I have some beer if you want to warm up."

"Shitty idea, really. We are supposed to be studying," Stacy stated in a hushed tone as if she was telling him the most sacred, hollow secret.

Hands on his hips, Eddie smirked, turning his head towards the direction of his room. The trailer him and his uncle lived in was rather meager, therefore Stacy could clearly see almost his whole bedroom from where she was standing. Noticing her widened eyes fixed on the room, Eddie began to feel embarrassed. He had already visited her house, therefore he could easily compare the conditions they lived in. Without a doubt, his room was half, if not a quarter size hers.

"I-I know it's not ideal but..."

"Of course it's not," Stacy interrupted him, hugging the books she was holding. There was a mortified look in his eyes she failed to notice before continuing, "Your desk is non-functional at this point. Look, I know that those DnD figures need to be put somewhere, but we did agreed on learning math today," she complained, pointing at the cluttered up piece of furniture.

A weight had been lifted off of Eddie's shoulder when he heard the light-hearted response. It was that exact moment when he caught himself expecting the worst when it came to situation like those. Almost as he was afraid to make a bad impression on her. Odd, he thought to himself. Amidst everything, Eddie Munson was the last person in Hawkins to care about anyone's opinion. What differed now?

"Well, you can just move them to the side," he shrugged, suddenly regaining his usual composure. "'S not like they bite."

"The figures? Maybe not. But Dustin Henderson? That's a completely different story," Stacy chuckled, sitting on one of the two chairs Eddie had prepared for them.

"Oh, tell me more," Eddie smirked, separating each word to maintain the mysterious tone of the conversation.

"A year ago he tried to bury me alive after touching his freshly painted bard," she explained rapidly, rolling her eyes, "Then he got offended because I said playing as human in a fantasy-based game was for losers."

Eddie couldn't keep himself from laughing out loud at her claim, asking her in response, "So if you ever played... what would be your race?"

"Like a witch covered in warts," she blabbered out without a second thought, "...never mind. I don't think witches are a race."

Eddie smirked, glancing at her agitated face, "Nope. But we have elves for example."

"No, not that. Elves are supposed to be those ethereal nature-prone creatures and I want something... like, really fucking ugly," she confessed, her expression resembling Eddie's, "Don't laugh, I'm being serious! If I were to have a figure, I want it to be utterly disgusting! You know, just to lead people off-track and make them feel uneasy just by looking at it... Ah! A goblin! You have goblins, right?"

"Yeah," Eddie chuckled, covering his mouth with his tangled curls. The way Stacy was engaged in the conversation was nearly making him blush. "You should try playing sometime. I can teach you if you're up to," he offered, noticing her brow dramatically furrow.

"Speaking of teaching..." she grinned, opening up one of her textbooks, "...enough of the small-talk. We're doing math."

"You really do know how to kill the conversation," Eddie sighed, placing his chin on the palm of his hand.

"One of my goblin powers, you know," she winked at him, causing the both of them to laugh. "Now, focus. You'll insult my teaching abilities if you won't."

"Oh, I wouldn't dare," Eddie replied with false politeness, gaining a side stare from Stacy that reprimanded him better than any words would.

It took Stacy around twenty minutes to explain him the two first two types tasks. To her surprise, he had been nodding his head through all of her lecture. It was strange to her how he didn't ask her any questions, so she decided to put his skills into a test. The rules were simple — both of them needed to solve four issues then compare them. It so happened that their three first answers were identical, which caused an expression of surprise to came upon Stacy's face.

"Only the last one is wrong," she muttered, biting on the pencil she was holding.

"I... think you forgot to extract the root," he answered, showing her the correct solution on his calculator.

Stacy's mouth open agape as she took a look at her notes, admitting "Holy shit. You're right."

"This is one of those one in a lifetime achievements," Eddie smirked, "Who else can say they won a homework battle against Miss Hawkins?"

There was rather a long period of silence before Stacy collected her thoughts. By finally doing so, she said quietly, "Edds, it's not like I don't believe in you. I just... how did you..?"

"Helps having a great tutor," he shrugged, yet noticing Stacy's demanding stare, added, "Don't forget it's not my first time repeating senior year, sweetheart."

"So why don't you..." Stacy stopped herself in mid-sentence, hoping that expressive gesticulation would help her find the right words, "...why don't you put in effort equal to the one you put into your campaigns?"

Eddie let out a single chuckle, rolling his eyes, "Because I don't feel like it?" Again, it was that specific Stacy's stare that caused him to answer her honestly for the second time, "...because school's stressing the shit out of me."

His hushed tone made the tension in his bedroom abruptly unbearable. What added to that was the lack of response from Stacy. Meaning, she was waiting for him to continue.

"I... even if I know how to do those stupid math problems, I can't seem to focus on a test. Even with the same exact thing in front of my eyes! I just can't remember any-fucking-thing... And besides, I hate this goddamn place. I hate the people there. I hate the teachers. And I hate that my pea-brain is not fucking working... So that's why I skip classes. That's why I can't manage the deadlines, can't get even a mediocre grade... I-I..."

Only know he realized he had rambled on certainly more than he should. The idea of him confiding in Stacy Harrington made him stutter, almost as if his subconscious mind was yelling at him to stop over-sharing his high school experience. The experience that he didn't even consider as being relatable to her.

"Sorry..." he whispered, frantically avoiding meeting her eyes. His fingers fidgeted with the plastic calculator case as he tried his best not to look up at her.

"You are pissing me off, Munson. So much, in fact, I can't even put it in proper words," Stacy responded through the gritted teeth, her hands finding her way to the sides of Eddie's face. Gently placing them on their cheeks, she raised up his head. "Stop apologizing to me each time you say something not necessarily typical. Because if you think it'll make you look weird — it won't. You're just making it harder for yourself when it comes to dealing with it."

He didn't realize his eyes sunken so much into his face, they were causing him to appear like a cover of Iron Maiden's first album. One of his hands went up, only to drop by his side as he couldn't find the right words to express what he was currently feeling. Hence, in fact, Stacy Harrington couldn't put how he was feeling any better.

"I know this might be a cliché... but I... I do really think you're one of the most dashing people I've ever met. Everything about you, Eddie is so... captivating. I always thought talking with you was going to cause a kerfuffle between..." Stacy rapidly ended her monologue, realizing a sly smirk appeared on Eddie's face, deepening with each word she spoke.

The moment sheer confusion spread across her face, he couldn't keep his chuckle in any longer.

"Un-fucking-believable! You're laughing at me!" Stacy scoffed, half-offended. The other part of her, however, was highly susceptible to Eddie's infectious smile.

"I-no! It's just..." Eddie stuttered through the outbursts of laughter as he observed her face going entirely crimson red. "Dashing, captivating, kerfuffle... You use so much fancy words when you're trying to be serious. Especially the last one! It sounds like you're either a fucking German or completely wasted!" Eddie exclaimed, watching the multitude of emotions going through Stacy's mind and reflecting through the muscles of her face.

"Kerfuffle is a great word," she whispered on the verge of laughter. Her left hand raised once again, this time with a finger pointing at him. "Besides, I'm not the only one, who uses overly-dramatic language, Damocles," she defended herself, referring to the time she walked on his DnD meeting a week ago.

"Hey," Eddie smirked, flicking her nose. "Don't get upset. I didn't mean it as an insult... and to be honest I think it's kinda adorable," he admitted.

"Adorable," Stacy scoffed, looking away in attempts to cover her growing smile. "Have you ever seen an adorable goblin? I don't think so," she muttered with her eyebrow raised.

There had been a strange tingling Eddie began to feel as Stacy joked back. Just as if something was trying to force him to embrace her in a hug, ruffle her hair while laughing at her silly remark. At the same time, he was being pulled back to his chair as the second, more rational part of him, wanted to sit back and observe how her shining curls bounced back as she shifted her upper body in agitation. Hence, in fact, just the simple ability to spend time with her was making Eddie Munson the happiest he had recalled to be through this whole semester. Or maybe even a little bit longer.

"Eddie, buddy, what's that nice cherry Chevy doin' on our driveway?" A deep, raspy tone interrupted the interaction between the two high schoolers, causing their heads to turn towards the direction it was coming from.

"Uh, that's my uncle," Eddie murmured to Stacy ever so audibly.

"Didn't know you were having guests over," the middle-aged man exclaimed, wiping his hand on his slightly grayish T-shirt (that deliberately used to be white) before reaching it out towards Stacy and introducing himself, "'M Wayne Munson."

"Nice to meet you, I'm..."

"Oh, I know you. You're the little Harrington," he interrupted her, causing a wide smile to appear on her face.

"Yeah," Stacy chuckled.

The whole aura of Eddie's uncle was incredibly calming. His easy going presence and the way the words flew out of his mouth were making it easy for her to lean into the conversation.

"'Ya studying something, I see," Wayne pointed at the desk, simultaneously raising up a plastic bag with two white take-out boxes, "I'll leave your food on a table, but if you have told me you invited a friend, I'd..."

"No, that's all right. I've already had dinner." This time it was Stacy, who interrupted Eddie's uncle.

"Whatever you say, little Harrington," he smiled warmly, leaving the two alone in Eddie's bedroom.

"You can have some of my fries for... you know, all the effort," the Dungeon Master smirked, tilting his head towards the direction of their math notebooks.

"A fine method of payment, can't lie," Stacy shrugged with an amused expression. "But just to let you know... as soon as we finish eating we're coming back to solving math problems."

"Suuure," Eddie sang, quickly getting up from his chair.

"Eddie—!"

"What? What are you saying?" he called, leaving his room and leaning over the doorframe, "I can't hear you from so far away."

"Eddie Munson, I swear to god..!"

"I can't hear you!"

[erensrag]

the one -

armin x yn (wc: 12720)

warnings: nsfw/smut, yandere armin, obsession, mentions of stalking, manipulation, toxic relationship, armin being a creep in love basically. summary makes it seem like he kidnaps reader lmao he doesn’t

summary: having seen enough of you managing without him, armin decides to finally take matters into his own hands and make you his.

armin doesn't understand.

he thought he planned everything out perfectly. he gave you your space, hasn’t given anyone the slightest suggestion of his feelings for you—at least the people you both know. he wanted you to come to him willingly, no persuasion or sweet talks.

he did everything perfectly. he's the perfect student, always has been. has gotten straight a's since the moment he entered his first grade, received a full scholarship to some college he could care less about instead of his dream one because that's the one you chose, even helped you with your college admission letters. he's well off, could've—could take care of you your entire life. he's loved by everyone on campus and even in high school, he was the apple of everyone's eye.

you knew how perfect he was back then and how he's thriving right now so how the hell...of all people why him? he clenches the beer can in his hand, watching you stumble up the stairs with none other than his best friend.

this isn't like the other boys you've dated. he can't just threaten or throw cash at him until he realizes you'll always belong to armin and leave you alone. eren doesn't listen to anyone and even if he did try any threats, it'd just ruin the nice guy reputation he’d had spent years building up.

he throws the can onto the sofa, immediately trailing after you two before he can stop himself. he thought spending the summer in everyone’s home town would've just brought them closer—specifically brought you and him closer, that was the plan after all. not you and eren. you two have barely spoken three words to each other your entire lives.

it doesn't make sense.

he thought he knew everything about you. he had organized every single detail regarding you in sections and tucked the pictures in that little box that's been tucked under his dorm bed for years. maybe he gave too much space? college was undoubtedly stressful, he must've become too busy with his studies to look over you. to make sure you made the right decisions and weren't tainted by the hands of everyone around you.

he had screwed up.

but he intends to make it right. to put you back on the right track, the one you're supposed to be on. the one that leads you straight to him.

he found the two of you in some random bedroom, disgust immediately taking over him at the sight. is this who you were now? a few months of not talking to one another and you were already ruining your life by letting yourself get fucked by eren of all people in a bedroom you didn't even know the owner of?

his nails dig into his palms as he watches through the creek in the door, you guys didn't even bother to close it all the way. as if you wanted an audience. eren was already slamming into you, like you were nothing more than a toy dying to be used and defiled. like a whore. is that who you are now y/n? a whore? the more he stares, the more it seems like it. you’re on your stomach, hands clenching the sheets and head thrown back in pleasure.

the pace of his thrusts has you letting out high pitched moans, a bit of saliva sliding down your chin. "e—eren." you cry out and armin would've walked in there and punched the daylights out of his own best friend because no one deserves to hear you calling their name out like that except for him. it's unfair. so unfair he could fucking die out of fury right now. but he didn't. he stood there, frozen because hitting his best friend—anyone is out of character for him.

it would've raised eyebrows and questions he doesn't want to answer. but still...the way eren snaps his cock in you sloppily, the slap of skin against skin filling the room makes him bite down on his tongue to the point of blood. the anger is consuming him and he's not sure he can watch this torture any longer.

"y—you're—n—ngh so big, eren." you moan like a bitch in heat, tongue almost lolling out as eren grabs your hair, pulling your head back even more so he can plant a disgusting kiss on your lips.

at least you're still dressed, outfit clinging to your sweaty body. at least he doesn't get to see anything too valuable. at least armin still has that for himself. it's when eren grips your clothed breast that he decides enough is enough, he's ready to open the door and storm in the room but a hand is quickly grabbing his forearm.

he freezes, has someone been watching him? did they see anything? fuck, are they going to think he's some huge pervert? judging by his actions tonight, maybe he is. he slowly turns around, closing the door in front of him before the person can ask any questions.

it's historia. her pupils are dilated as she leans onto armin's arm. the booming sound of the music from downstairs drowns out whatever she's slurring out right now but armin pretty's sure he has a gist of it. "let's get you home." he sighs, placing his hand on her shoulder.

she shakes her head, "we—gotta...find y/n." she says a bit louder, clenching her eyes shut before opening them again. "my head hurts." she whines.

"that's what happens when you decide to act like a damn delinquent." he mutters bitterly more to himself, it's not like she'll remember any of this tomorrow. "now let's go home before mom kills us."

"but—y/n. we came with her, we can't just...just..." she clenches the front of his shirt before letting out a choked gag.

armin huffs, almost throwing her off before she ruins his clothes but even as annoying as she is, leaving his sister in a place like this isn't such a good idea. especially for his reputation. he would take y/n with him as well but it seems she's too preoccupied. too tainted to think straight.

but like he said, he'll make sure to fix that. he has two months to get everything back to the way they were. and maybe even a little better.

he's waited years for your friendship with him to blossom into something more but it seems nothing will happen without him egging a few things on first.

he spends the entire night tossing and turning, nightmares of the party before repeating in his head over and over again.

if it was anything else, he thinks he would've been able to let it go after taking a few precautions. but this isn't anything else. this is big and it only spirals the blotchy jealously he's tried hard to keep under wraps over the years, threatening to invade his thoughts with vile images.

he's awake long enough to hear the front door opening at three in the morning. immediately getting up and walking towards his slightly open door, knowing it's you. historia and his mother are sound asleep and besides his father who's rarely home due to work, you're the only one left with a key.

he made sure to pressure historia into getting you one as soon as possible the second he found out you were spending the summer with them. groaning fills the silence of the house followed by you stumbling up the stairs. he expects to hear you go into the guest room you're staying in or historia's bedroom but the bathroom door opens instead.

a few minutes passes before he hears you groaning again, this time louder and his feet inch towards the hallway, wanting nothing more than to go to you. but then that angry feeling rises again and an acidic taste resides on his tongue. he doesn't want to be angry at you, he's never been angry at you. he should be furious with eren only. the way he took advantage of your kindness and obliviousness isn't right. if you were sober, you never would've gone for him.

he sighs heavily, walking towards the bathroom door. you're slouched over the toilet, gagging into it and he races over. the concern is etched on his face as his hand rests on your back, startling you. you turn your head, movements sluggish. "armin?"

he didn't even have the decency to walk you inside? make sure you got into bed properly? fucking asshole.

"you okay?" he asks. it's the most you two have spoken to each other all summer.

"y-yeah." you wipe your lips. "sleepy." you murmur.

he gets up, putting his arm around your waist as he helps you stand. "rinse your mouth." he mutters and you obey, going to the sink to put some water in your mouth and spitting it out. "let's get you to bed."

you two stumble out of the bathroom, he makes sure to keep his hands around your waist. his chest constricting with want as he gets to feel you, it's been ages since you two have touched each other. he eyes your bedroom door, that's where he originally wanted to take you but he can't help but think back to that party. at how eren got to experience everything he wasn't able to. then he sees the bruises on your neck, he grits his teeth so hard he's sure they're going to chip any second.

no. he deserves this little thing. it's not like he's going to do anything inappropriate, he's not like that jackass who decided he deserved to touch you like that. he just wants to be near you. it's been awhile, too long. and it's not like you two haven't slept in the same bed before.

that's what he tells himself as he guides the both of you towards his own bedroom, slowly placing you on the bedsheets to which you immediately snuggle into. he eyes flicker towards the closet door, contemplating whether to take out a random t-shirt and place you in it but you'd just be waking up with questions he wouldn't be able to answer. the armin everyone knows can't even look at a girl without blushing, let alone undress her.

so he opts for just laying down besides you on the sheets, he can explain this if you wake up confused. that you just drunkly stumbled in his room and laid down next to him. he turns his head, captivated by every rise and fall of your chest. your eyelashes fluttering as you snuggle deeper into the pillow, letting out incoherent whimpers.

his fingers slowly trace your cheek, chest burning badly with want. all he wants to do is touch, touch, touch. you just look so beautiful, so serene. and he can't help brush a thumb over your bottom lip. the same lips that were moaning out eren's just a few hours ago. that dark feeling is back and he can't help but press his finger down on your lip harshly, you let out a tiny whine but keep your eyes closed, too sleepy to really comprehend what's going on.

what's so special about him? he doesn't get it. eren's a meathead. he isn't fit to take care of you, to cater to your every need and make sure you never have to want for anything. to be ready to do whatever is necessary to keep you happy, even if it means hurting those you don't realize are harming you.

he leans forward, lips ghosting over yours but never touching. no, he wants you to be awake and alert for when your lips finally meet. so you can see no one else in this world but him deserves you. but fuck, he wants to kiss you. your lips look so soft, so addicting, like they were made for him. and they were. every inch of your body was created for him just like his was for you.

he needs to make this right, make you see what was standing in front of you all long. he could punch himself for not realizing he needed to act on this sooner.

but he will now. he'll make sure to fix everything.

armin wakes up before you, not wanting to be in the room when you finally snapped out of your slumber. fortunately, you don't stay asleep too long, waking up only thirty minutes after.

he's already made breakfast by then, blueberry pancakes just the way you like them. you step into the kitchen and he almost drops the glass of orange juice he's holding. you're dressed in his oversized hoodie with some shorts, it practically engulfs your frame as you awkwardly sit on a stool.

you're wearing his clothes.

his clothes are touching your skin right now. making contact with your chest, stomach and breasts. he gulps, placing the glass down. "m-morning."

"morning..." you trail off, slowly drumming your fingers on the counter. "pancakes?"

he quickly pushes a plate towards you, he shamelessly designed it like it held a five course meal instead of simple pancakes but you seem to appreciate it as you gasp. "this looks amazing."

"did you sleep well?" he deliberately asks that question just to see you squirm.

you tense up, picking up the fork as you jab the pancakes. "yeah...uh sorry i was in your room and...bed. must've stumbled in there last night."

"it's fine." he smiles. "i slept on the couch, no worries." the lie flows out as if he didn't spend the last few hours cuddling you like you were going to run away any second.

"oh."

"what?"

"nothing." you shake your head, chewing.

"no really, what?" he presses, leaning on the counter towards you.

"well...i mean i wouldn't have a trouble if you slept in the same bed, it's not like we haven't done it before."

"that was a long time ago." he says but the fact you remembered fills him up with glee. so your mind hasn't been completely infiltrated with his so called best friend, you still think of armin.

"yeah but we were really close before...you know. i'm sure—"

"before what?" he asks, forcing the confusion to appear on his face even though he knows exactly what you're talking about.

you fidget, "before you started to distance yourself." you sigh, perhaps growing a bit agitated under his intense gaze.

"hmm." he hums. "well, studies and all that, you know how it is. but i'm sure you found plenty of people to fill in that hole i left behind."

you raise an eyebrow, "well...i wouldn't—"

"did you miss me, though y/n?" he places his hand under his chin, staring at you. "you walked into my room like it was second nature, snuggled right into my bed like it was home. it was pretty cute."

you nibble on your bottom lip, "i'm sorry about that. gosh, that's so embarrassing."

"answer the question." he urges, tone being a little bit more stern then he intended.

your eyes widen for a moment, "yeah—uh i missed you. didn't you miss me?" you ask shyly.

a far contrast from the moans that were leaving your lips last night. "of course i missed you." he nods. "you, me and historia were such a tight nip group back then. but then college came around and things changed. we changed, didn't we?"

"yeah, i guess."

"you never used to go to parties before and now look at you, stumbling in at three am like some drunkard. makes me wonder what else you've been up to." he continues nonchalantly, plucking a berry into his mouth.

you lick your lips, hands clenching around the fork. a few seconds pass by before you let out a laugh meant to lighten the mood, "i almost forgot how intense you can be, geez lighten up armin. your stare is practically boring into me." you play with the sleeve of his hoodie, trying to hide your discomfort.

discomfort. he doesn't want you to feel that around him. he'll have to change that, make you see his behavior is only intended to help you. protect you from the evils in the world because you're simply too native to notice them. "and i didn't even wanna go to that party in the first place. i suggested star gazing but historia called it dumb."

"of course she did, her idea of a good time is getting so drunk she could faint." he rolls his eyes. "anyways. speaking of change, did you talk to eren last night?"

you almost choke on the pancake, quickly putting the fork down so you can grab the glass of water and gulp it down. "n-no! why would i speak to eren? i barely know the guy."

you've always been a bad liar—always overexaggerating everything.

"just wondering. i haven't been able to get a hold of him. mikasa wants to speak to him."

"mikasa? why?" that certainly piques your curiosity.

"well, they are best friends and he left campus without telling her where he was going apparently. she's at her hometown with her parents and is worried sick."

"can’t you be the messenger or something?”

he clicks his tongue, walking over and sitting next to you. "i'm not sure this message can be passed down through me." he smiles, making sure your thighs are touching.

"why not?" you ask timidly, as if afraid for his answer.

"well, i'm sure you know about how...special their relationship is. right before we left for break, eren told me he was planning on confessing his feelings for her when we got back and then she just texted me saying—"

"what?" your lips form into a frown, doe eyes filled with confusion. it's so cute. so naive and cute. "eren likes her?"

"of course he likes her silly, everyone knows those two are head over heels for each other. practically in a relationship already. it'll be so cute when we get back to campus and see them finally get together, don't you think so? their bond is truly something remarkable."

you stay silent, eyes staring down at your pancakes. do you actually like him? armin refrains from a scoff, how could you be so dumb to fall for someone like eren? "what's wrong? you look like you've seen a ghost."

"f-fine."

he nods, hand going to touch the syrup in the corner of your lips. you look surprised for a second as his tongue darts out to lick his finger. "we'll be spending two whole months in this house together." he changes the subject, having accomplished what he wanted to do. he doubts the eren situation is over yet but he has all the time to permanently destroy it. and he will.

"don't we think we should rekindle the friendship? it's gonna be awkward if we continue ignoring each other."

"you're the one who ignored me." you murmur.

"i wanna fix that, i'm sorry y/n. i'm sure we can go back to where we left off, hmm?"  he lean down so your faces are closer together, your eyes widening at that the movement. "would you like that?"

it looks like you're nodding before you can even register what he's saying. you've always been like that. so compliant. it used to be adorable but now all he can think about is how eren used that submissiveness and naivety to sink his claws into you. no one can be trusted around you. only armin.

"y—yeah." you smile, sullen mood from the news he just delivered temporarily gone. "i've missed you a lot."

"i've missed you too."

"what's this?" you ask as you walk into the living room a few hours later, granola bar in hand. still wearing his hoodie.

"a fort?"

"i can see it's a fort, but why?" you walk over to the sofa, plopping down on it.

"we used to make these all the time in high school, and since we're going to be friends again. don't you think—"

"so a fort?" you hum. "you usually hated when we made these, always calling it childish."

"well..." he steps towards the coffee table, picking up the miniature planetarium he stashed in his closet a few years ago. "you said you wanted to go stargazing so—"

"so you brought the stars to me?" your tone isn't mocking but you do chuckle a bit. "i don't know if that's sweet or just—"

"i think it's sweet." he grins, walking towards you. "so what do you think?" he gestures towards the fort. he didn't spent the last fifteen minutes moving furniture and gathering almost all pillows, sheets and cushions in the house for this for you to reject his offer. he needs to see you with that look in your eyes, looking at the stars with admiration. he misses it. the last sight in his mind is of you at that party, eyes gleamed over with lust and that hammered look. it plays over and over again and he's sick of it.

"sure." you beam, not waiting for him to make the first move as you crawl into the fort. the sanctuary he made for just the two of you.

he goes in after you, thighs touching yours as you sit next to each other. he made the insides small on purpose, just so he could feel you. he turns the projector on and you both watch as the speckles of light start to form on the sheets.

"whoa." you mutter to yourself, entrapped by the glowing of the luminescent blues and purples. "you really did all this for me?" you ask, nibbling on your bottom lip.

"wouldn't be the first time i went all out for you." he moves closer to you, breathing fanning on your face. "i'd do anything for you y/n, i thought you knew that already."

you're his. he should do whatever it takes to care of what's his.

you stare at him, a definite picture of of purity with those big mesmerizing eyes. your mouth gapes open trying to come up with a response but nothing comes out. armin watches a bead of sweat trail down your forehead, it's almost scorching in here. he knows it would've happen in this summer heat so he slowly picks up the mini electric. "hot?"

"w-what about you?" you ask, visibly swallowing a lump in your throat.

he hesitates. c'mon armin. just be a man. so he wraps his hand around your waist and you recoil in surprise as he brings you into his lap so the fan is on both of your bodies. you place your hand on his thighs, squirming to get into a comfortable position. "a-armin..." you laugh, it's awkward. you're trying to ease the tension but he doesn't want that, he just wants to be near you,  consequences be damned.

he's usually smarter than this. smarter than acting before he thinks but that night won’t stop haunting him so he smiles as he leans his chin on your shoulder. "what? am i making you uncomfortable?"

"w—well no but...it's just very sudden. you were acting as if i didn't exist just a few days ago and you're now—"

"i just wanted to touch you y/n. it's been years without your touch." he whispers, resisting the urge to nibble on your earlobe. "didn't you miss me? miss my touches?" he asks innocently, wrapping both his hands around your waist to pull you closer. your back is flushed against his chest, ass directly on his crotch and it takes a lot of will power not to get a hard on.

"i did." you nod eagerly. "of course i did."

"so let me treat you for all those times i missed."

"okay." you say, seemingly without thinking.

"wanna get some barbecue tomorrow ?"

"i have to meet my parents. y'know, getting yelled at for my major. the usual."

he frowns. "they're still mad about that? you should talk to them."

"you know they never listen to me." you squirm again on his lap but abruptly stops as you realize where exactly you're sitting. "it's fine, i barely talk to them anyways. i'm sure they'll finally get over it once i graduate."

he should comfort you, say something along the lines of they'll come around or don't worry but instead what comes out is none of those. "you don't need them." he rustles against you. "i'll always support you y/n. like i always have"

even if you weren't aware, he was mostly always in the shadows and making sure you got everything you wanted. "well, they are my parents."

"they've never cared enough to listen to you, to see you." his tone changes, voice low now as more sweat beads down his forehead. "none of them have, have they?"

"i—i...i'm sure—"

"historia doesn't see you? does she? she says she's your best friend but she treats you like a lackey y/n. isn't that infuriating?"

you scoff, "that's not true." you go to get off his lap but he tightens his hold on you. he just needs to say this.

"is that why she rejected your offer of stargazing? why she always made fun of your outfit choices back in high school? she was always jealous of you, don't you see that? you're better than that, better than all of them." every single one.

he wishes he could see your face but he settles for this, just for this simple touch. "i don't know what you want me to say to that, armin." you breath out.

"i want you to see your worth, y/n. you deserve better than all of this. don't you think so? you deserve the world." he can't help himself as he leans into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

you're not creeped out, or at least you're not attempting to get up anymore. "and what, you can give me that? is that what you're saying?"

he wasn't meant to have this type of conversation right now, it was just supposed to be a nice evening of laying down in this fort. but he saw an opportunity and why not take it?

"you know i can." he answers. "you know i'd do anything for you."

you turn your head slightly, looking at him. "really?" you question. "anything?" you sound intrigued and he swears you're leaning in, it's not his imagination right? you really are.

but before your lips can even brush against each other, historia's screeching voice booms in the living room. "y/n! it's time to get ready."

you quickly get off, almost throwing yourself to the ground as you scoff awkwardly. as if being knocked out of a trance. you don't even spare armin a glance as you crawl out.

get ready for what?

"another party?" armin leans on the doorway frame, watching his sister apply her makeup. "you two went to one just last night—and halloween themed? it's the middle of summer."

"that's what makes it fun!" she smiles, putting the blush down and standing up. she decided to go as a cat. or at least, he thinks it's a cat. drawn on whiskers with an ear headset, a damn tail, short dress with long fishnets.

she looks like a whore. she's been acting like a whore ever since summer started and he realizes maybe that's why you’re acting so different. you live near each other in the dorms and historia must be rubbing off of you.

he tries and keeps his outrage down as historia gets up, walking towards the door. "we'll be back at twelve...hopefully."

"no, you'll be back at twelve." he grits his teeth. "you'll get drunk like an idiot dear sister, and leave y/n all alone at some strangers house. again."

she blushes, offended at the assumption. "you're the one who brought me home last night, why are you blaming it on—"

"would mother appreciate this? you dressed up like a skank and going to a party two nights in a row?"

he shouldn't be saying this. it's not in his character and it's obvious historia is completely staggered at his behavior. "she's barely home and i doubt she cares what i do at night. unlike you, i haven't made it my life to be the perfect—"

"but i care." he's walking towards her before he can stop himself. "i care about the way you're treating y/n. dragging her to parties, getting her drunk so assholes can take advantage then leaving her high and dry. you're a bad influence, dear sister and it's truly annoying seeing you trying to turn her into some gross replica of you. she's not like that, she's not tainted like you. she's pure and i won't let—"

"you're hurting me jackass!" she whimpers and it's only then armin realizes he's seized her wrist, digging his nails into the skin.

he quickly lets go, clearing his throat. "sorry, just stressed from school."

the annoyance is clear in her eyes along with the rage but armin notices something else...a hint of fear? he scared her? fucking great. watch as she goes and rants to mother about her asshole of an older brother resulting in talks he definitely doesn't want to have.

"if you're so worried about y/n, come to the party like you did last night. keep an eye on your precious doll." she scoffs, shoving him away so she can step out the door, rubbing at her wrist.

that's not a total bad idea. it's a perfect way to get closer to you without seeming like a total creep plus he can keep eren and his greedy claws away. he quickly walks towards your door, knocking once before you're opening. his mouth nearly gapes open at the sight of you, how is it always possible for him to be blown away by your beauty every time he sees you? you're dressed in a short white dress, wearing a halo headset with wings.

an angel? fitting. very very fitting.

"you like it?" you grab the ends of the dress, showing it off. he notices you try very hard to not look at him in the eyes. "couldn't decide between a bride or angel. historia wanted me to go as a sexy nurse but i didn't really have—"

"gorgeous. you look gorgeous." it flows out of his tongue so smoothly it has the both of you tensing up.

"really?" you quirk an eyebrow, clearing your throat and finally looking at him. it feels so damn awkward—at least to you but you try to act normal nonetheless. "i expected a swarm of insults, you hate things like that."

"do i think having a halloween themed party in the middle of summer is completely and utterly idiotic? yes. but it doesn't deter from your blinding beauty."

a shy smile gathers on your face, "uh...thanks."

"ready to go? i'm driving.”

your eyes widen, "you? going to a party twice in a row? going to a party at all? are you okay?" your hand is quickly going to touch his forehead before he can comprehend what's going on. his cheeks immediately blaze red, taking a quick step back.

you take your hand away, letting out an uneasy laugh. "it's just a tough armin, not like i was going to stab you or something."

"i know—"

"you say you want our friendship back but you act like this...it's weird." you huff. "you've been acting weird ever since we left for college, no—you've been acting like an ass and i've let it go but this summer means a lot to me. i'm finally having fun for once in my life and i don't need you to come in and confusing me and—and what the hell was that fort—"

"i was just surprised!" he cuts off, tone more urgent than he wants it to be. "i do want us to be friends again!" he deliberately ignores the fort question.

he just wasn't prepared for the feeling of your skin against his in that moment. it’s usually him initiating the touches, not the other way around. he swallows the lump in his throat, quickly taking your hand in his. "i didn't mean to insult you. of course i want your touch, who wouldn't want it? you're—" he stops talking. stop it. stop it. he's babbling. "let's just go."

you nod, smiling again. at least you're not creeped out by his behavior.

the party is boring. it's only been an hour and he's bored out of his damn mind. other than drunk girls coming up to him and asking him what's he's supposed to be even though it's pretty freaking obvious he's not wearing a costume—the random loud shouting as someone starts taking shots is enough to drive him out of his mind.

but at least you're here.

he's made sure to keep an eye on you the second you guys got here. you've mostly been outside on the patio, drinking punch as you dance with some friends. he occasionally touches his lips, thinking of how close they were to yours in that fort. the way you looked at him was filled with...well you definitely didn't look at eren like that last night. speaking of the devil— "eren." he smiles tightly as his friend sits next to him on the sofa. "vampire?" he asks, eyeing his costume.

"is that alcohol?" he looks at the cup in armin's hand. "i need to get drunk immediately."

"it's water."

"water. of course it's water." he chuckles. "what else do i expect from mr goody two shoes?"

armin rolls his eyes, "why are you so desperate to find a way to act like even more of an idiot?" he mutters as if there aren't piles of cups around them, not to mention the cases of beer he's sure are in the fridge.

"nothing." he groans, leaning against the couch. "it's a party. getting drunk is what you're supposed to do."

"hmmm." he hums. "just thought it had to do with something else."

"like what?"

"well...i saw you and y/n the other night, getting it on."

"please never say getting it on ever again." he grins, sitting back up.

he's grinning...as if he didn't just commit a great sin against armin. didn't put his hands on armin's girl, didn't...he grits his teeth. how can he act so careless? as if he had any right to do what he did last night?

"do you like her?"

eren arches an eyebrow, looking at him. "what's it to you?"

"you don't do relationships. you hump and dump and y/n and i are very close. i don't want her becoming one of your victims."

"that's none of your business." he scoffs.

"just answer the question." his eyes bore into the others, clenching the cup in his hand to the point the liquid is overflowing onto his lap but he could care less. "cause if so, that's really pathetic. she always expresses how much of a idiot you are, it's funny really. how she had to be drunk to finally sleep with you."

"she wasn't drunk." he says through gritted teeth. "we were both a little tipsy but not drunk enough to—"

"why are you even doing this with her? she doesn't like you."

"again. it's none of your business." eren deadpans. "what's wrong with you tonight? we're both—"

"you're right." armin sighs, letting out an exaggerated laugh like he's just realized how crazy he sounds. even though he knows he’s acting perfectly sane right now, who wouldn’t be mad if they discovered what armin did? "i'm being weird, i'm just really protective of y/n. she's like family to me, you know that."

eren bites his lip, still a bit tense but nods nonetheless. "i'm not doing anything...like that with her. i genuinely wanna see where things go."

oh.

he's not sure which answer would've been better but he shakes his head okay, licking his now dry lips. "wanna get drunk on the roof? just like we used to?"

"you mean i got drunk and you sat there, silently judging me." eren corrects, anxious atmosphere from before now gone. armin likes that about him. quick to forget and never holds grudges. "but sure, i'll get the beer."

"i have to go pee, see you on the roof." he salutes before eren walks into the kitchen. his eyes instantly travel towards you, feet dragging themselves towards the patio before he can stop.

he just wants to ask if you're okay before he departs, see if you don't need any assistance. you're surrounded by people...but it's people he doesn't trust. he doesn't trust anyone with you. for good reasons. before he can walk further to tap your shoulder, he hears the conversation you're having with abby—he thinks that's her name.

she's been over for sleepovers many times. never really liked armin, that's for sure. he's heard her call him fake at least two times, saying someone can't actually be that nice or perfect. fucking abby. why is she talking to you? he should've gotten rid of her long ago, sabotaged the friendship as soon as he realized her bad influence.

"just ask him out!" he hears her squeal. "literally, what are you waiting for? he's so hot."

something tells him she's not fangirling like this  over armin.

"it's just...it's gonna be awkward!" you sigh, leaning against the wall. see? you can make good choices all by yourself, it's the people around your corrupting you. warping your thoughts until they're no longer your own. "he's armin's best friend and—"

"ugh! who cares about that boring walking encyclopedia!" abby groans heavily. "eren is probably the most popular guy on campus, have you seen those abs? ask him out or i will!" she laughs and armin knows she's not joking.

"he's not...boring." you mutter. "he's actually a pretty cool guy and—"

"you're probably the only one who thinks that." she rolls her eyes.

she interrupted you again. why is she always interrupting you? and why do you never speak up on it?

"ask eren out! c'mon, who cares about what armin thinks? his head is too busy being buried in books to notice anyone else regardless." she shakes your hand frantically.

you squirm, slowly nodding. "maybe. i might. eren doesn't seem to be totally av—"

"gotta go pee." she lets go of your hand. "drank way too much beer."

"want me to go with you?"

you're so nice. why are you so nice?"

"no, it's fine. it'll only take two seconds." she smiles, walking back inside. armin already made himself scarce the second she turned around, watching her walk up the stairs.

he should just go to the roof, talk to eren...but it seems eren isn't the only one standing in the way of his relationship with you. everyone wants to jeopardize it and he's had enough. so he's walking upstairs, not second guessing himself as he makes his way to the bathroom. he's been to this mansion many times before, his mother always having dinner with the owner of it to get into their good graces.

it doesn't take long before he finds it, the hallway is empty and he can hear abby inside. giggling nonsense to herself as she pees. she's drunk. probably wouldn't even remember his face.

he's not sure what he exactly plans to do but the second the door opens, he's immediately shoving her back inside. hands going to rest against her throat and mouth. fuck, he should've thought this through but all he can see right now is blind fury. people keep trying to tear you two apart and it's fucking with his brain. makes him so furious he just wants to punch everything in sight.

abby is screeching, trying to get out of his grip but she's a petite girl. barely weighing a hundred pounds. her back is to his chest and he prays she won't recognize him by the sound of his voice but even if she did...who cares? no one would believe her anyways. so he chuckles, not bothering to mask his voice.

"why do you keep getting in my way abby?" he sighs, applying a bit more pressure to her throat to which she whimpers at. "i don't want to hurt you so let this be a warning, hmm? stay away from y/n. never talk to her again, don't even think about her. that friendship is dead as of tonight? don't you think so?"

she only whimpers louder, trying to free herself so he applies even more pressure. she's now choking, little gasps trying to come out. "you're all trying to ruin her, it's so fucking annoying. just away, okay? it's simple enough, right? i'm going to let go now, don't turn around, don't scream unless you want me to break your windpipe? do you want that, abby?"

he's not sure he even knows how to break a damn windpipe, at least not yet but she doesn't know that. she nods frantically, tears flowing down her cheeks and onto armin's fingers. "great, now run away. all the way home." he lets her go and she doesn't need to be told twice as she bolts out of the room.

well, that was easy. he refrains from laughing as he leans on the doorway. she was all bark and no fight. always insulting armin but suddenly turning into a pathetic, sniveling bitch once he actually does something in retaliation.

he's feeling confident tonight, smiling ear to ear as he walks towards an open bedroom. the balcony door is wide open and he steps out onto it. climbing onto the roof doesn't take much effort, he's been doing it with eren for years.

speaking of eren.

another problem he needs to fix.

getting eren drunk isn't a hard thing to do. it only took a few minutes on the roof before he was slurring his speech. fortunately armin got them both back down on the balcony before the other could gravely injure himself.

injuring his best friend badly isn't on his to do list. at least physically. eren grips his forearm as armin lays him down on a random chair, the summer air causing eren's hair to flow around.

he understands why y/n is so smitten, he guesses. he's a pretty good looking guy. but so is armin. isn't he? he got rid of that haircut he would always get teased for, went to the gym a few nights and developed actual abs, don’t girls love abs...so why him? is it because he's popular? maybe cause he didn't wait eons to make a move like armin is currently doing.

whatever.

soon enough, he's going to be out of the equation.

eren's too inebriated to even realize where he is. this won't be hard, not one bit. "eren." armin sings. "i dare you to punch that railing." he leans against said railing, watching eren's sluggish movements as he stands up.

he's a jock, they love stupid dares. especially when they're drunk. eren scoffs in disbelief, offended armin even had to dare him. like he would've done it regardless. "easy."

"you sure you won't hurt yourself?" at least too badly.

he rolls his eyes and before armin can blink, his knuckles are slamming into the railing. he actually did it. why are jocks so easy? "that was so weak." armin challenges. "lame."

eren punches it again without saying anything, then again and again and armin has to hold him back and push him back on the chair before he's breaking his own bones. he examines his knuckles, bruised and bloodied. just like he wanted them. "h..how was that? cool right?" he slurs, smiling happily to himself.

admin nods, "very cool. now go to sleep." he hums lightly, patting the others head again until he's snuggling into the chair.

armin waits a few minutes until he's sure eren's finally sleeping. he walks towards the wall, letting out a few puffs to brace himself. he's doing all this for you. it'll be fine. he can do it.

he doesn't allow himself to think twice before he's slamming his forehead into the wall. fuck. fuck that hurts. but he can do it. it's for y/n. it's for their relationship. he can do it. so he does it again, and again until blood is dripping down his face.

fucking hell, it hurts.

he winces as he takes out his phone, wiping the blood on the wall with the sleeve of his sweater. he dials your number and you answer on the first ring. so perfect. so damn perfect.

"hey! where'd you disappear to?" your chirpy voice says on the other line.

"y/n." he makes sure to add emphasis on his voice, "c-can you come upstairs to the balcony? second bedroom on your right."

"uh...sure. are you okay?"

he decides to hang up at that, you're coming so there's no reason to continue talking. dots start to form in his eyes, he should've expected that. slamming your head repeatedly onto a wall will do that to someone.

you arrive not twenty seconds later, hurrying up into the room and gasping once you see the sight of him. "oh my gosh!" you rush over, placing a hand on his shoulder as your examine his face. "what ha—" it's then that you notice a sleeping eren in the seat next to you two.

and normally you wouldn't even jump to such a conclusion but with the way eren's knuckle is bruised...armin left little to be assumed. "don't tell me..." you trail off, eyes widening with disbelief as you look between the two of them.

"it's fine." armin breaths out, squinting his eyes shut at the pain. "he—he must've gotten too drunk and—it's fine."

"it's not fine!" you exclaim. "he...oh gosh why would he do that?"

he stands up from the seat he's been leaning against. "he was drunk, he wasn't thinking straight. it's my fault for mentioning mikasa knowing how—"

"mikasa?" your voice is so meek it has him finally looking at you. you look hurt, like a wounded little deer and although it pains him—he's only doing this to help you. you'll see it soon enough.

"yeah, all i did was mention how if he doesn't hurry and man up, she'll be swept away by some other guy on campus. you know how mikasa is, everyone loves her and i guess he got too mad. my fault for messing with true love." he chuckles, trying to lighten to the atmosphere. "sorry, that last part was cheesy but truly i'm—are you okay?"

your bottom lip is sucked in between your teeth anxiously, slight tears forming in your eyes. "f-fine."

"are my injuries really making you cry? wow, didn't know you cared so much."

he tries not to think about the fact you're actually crying over eren. fucking eren.

you let out a forced laugh, "y-yeah." you sniff. "let's get you home. him too."

"is he usually so...violent?" you ask once you two are in the car, driving eren home. "and don't you need stitches for that or something?"

"not usually so violent. i only see him get so worked up when it's something he's truly passionate about."

"...right."

"and for the stitches part? i don't think so." at least he hopes not.

you nod.

"he's my best friend, i'm not sure he didn't mean to do it."

"he still hurt you though, that's messed up." you look at him, frown visible on your face. "your face is too adorable to get a fist punched into it."

"adorable?" he gasps, making a turn. "i'm hot. i'd like to think i stopped being adorable right when i entered college."

you laugh, "yeah. i guess."

"you guess what?" he asks, teasing smile on his face.

you smile, "you're...hot. there? did i boost your ego enough?"

"you have no idea, angel."

you're taken back by the pet-name but then realize it probably has to do with your outfit as you lean back onto the chair, staring at the passing houses.

eren's cozy in his bed a couple minutes later, snuggling into the pillows. "wonder what he's gonna feel when he wakes up knowing he beat the crap out of his best friend." you murmur, watching him on the bed.

"he did not beat the crap out of me!" armin scoffs, defensively. you giggle, "those bruises look pretty serious to me."

"doesn't mean he beat the crap out of me! it's just harmless bruises."

"sure, whatever helps you sleep at night."

he walks closer to you, "he really didn't. unless you haven't noticed, i've grown from that scrawny boy a years back. i can handle a fight."

"yeah, i've noticed but eren goes to the gym like a million times a day—"

"but did eren take a year of marital arts?" he counters.

"the dude is built like a bodybuilder, i doubt he needs marital arts."

"that's where you're wrong, dear y/n. brains win over brawn anytime."

"except for tonight." you say, mischievous glint in your eyes.

he blows air out through his lips in disbelief and it's only when he sees you squint at the movement that he realizes how close they are together. so close that all he needs to do is lean in a few inches and your lips are touching. should he? you're watching him intensely, like you also want to know what his next move is.

do you want him to? he doesn't know. he planned much more experiences to get you to realize he's the one for you. he doesn't want your first kiss with him to be in eren's bedroom, of all places. but maybe a petty part of him does want that. a way of getting back at eren for what he did. for almost taking you away from armin.

your eyes flicker up, staring at him before flicking back down to his lips. it seems you want to make the first move as your lips brush against his and armin has to will himself to not fall down because his knees feel like they're going to give out any second. holy...is this really happening? he's been waiting for this his entire life. for you to finally...fuck, your fingers idly play with the buttons of his shirt before you're deepening the kiss.

he doesn't know why but he pulls away, "why should i kiss you y/n?" he asks, voice teasing yet stern at the same time.

your body heats up from embarrassment, "i—don't you like me? the fort—"

"do i like you?" he could almost scoff at the stupid question. "do you like me?"

you look up at him, stumbling for words to say to that. you look like he's just asked you to commit murder, biting harshly on your bottom lip before breathing out. "y-yes." your voice is so timid. "i've always liked you."

oh?

oh.

"and yet you were under eren like a whore the entire night." he's not sure why he allowed that to come out but he did. you inhale sharply, quickly shaking your head. "n—no. i—"

"what? it's not like you two tried to hide it. with the way you were giggling, the way you were moaning his name."

"you saw that?"

"of course i did. how can i kiss you when you've been with eren? moaning his name, crying for him to go deeper. do you you think you deserve my kiss, y/n?" he keeps his face impassive but he's filled with glee on the inside. at the humiliation on your face, the guilt.

"i-i'm sorry!" you stammer. "i s-slept with him and i...i admit i do like him but it's clear he doesn't feel the same way an—"

"so what? i'm just a second resort?"

"no!" you quickly deny. "i've liked you for so long, armin but you've made it clear you didn't want this friendship to continue. and after this morning...and tonight i don't want to let more years pass by before i confess my feelings a—i'm sorry for what i did with eren—i really...i'm sorry." your eyelashes have tears on them, fingers digging into his shirt as you try not to full on break down.

it's so adorable. you've always been a crybaby. "i probably don't deserve it but...please...please kiss me." your bottom lip trembles.

"well go on, kiss me." he wanted to tease more, have you grovel and beg but how can he? when you're looking so desperate for just one kiss.

have you really? always liked him? has he been so blind to not notice? fucking idiot. so you have always been on the right track, you've always known what you wanted. it's others who stopped you from achieving what you truly wanted. others and armin's stupid decisions.

he allows you to lean in, your nails almost digging into his cheeks as you kiss him. he instantly wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer. you tilt your head to the side to get a better angle, and just as your tongues meet, armin pulls out again which elicits a whimper from you. "what..."

he grabs your jaw harshly, fingertips digging into the sides as he forces you to open your mouth. you look so pretty like this for him. dressed in white with a damn halo over your head as you look at him with that expression on your face. eyes just begging for you to be fucked. he doesn't think as he spits in your mouth and you whimper but don't protest.

he lets go and you swallow without a second thought, eyes focused on him. he can see why eren was so rough that night, you're just asking for it. "you let him fuck you, y/n. let him touch you."

should he even be acting so possessive right now? he should save that for later, when he's wired the fact you belong to him and only him into your brain. but that look in your eyes...it seems you already know. and his cock twitches at the possibility. do you? do you already know who you belong to y/n?

he drags you back until your back bumps against the dresser, his hand grabs your cunt which is practically aching for him already. "you let him touch this. this which belongs to me." he says into your ear and you whimper, clenching his shirt.

"s—sorry, p—lease please i'm so—nngh!" armin pinches your clit, mercilessly digging his fingers into the sensitive bud.

"who does this belong to?"

slick is already forming, coating his fingers. tears gather in your eyes, "y-you."

it's like fireworks went off inside of him, like he's finally seeing the light after years and years of pining. you do know. you know that every inch of you belongs to him, that you weren't made for anyone else. you were made for him. only him.

you shiver as his lips plant soft kisses on your chest, his hand gripping your hip. those hips he's always had too many fantasies about to count. he bites down, wanting everyone to see his marks on you. to see who you belong to. his teeth nip on your chest, jaw, chin, neck—anywhere he can leave marks.

he just wants to make you feel good, so good you forget about all your other past partners. he roughly turns you around so you can see yourself in the mirror behind you, your hands lean on the dresser, a dazed look already in your eyes. "you don't care that he's here?" armin whispers.

you shake your head, "i don't. please armin, fuck me."

you let out a wonderful moan as he pulls your dress up, ripping your panties and throwing them on the ground. he dives a finger inside of your needy cunt, "fuck!" you whimper.

"does it hurt?" he mocks. he doubts it does. not with the way you're trembling with pleasure under his touch. "i'm sorry angel but you don't deserve lube. not after everything you put me through me."

you nod helplessly, not even disagreeing with his words. "i'm so sorry." tears fall down your cheeks, eyes looking back into his through the mirror.

you're so weak for his touch and it's so gratifying. it's all he's ever wanted.  "you're so pretty, so tight just for me." he inserts another finger, curling them until your legs start shaking under your own weight. he holds you up, teeth grazing your neck and peppering kisses on your back.

it's so hot. everything feels so hot as the moans travel out of your lips, the sound of his fingers inside of you followed by your high pitched whining. it's almost too much. eren is right there and although he's not waking up anytime soon, it's just...fuck. it takes another finger before you're spilling onto his hand, guttural moan escaping your lips as you almost fall down.

he smiles in ecstasy, bringing his fingers to his lips and shamelessly licking every single white spot he finds on them. why would he be ashamed? he's been waiting for this his entire life. this is all he could ever ask for. "it tastes just like candy." he grins near your ear.

you shiver, "please...please fuck me."

he doesn't allow himself any more stalling, he's gonna have the rest of your lives together to taste and tease you. right now, all he wants to do is sink into that tight heat. so he does. and you both moan at the feeling. it's so hot, taking it in like armin's cock was always meant to be there. and it was, wasn't it?

"fuck..." he grips your hips, starting to thrust up. the arousal eating him up.

"so—big." you choke out as he starts to fill you up all the way. "feels so good..." you grip his cock so perfectly. everything you do is so perfect.

he starts to thrust harder once you've adjusted, not sparing any time as he pounds into you. the items on the dresser start to shake, moving around but none of you care enough. skin slaps against skin, his fingers clench your hips while yours dig into the dresser. he grins at the way your mouth falls open, tongue lolling around as you're helpless to way he's drilling into you.

you love this. it's so evident on your face. you love the fact it's armin behind you, the fact it's him inside of you right now. you didn't even ask for a condom...fuck how perfect would that be? you filled up with his babies. he could almost cum just at the thought.

but he doesn't. instead he increases his pace, fucking you eagerly. "wanted this for so long. fuck, you're so tight. feels so good. you're so perfect. so so perfect."

you let out a wet sob, whether at his actions or words—he doesn't know but he relishes the sound. "you like that y/n? being pounded into like you're nothing? while the guy you claim to like sleeps not even five feet away? it's pathetic." he chuckles.

and he's not usually so mean. he won't be during your other sexual activities. no he'll treat you like a princess, like the perfect angel you are. but right now, he's angry. and you need to know your place.

"suh—sorry." you cry out. "won't do it again. so sorry." you shake your head, grinding your ass back to meet his thrusts.

you throw your head back, mouth parted and begging for a kiss to which armin gives. your tongues meet, swirling around together as he licks into your perfect mouth. you two moan into each others mouths as armin continues his pace and—fuck he has to almost slap himself for being an idiot and not doing this sooner as he brings his hand around to cup your right breast, clenching it tightly and you moan deliciously at the contact.

he grips it as your tongue goes to lick his teeth, licking anything really. you're so needy. just as needy as him. your moans get even louder and he's thankful eren's parents are out on some business trip cause he's pretty sure the entire neighborhood can hear you right now. "so—ah! so good armin. you make me feel so good." you say, voice airy. "please fill me up, please i want your cum."

he's pretty sure those exact words are the reason for the orgasm that happens not two seconds later. he grips your waist tightly, cock deep inside as he empties everything in you. you practically scream, legs shaking as armin continues to grind into you. making you feel every single inch of him. because it all belongs to you.

"so perfect." he pants, resting his sweaty forehead on your back. "so perfect."

would now be a good time to say he loves you?

you’re avoiding him.

at first he just thought you were just a bit shy considering the circumstances, you two were close friends then went through a period of barely speaking to each other for months only for him to end up fucking you in someone else’s bedroom.

so he gave you time to process all of that but it’s been two weeks...how much more time do you need? the first week he tried to stay calm but now it’s getting too much, the last time he gave you space you two didn’t speak for so long. that was his fault and he won’t make it again, he can’t go through that again. not after finally having a taste of you.

he sighs deeply, digging his fingers under the pillow and taking out the pink lace bra he took out of your drawer the other day. he just misses you too much. it feels like he can’t breath whenever you awkwardly walk out of a room once you see him, how you deliberately ignore his unwavering gaze, how you haven’t said even a single word to him.

it fills him up with anxiety and he needs to find a way to release somehow so he shamelessly acquired this piece of material. it’s not like he’s committed some crime, he just needed to find a way to be near you. to feel you again.

he wishes he could see it on you, maybe he’ll ask you to keep it on next time you two make love again. his hand was under his sweatpants the second he felt himself harden, quickly tugging on his length until he was panting into the pillow. “y/n...” he moans.

he needs you. needs to taste you, touch your soft skin and feel it under his fingertips. needs to hear your moans, see your scrunched up eyebrows and dazed out eyes as he pounds into you...fuck you’d be clawing at his shoulders just like that night. you’d be so tight as sweat drips down both of your bodies.

he grips his cock tighter, toes curled and eyes shut tight as the bra is held to his chest. if only he could live between your legs forever, feeling your tight heat and hearing your pretty little sounds. he’d never want to leave.

you’ve been gone all day, barely been around the last two weeks and he had no idea how much his schedule depended on you being near. even when he was ignoring you, most of the things he did throughout the day consisted of taking care of you. making sure you got to your classes, took your morning jokes safely, how he used to watch you study in the library and so much more. but he didn’t even know where you were now, he had your entire routine memorized back on campus. it definitely isn’t the same now that school was temporarily over.

loneliness was creeping in. he doesn’t know what to do without you. it’s not like he could study to pass the time anymore. fuck. all he needed was one more tug before he was releasing all over his hand.

that was unsatisfactory. it’s not like the real thing. masturbating does nothing anymore once he’s actually been inside of you. he groans, frustration threatening to take him apart as he gets up and walks towards the bathroom. it only takes a few minutes before he’s cleaned up and changed his clothes, ready to go to sleep.

but then he hears something.

rustling outside, right under his window. then he hears your soft voice, uttering something he can’t quite hear. he walks closer to it, thankful he left it slightly open.

what he sees...is definitely not what he expected.

his fingers unconsciously clench the window handle, almost breaking his nails in the process as he watches eren—eren walking down the lawn and into the street.

he was...he was in your room? he didn’t hear the front door open and there’s no other way for eren to have walked in unless he climbed that tree next to the two rooms. why was he in your room?

armin tastes blood in his mouth, biting down on his tongue so harshly that his teeth pierced into it. while he was in here, agonizing over your absence—you were in there with him. doing who knows what.

well, it’s pretty obvious what you were up to as he watches the pep in eren’s steps.

fucking hell.

he thought he fixed that.

are the healing bruises in his face just...fuck why are you with him? he shakes his head, trying to calm down but it’s pointless at this rate. he should’ve done more, he would’ve done more but then you suddenly came onto him that night and he thought he had won. apparently not.

playing nice is pointless. it seems you like men like eren regardless of the crappy actions they do. what’s wrong with you?

he’s walking to your bedroom in the next second, fists clenching and unclenching. what’s wrong with you? he goes to knock but then scoffs bitterly before sharply opening the door, hearing the sound of it smacking against the wall.

you’re on your bed, gasping and eyes widening at the abrupt action and sound. “armin—what—”

you’re just wearing an oversized shirt...that is definitely not his. looks like eren’s old football jersey. fucking hell. what is wrong with you, y/n?

“are you serious?” he breathes out, nails digging into the flesh of his palms. “are you fucking serious?” he takes a step forward and you anxiously scoot back on the bed.

“what are you doing?” you ask like he’s in the wrong. like he’s the one acting like a little confusing, manipulative whore.

“why are you doing this to me, y/n?” he grits out. “why?”

“doing what?” you raise your voice a bit, pursing your lips. the look in your eyes tells him you know exactly what he’s talking about.

“what’s so special about him? please tell me cause i don’t understand. why’d you go back to him even after everything he did? he doesn’t even love you—not like i do, how many times do i have to say no one loves you like i do?” he’s in front of you in a second, hands clenching your shoulders and slightly shaking you.

“y-you’re acting weird, armin.” your bottom lip starts to quiver. “you’re scaring me.”

“i’m scaring you?” he laughs. “not the man who almost beat me to a pulp? but it’s me who scares you?”

“l-like you said—he was drunk so...so he didn’t mean to! he said he apologized—”

“that’s not the point!” he yells, startling you. your eyes are widen to the point they look like they’re going to fall out but he doesn’t care. what’s wrong with you? “he’s brash, rude, inconsiderate. he could care less about you and trust me the second summer is over, he’s ditching your ass for someone else and yet you still pin after him? is that what you like y/n? do you enjoy getting walked over like a damn doormat by everyone? your parents, historia, abby and now eren? what the fuck is wrong with you?”

tears are gathering in your eyes, you bring your hands up to his and push them off of your shoulders. “you’re being mean.”

“i thought you liked that? unless it’s coming from me right? you allow everyone else to treat you like crap then come crawling to me with tears in your damn eyes when you need a safety net.” he seethes. “everyone else can be jackasses, except for me. i always need to be your perfect little armin.”

“what is your problem?” you stand up, facing him. trying to appear strong when you both know it’s all an act. you can barely stand up for yourself without crying. “you’re the one who ignored me for—”

“not this crap again. you’re the one who came onto me that night, saying you’re mine, begging me to fuck you and then you suddenly ignore me and go right back to eren even after everything.” he throws his hands up in the air.

“i like eren.” you exhale shakily, seems like those three words were the only ones you were capable of forming at the moment.

“you said you liked me too, remember? how you always liked me—”

“i was drunk that night, armin.” it’s said so nonchalantly, like it’s the actual truth but he knows better. he was watching you most of the night and you didn’t even go near a cup of alcohol.

fuck, he wants nothing more than to grip and throw you on that bed. fuck into you like the slut you apparently are and hear your soft noises. but it seems—it seems you don’t want that from him. you want that from eren. you want eren to be the big bad wolf and for armin to be your safe sanctuary whenever things get too rough.

he doesn’t want that. he wants to be your everything.

why can’t you allow that?

“so, what? you don’t want me?”

if being rough won’t work then he can try an alternative. it doesn’t matter if it makes him look pathetic, he needs you.

and the pain he’s in right now is excruciating, blurring his vision with tears. “can’t you at least try then y/n?” he walks over, hands suddenly grasping your wrists. the hold was rigid, crushing and even he was surprised at the sheer force of it. like he was trying to break something. “you can try to want me, to love me? can’t you? is it that hard? after everything i’ve done for you, you want to just leave me behind in the dust? everything i’ve done means nothing to you?”

you whimper, shaking your head no. “t—that’s not it. i just—” tears start to trail down your face, tiny sobs filling the room. “it’s not you, it’s me.”

“really? that crap line—”

“it’s the truth!” you exclaim, facing him again. “i...i don’t deserve you, armin. being with people like eren is better because even when i screw up, it won’t matter. b-but if we do get together than i’ll just mess everything up and hurt you and then i’ll lose you and i don’t wanna—i don’t want to lose you. i can’t.” you babble.

he stares at you, shock written all over his face. and disbelief, pure disbelief. that’s what you’re scared of? “the only thing that’s hurting me is you being with eren. it’s fucking kill me, y/n.” he chokes out. “and how many times do i have to tell you that i’ll never leave.”

“you left before.” you say, voice barley above a whisper. “you just left me alone to face everything and then you get mad cause of my choices—”

“i’m sorry, i regret doing that. so, so much.” he cups your cheeks, finally letting go of your wrist and it’s only then does he see the slight bruises his grip left on your wrist. fuck, why do you look so pretty with his marks?

“but that was the last time. i’m never leaving you again. i love you y/n. you’re all i need and i’m all you need, okay?” he leans his forehead against yours, taking in your everything. “okay?”

“but you can’t see the future, what if—”

“no.” he snaps, voice filled with finality. the only way he’s ever going to be apart from you is if the claws of death try to sink their way into him and even then, he’d find a way back to you. he can’t be without you. not anymore. it’s not even an option. “i won’t. i promise. okay?”

you stay silent for a minute, tears still streaming down as you sniff. “okay.” you rest your face in the crook of his neck, gripping the collar of his shirt. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry, please forgive me.” you sob.

that’s exactly what you said that night and you still went and betrayed him. and yes you cleared things up. he knows it was all because of insecure, self sabotaging thoughts that pierced their way into you but what if they come back? what if you do that again? he can’t see you with eren anymore, he won’t be able to control his actions if he does. he backs away, taking your jaw into his hand and staring at you.

“you won’t do that again, will you?” he’s not asking. the tone in his voice makes it clear committing something as atrocious as that isn’t even a possibility anymore.

you nod meekly, doe eyes staring into yours with a hint of fear but this time he doesn’t care. if a bit of fear will keep you from shattering his heart again, then he hopes it sticks forever.

“i won’t.” you smile timidly.

good.

he’s inside of you not ten minutes later, chest covering your back as he fondles your breast. leaving marks anywhere he can. you’re his. and he’ll make sure everyone knows it. teeth sinking into fragile flesh with no mercy and with the way you cry out, you don’t seem to mind.

you’re yelping with every thrust, fingers clenching the sheets and his end goal is take several rounds throughout the night, pound into you until you’re non verbal. barely able to even let out tiny whimpers. he wants you so fucked out that no other cock will fill you up the way he does. and most certainly not eren’s.

he can tell he’s close, quickly flipping you around so you’re straddling him now, hands wrapping around your neck as you cry out. he smirks at the sight in front of him, purple marks covering your body, tear filled eyes and uncontrollable noises of pleasure.

so perfect.

it’s all he’s ever wanted.

he grips your waist, pistons in and out to the point you’re screaming. does historia hear that? hears you scream for him, evidence you’re his now. not theirs anymore. they can’t control you anymore, can’t taint what he loves any longer. armin’s the only one for you.

“oh—oh fuck.” you sniff through the tears, bouncing on top of him. that lace bra snug on your chest. you wore it just for him, just cause he asked.

“do you love me?” he pants, grip tightening.

you nod dumbly, without a second thought. “i do...i love you. i love you so much, armin.”

“good.” he smiles. fucking fantastic.

“you belong to me, right? you don’t need them anymore? right?” he practically begs.

you whimper, staying silent a second too long so he angles this next thrust into your sweet spot

causing you to yelp. “y-yes! i’m yours, i don’t need them.” you confirm.

“you don’t need anyone but me.”

“i don’t need anyone but you.” you whine, leaning your head onto his. “and you don’t need anyone but me, r-right?”

what kind of question is that? of course he doesn’t need anyone else. he’s never needed anyone else. if he could burn the entire world down with you two as the only survivors, he would. he wants you to himself, wants you to only have him. forever and always.

“of course.”

[tomatograter]

What are your Thots on jake’s pq route?

I already wrote some about it in this post where I discuss the problem with taking dirkjake as a literal parallel to tavris (Mainly, that it’s inaccurate to both situations and misrepresents the dynamics at play) but it’s been long enough since release that I feel like I can talk about it without that criticism being taken as a personal witch hunt. TL;DR: As a general rule of thumb I don’t cite Jake’s PQ as part of his characterization, and I think basing your Jakewriting on it will only lead you astray.

I liked a lot of the Pesterquest routes and the alphas were among some of my favorites, but I think when you play the four of them in sequence Jake’s really... stands as the odd one out. It’s almost as if he’s afforded way less sympathy from the get go for some indiscernible reason, or like MSPAR took a day to say ‘I can’t stand this kid in particular’ after dealing with waaaaaaaay more mindboggling troll customs or stupid dangerous situations that tested their patience and their limits. When it comes down to it, it’s mostly an issue of framing.

Let’s go with the “Just the Alpha routes” example, because I think that makes the overall context clearer and the response/reactions it gathered (or the lack thereof) easier to understand. The alpha kids were the last 4 Pesterquest episodes. They were also afforded entire volumes just for themselves, which cemented our expectations on “oh, they’re going to really dig into unexplored territory!” and for the most part, that’s what we got! It was really nice to see the internal mechanics of Jane as someone raised within a corporate echochamber, Roxy as a grieving, isolated kid, deprived of all human contact, and Dirk as a nerdy doomsday prepper haunted by private flashes of himself as a supervillain. It all works! Those are things the alpha kids were dealing with on the background of the broader Homestuck story, things we were only hinted at as the *larger* problems played out. It makes you understand their point of view. Except on Jake's route, where nothing about his life seems to be relevant at all? 

With Jane we get discussions about HIC and her family, with Roxy beautiful passages about a mother they never met and growing up alone— Same for Dirk, who gets a whole brother zapped from an alternate timeline. But on Jake's route there's not even an expansive dialogue path dedicated to Grandma English, Skaianet, the rebellion, or the giant red ship that came and murdered her in the night and then bombed his house, leaving him trapped inside his only surviving tower. No understanding passage realizing that this kid has had to fend for himself in an island full of Actual Giant Alien Monsters trying to eat him alive, or that he cremated his guardian specifically to avoid attracting predators to the scent of fresh blood drying on her mutilated corpse at the age of an actual toddler. The text refuses to dig into any of the psychological implications or impact an environment like this could have on a kid, which is even weirder when you consider MSPAR has met and helped Vriska get out of a similar situation. The whole thing with Jane in the previous volume has just happened, even, while Jake's particularities go unremarked. He was just supposed to deal with it. And that's because a choice was made to portray all of Jake's problems in this route as sort of... single handedly Dirk's fault? Something he should have Just Dealt with?

There's not even a hint that Jake knows Hal exists. Which is important! Jake can pick out Hal from Dirk based on *verbal cues*, and the fact that he considers Hal a barrier between him and his "real friend" getting to communicate with one another is a whole point of contention (and even comedy) in the story proper. Instead of examining Jake's isolation, or grief, or how he literally locks himself in his room and plasters it with cinematic posters to pretend he's just the main lead of a wacky adventure movie in the face of the immense shitshow outside, we get brobot acting nonsensically and threatening to break into Jake's room to beat him up. 

A general reminder on brobot: He was programmed to scout the jungle and deal with predators so Jake could a) Be allowed to safely leave his room (something he simply didn't do before age 13 out of sheer terror, and we know this because dirk and jake talk about it on his birthday conversation, when he first gets brobot) and 

b) Learn how to defend himself in the case of a surprise attack, with different combat settings adjusted to his level. The brobot has a novice mode Jake feels patronized by, but pushes him up levels quickly enough. In Homestuck proper, the brobot only enters "stalking mode" after Hal gets pissy with Jake for finding him out, and forcefully switches the setting on to make Jake work for the Uranium inside it. When you take Hal out of the picture, this plotline makes no sense! Jake's route is set way before the Alphas even think of entering the game, so this particular event hasn't even happened. Jake goes on to text Roxy and she turns the stalking setting off remotely anyways, so even if brobot was programmed to murder Jake in his sleep, or jump him inside the safe zone of his room (he's not) he has literally no reason to be acting like that when he's been set to Baby Buff Up Mode.

(Brobot does end up spontaneously pulling himself apart to give Jake his reward after this)

Which brings me to my other problem with the general framing of this volume; the alpha kids don't feel present in Jake's life as friends at all. It's all "romantic options" and "shipping discourse" and MSPAR making these silly logic jumps to justify insisting on this line of query, and all it does is completely flatten out anything of interest having to do with Jake as a Person, to build up an image of Dirk as being suspicious and shady for his volume and more or less come to the conclusion that Jake sucks because he just Cant Choose Who To Date Between All His Friends! And that's why jake is just like tavros… and dirk is just like vriska! Or something. 

And just as a reminder, here's Jake talking with Roxy so I don't have to explain why that feels like a weird choice to me. (click to zoom)

And then there's the endings. On the vriska ending, MSPAR just ends up weirdly angry at jake for being such a piss baby and not getting that he's tavros and dirk is vriska so he had to… uh… take all his anger out on this 13 year old alien girl he has never met and teach her a lesson to prepare to do the same on dirk, or something. And on the other ending Jake mentions his pen pal, is zapped to meet jade, they have some non-committal greetings and then a cosplay party where Jake insists that he totally likes Lara croft not because she's a femme fatale and he relates to that, because he's never ever in his life thought of anyone being interested on him. Or Something. He likes Lara croft for normal reasons only. He wears really tiny shorts and does sexy poses because he's not aware at all of how other people find him attractive. He's just too dumb to get this, or the shipping thing, or that he's tavros and Dirk is vriska (who the hell are these people?).

Jake feels like an afterthought in the grand scope of events. Sidelined on his own episode. This volume is busy with rehashing age old fandom arguments that have little to do with his character, because said arguments were started and maintained by bored teens engrossed on fighting online instead of analyzing Homestuck; we introduce vriska for no interesting reason at all (thank god at least Jake has enough decency to say he's not into hitting on 13-year-olds, because that would have been particularly rancid.) And aside from catchphrases and old slang sprinkled liberally into his dialogue like a fog making machine, none of the motivation for the character is there. What does he want? What does he fear? Why does he act like the way he does? What would accommodating him look like? What would helping him look like? We get this on Jane's volume, Roxy's volume, and Dirk's volume. To really heart-wrenching and dramatic results, too. You get to know who they are, where they live, what they want, what they fear, what might help them get better, but Jake is just sort of There. He's a burden. MSPAR either ends this volume berating him for not doing what they want or finding him weird and confusing and like they don't know each other at all, and the fact both of those were marked as dubiously bad ends in the game files speaks for itself, I think.

[madswonders]

A Lesson In Romance #10: Thoughts

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Implied anxiety, Mentions of canon-typical violence

Word Count: 2.5k

Plot: Reader keeps getting caught in rom-com situations with Spencer Reid. This time, they're paired together on a case.

A/N: I know that the BAU's conference room has big-ass glass windows but just imagine that the blinds are closed for the entirety of this chapter aha. Also this chapter is a doozy... like 1k words longer than usual, so enjoy!

Masterlist | All chapters here!

---------

As Peter Gizzi once described the phenomena of love, "About you there is nothing I wouldn’t want to know / With you nothing is simple yet nothing is simpler."

In high school, your reputation always preceded you. The cynic that never had a boyfriend, much less a drunken one-night stand; a prude who waited over ten dates to have her first kiss; or the "ice queen" who kept her emotions locked up and threw away the key.

If they saw you now, you wondered if they would laugh at how you've changed; because these days, you looked like you were keeping the best secret in the world, one that threatened to burst from your lips every time you smiled.

What you didn’t know, is that you didn't need to be a profiler to see it. From the bubbling laughter and whispered conversations, to the not-so-secret longing glances. You and Spencer disappeared into your own world when you were together, and everybody knew it.

And for the first few weeks, that was enough. You found it easier than usual to ignore the thoughts that lurked in the back of your mind. That is, until you couldn't.

"... I want you and Spencer to work on the geographic profile." Hotch had announced, and you remembered the feeling of your blood running cold.

There were two reasons for this. First was the fact that this case linked twenty homicides across three years to a single unsub. If there was any case that required the two nerdiest members of the BAU to team up, this was it.

Unfortunately, that fact was closely followed by an overwhelming fear — and you wanted to preface this by saying that you were usually a woman of logic and science — but, somehow, you couldn't shake the thought that something bad was going to happen to you and Spencer, and you weren't ready for it.

Leaning against the cool conference room wall, you tapped your toes in an impatient rhythm against the carpeted floor. You were trying to recite what you learned from your PhD; that your mind was jumping to conclusions and that it was normal to be nervous. It was normal to feel this way. You were normal.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asked, jolting you out of your mantra.

You realised your boyfriend had been talking to you for awhile now, but clearly, you weren't listening. You shook your head apologetically.

"Sorry, I was just thinking. Could you say that again?"

"I was just saying, you can start by pinning the names and locations of the victims, and I'll put up the crime scene photos... but are you sure you're okay?" He asked again, this time shooting you those puppy dog eyes that made you weak.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. Let's get to work." You said firmly, grabbing the box of push pins. You felt his gaze linger on you for a second, before he began picking up his own stack of pictures.

The first hour sped by quickly as you and Spencer listed out all of the unsub’s possible motives and next victims. At the half hour mark, Hotch dropped in to check on your progress, bringing takeaway coffee and leaving with a rare smile.

At the second hour, the rest of the team returned with some new leads, and unfortunately, new bodies, but nothing that helped solidify the profile any further than what you already had.

At the fifth hour, there was no denying it. The team had hit a wall. While the rest of them were back in the field investigating more leads, you sipped on your second cup of coffee while staring at the evidence board. Spencer paced the room behind you.

"The messy dump sites. The carvings onto the victims' chests. One points to the unsub being disorganised and inexperienced, but the other is a clear, almost narcissistic ritual." The doctor thought aloud.

"Usually that means the unsub is trying to make a statement, but he killed his first ten victims before the police found out, then killed another seven and three right under their noses before going dormant. If he wanted to make a statement, why wouldn't he tip off the police or media sooner?" He grumbled.

"Are we sure it's not a taunt to the local police’s competency? Many of his first victims were found in secluded areas with limited police support." You pointed out, tapping the edge of your cup in thought.

"No, the victimology and locations are too wide spread. A taunt would present a clearer message." He said.

You turned around suddenly, causing him to halt in his steps. "Here's something completely off the wall — but what if the unsub was trying to achieve a specific pattern with his kills?" You said, gesturing with your cup.

Tap, tap-tap, tap, you created the rhythm with your finger.

"That would explain why he isn't acting like a narcissist. Maybe he's suffering a mental condition that compels him to complete a certain pattern, and subsequently, ritual with his kills. Could be rhythmical, musical, numerical..." You explained.

"Numerical. That's it!" Spencer squeaked, rushing to the board with a marker. "I thought these numbers seemed familiar earlier, that's because they make up prime numbers!"

He backed away from the board to reveal what he wrote. The numbers 2, 3, 5, 7, and 11. A lightbulb turned on in your head.

"2, 3 and 5 make up the first ten kills. 7 is the next, which he managed to complete perfectly, but something happened to the unsub at 11." Spencer voiced your thoughts.

"He might have been incarcerated, or injured. But we can't rule out the possibility that he might have moved out of town and resumed the pattern elsewhere. So either we can expect 8 more victims here, or the unsub has already moved onto the next number: 13." You quickly finished the train of thought.

"Love, you're a genius!" Spencer rushed over to pick you up by the waist, twirling you as you laughed in relief. But the relief turned to surprise when he kissed you deeply.

God, he was good at this. Even when your feet touched the ground, it felt like you were seeing stars. Though it was only when your lips parted that he had the decency to blush.

"Love?" You breathed.

Spencer's cheeks turned crimson in embarrassment, but he didn't back away. Instead, he leaned forward, bumping your foreheads together gently.

"I didn't know you had that in you, doctor." You teased.

"Well, my mother did school me in classic romance literature from a young age. Not to mention, I happen to be a genius at most things..." You could hear the smile in his voice, and you giggled.

The doctor pulled away then, an adoring smile still plastered across his face. "Are you fee—" He began, but his voice died in his throat as his gaze fixated on something behind you.

"Ooooh, am I interrupting something?" You turned around to see none other than Penelope smiling coyly from the doorway, and the two of you jumped apart.

"N-no, nothing!" Spencer blurted out.

"All fine and dandy here." You added on, blushing furiously.

The tech analyst smiled deviously. "Well, I thought I'd come and check on my two favourite lovebirds. Anything else from the case for me to chew on? Except whatever that was earlier." She teased.

"Actually, there is." You cleared your throat awkwardly, while the good doctor looked like he wanted to melt into the carpet.

"We need you to search up murders in neighbouring cities that match the mutilation by our unsub, then cross-reference the time frame with any new residents. We suspect he might be trying to complete a pattern, and that he may have done it somewhere other than here." You said.

"On it, future-Mrs-Genius. I will get back to you so fast that you won't even have time to get down and dirty." She half-yelled that last bit, heels clicking as she walked back to her office. Before you could even formulate a response, she was gone.

You felt your boyfriend wrap his arms around you from the back. "Now, where were we?" He whispered.

You giggled, leaning back into the doctor's chest while he rocked your bodies side to side. "Are you feeling better now?" He asked.

"Next time someone says it's not as intense in here as it is out there, I'm going to give them a stern talking to." You joked.

"You know what I mean, love." Spencer reiterated gently, the pet name falling from his lips like it was the most natural thing in the world. "If you tell me about it, I can help you. You know I'm always here for you."

You sighed softly, blinking back tears that threatened to spill.

"It's something stupid. I-I'm fine."

He turned you around, brows furrowing in concern when a tear rolled down your cheek. "What's wrong?" He asked, wiping it away tenderly.

"I— I was worried about us working together." You admitted. "And it's not because I don't like working with you, but I just— I just couldn't—"

"Take a deep breath, love. Slowly." He held your shoulders as you breathed in and out, once, twice.

"I've been afraid this whole day — no, for awhile now — that something was going to happen to our relationship." You confessed shakily. "And it's not about our jobs — although I worry about that too — but I'm scared that one day you'll wake up and realise that I'm not worth the trouble."

You looked up at the ceiling, trying to stop the next wave of tears.

"A-and it's only gotten worse because I've never been so h-happy with another person before. Only you've made me feel this way, and I'm t-terrified that I'll lose what we have."

There was a brief silence as Spencer pulled you close to his chest, one hand stroking your hair carefully. You could hear his heart beating fast.

"Do you remember when the team tricked us into sharing a bed?" He whispered, a hint of a smile trickling into his voice. "I think about it every single time we're about to go into the field. Because you said you'd never leave me, and now, whenever we're out there, I know I'm not alone."

He breathed in deeply, your head gently rising and falling together with his chest.

"You've given me someone to come home to, love. What we have, you'll never lose it, okay?" He whispered.

"Baby, I—" Your voice halted. Crap.

"Wait. Baby?" Spencer repeated back to you, a teasing lilt in his voice. Your face flushed, and you unwinded your arms from your boyfriend to cover your face.

"Oh god, can we pretend that didn't just happen?"

"I have an eidetic memory." He pointed out. You let out a watery laugh, knowing when you had lost.

"Alright, alright. But I do have another ide—"

Then, the conference room phone rang. It was Emily. "Hey guys, Garcia managed to narrow down the unsub and we're 10 out, but we'll need some back-up."

"Be there in 15." You replied, while Spencer shot you an amused look, Luckily, he waited for the call to end before saying the next words.

"Let's go, baby." He wiggled his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes and laughed, already strapping on your kevlar. "That's it. You're not driving."

"Aww!"

---------

After the major breakthrough in the case — all thanks to Nerd 1 and Nerd 2, as Derek fondly called the two of you — the case managed to wrap up neatly and the BAU found themselves in a rare position. Ready to end the work day, on time.

Not that anybody was packing up to leave just yet, although you wished they would, because Penelope had decided to start enthusiastically retelling how she found the BAU's resident lovebirds in the conference room, unable to keep their hands off each other.

"Last I heard, pet names aren't a crime — and how long were you standing there anyway?" You accused, blushing.

"Firstly, they are. Criminally cute, that is!" Penelope squealed, while the rest were in fits of laughter. "And secondly, you should never underestimate my awesome ninja abilities, because I heard everything that I needed to hear."

"Do I even want to know?" Spencers winced.

"I don't think you do, pretty boy." Derek laughed, clapping the genius on the back.

"Wait, wait, wait. Can we go back to how Spencer's pet name of choice is love?" Emily gasped in laughter.

"You've got to admit it's kind of cute, Emily." JJ smiled.

"Sure. If you're courting Mr. Darcy and attending cotillions."

"C'mon, Prentiss. All that means is that our boy's got style." Derek added to laughter, while Spencer whined in protest.

The door to Hotch's office opened suddenly, both him and Rossi stepping out with expressions of urgency on their faces.

“Sorry to break up the fun, kiddos. But there's been an update to the case.” Rossi announced, following right behind Hotch to the conference room.

The laughs were wiped off everybody's faces as you traded concerned looks. As you filed into the room, Hotch had already begun speaking.

“Another body was found half an hour ago. Same MO, same random victimology, and same kind of dumpsite. And the unsub just told us where to find his copycat.”

“Wait, we never profiled a second unsub.” Derek interjected.

"It doesn't makes sense — the first unsub is a control freak. He didn't like the idea of anybody messing with his sequence. Wouldn't he have done something if he knew somebody else was copying his pattern?" You asked.

"We profiled that he wouldn't be able to deviate from his pattern. What if he had to continue, even when somebody else was committing some of the crimes for him?" Spencer countered.

“Hold on, you said the unsub gave us a location?” Emily asked.

"And a time." Rossi voiced up. “8pm tonight at The Basil. The first unsub claims that's where the copycat finds his next targets."

"How do we know if we can trust him?" Derek asked.

"We don't. But he didn't display any telltale signs of doubt when he told us, and this is the only lead we have." Hotch's frown deepened. You had a feeling he didn't like the idea of this either, but the team didn't have a choice.

"Okay, if we're doing this, he can't know we're onto him," Emily thought aloud, "and we'll need precautions in case it's a trap. That means..."

"Undercover agents... and the bait." Hotch said with finality.

“And who did you have in mind for that?” You piped up, and everyone turned their eyes to you.

“You and Reid.” He stated the obvious.

“B-b-but, I’ve never gone—"

“You’ve more than proven your abilities in the field since you joined us, and having natural chemistry will make it less suspicious to the unsub.”

You opened your mouth, but no words fell from it. Hotch was right. Of course he was right.

As if hearing your thoughts, Spencer took your hand in his and squeezed, and you felt a little calmer already. “Ok, I’ll do it.” You said determinedly, while the doctor echoed your sentiment.

Hotch nodded, beginning to assign roles to the rest of the team while you squeezed your boyfriend's hand tighter, a new mantra forming in your head.

Everything is going to be okay. Everything will be okay.

----------

Tag List:

@blue-space-porgs @nobutalsoyes @lady-loves-a-lot @queen-flower @agentcarterisgay @totalmess191 @sapphic-prentiss @oops-all-ajs @spottedzebrasinpartyhats @mellowalieneggsknight @kenny-0909 || @averyhotchner @amesandpineapples @willowrose99

[angy-mouse]

Chapter 2: The First Day of Court

I'm keeping 2 chapters ahead in my notes + you guys are one chapter behind from ao3= holy fuck is this taking forever to come out

<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>

“This is positively dull,” you mumbled to Minx, smirking at the muffled chuckle she gave. Your first day of court as Emperor was practically nothing more than idle chatter- assuring the nobles who served on your father’s court that you had no intentions of replacing them, planning responses to the official statements of the other kingdoms on your rise to power, etcetera, etcetera. You thought you might try counting the tiles on the floor in search of some entertainment if you didn’t have to let out the occasional “ah, yes,” or “that will be satisfactory”.

“I believe that concludes that matter,” your advisor declared as he saw you growing tiresome, dismissing the lord before he could prattle on further. Old men, you thought to yourself, simply love to talk circles around themselves.

“Thank you, Sean. What do we have next on the agenda?”

“Lord Arden, Your Majesty.”

You nodded. “Step forward.” You felt your mood sour further as you realized you had to listen to whatever this old cook had to say. He’d tried to get your father to raise taxes only for artisans and trade workers, ban use of the violin after sunset- who knew what his next demand would be.

"Your Majesty," he greeted with a low bow. "I understand of course that you are still settling into your role- your father left some very big shoes to fill after all." He chuckled lightly but faltered as your deadpan gaze didn't change. "Ahem- I believe the top priority should be ensuring an heir."

"Do you now," you hummed, tilting your head at him. "Before revising peace treaties with our allies now that Klantishtin is under a new ruler? What about lifting the trade taxes with Selgia now that we are no longer in war? You think all these should be set aside until the Emperor can get pregnant?"

The lord didn't even have the decency to appear shamed by his foolish notion. "I don't see the need to be so crass," he huffed. "I'm sure all of Klantishtin's allies will feel far more confident with the promise of a prince soon to take the throne."

Ah, you thought, there's the sexist old man's agenda. "If you are dissatisfied with my presence on the throne," you told him evenly, "you should say so without such backhanded excuses."

"No, no, not I, of course, Your Majesty, but perhaps other nations-"

You raised your hand to silence him- and also to keep Minx from drawing her sword on the blundering buffoon. Even Sean looked ready to dismiss the lord in defence of your honor. "Very well," you decided, restraining yourself from laughing outright as you devised a plan that none on the court could complain about without admitting their prejudice. "I agree that the empire deserves to feel secure, should something happen to me."

"Gods forbid it," you heard Sean mutter beneath his breath with his hand over his heart, making you repress a soft smile.

Lord Arden was all too pleased, standing tall like he'd be the heir himself. "I'm so relieved you agree, Your Majesty. Now, of course, my son-"

"Sean," you interrupted, "add to my schedule, please. I'll need to send requests to all the nations we're on friendly terms with for candidates for my harem. We'll have to accept whomever the United Nescren Empire sends, of course, since our nations have been close for so many generations, and Selgia’s candidate to avoid another war-"

“You can’t be serious, Your Majesty!”

You raised an eyebrow. “And why not, Arden? A harem is the most efficient way to ensure an heir, after all. And weren’t you the one who pressured my father whenever possible to establish a harem even though he was perfectly in love with my mother while she was alive and heartbroken when she died?”

“W-Well- but, with all due respect-”

“Your Majesty, if I may.”

You motioned for Duke Crosbin to step forward. “If you feel you have something to settle this, by all means.”

He joined Arden on the floor, bowing to you as low as he could with his aging back before standing tall, one hand behind his back and the other holding the handle of his cane. Always the picture of sophistication, you thought fondly. “I believe if it is truly what you wish for, a harem is a marvelous idea. It’s an easy way to establish friendly relations with several nations and nobles at once- it’s a very smart move, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you,” you said, allowing yourself a small smile but nothing more for fear of showing favoritism. You looked around the court expectantly. “Does anyone else have any input?” You smirked to yourself when no one dared speak up. “Then it’s settled. Now, if there’s nothing else on the agenda I do believe I have some request letters to write up.”

You dismissed the court, Minx and Sean accompanying you to your study to start writing letters. “We’ll send a courtesy letter to every nation, of course, but there’s a few we should accept on principle,” Sean said in a level where he could be muttering to himself or talking to you, making notes as he walked. “Selgia and the United Nescren Empire are musts, of course. Amavia would be a smart choice since they’re such an old kingdom, we could definitely stand to sweeten relations with them.”

You sighed as you relaxed into your big, cushy desk chair, lightly spinning to help yourself think. “...Sean?”

He straightened up from being hunched over his writing. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Are there any laws stating concubines have to be nobles?”

A smile tugged at his lips- you’d always loved your loopholes. “What are you thinking, Your Majesty?”

You shrugged, matching his smile. “It’s a new age, Sean. Money is the people’s true ruler and I think it’d be rather silly of us not to acknowledge this. I can name quite a few companies that are doing well enough to be mutually beneficial. Plus the trade guilds have their own form of a hierarchy. I’m sure more than a few of them wouldn’t mind having a member connected to the Emperor.”

Sean simply chuckled, sharing a look with Minx, who shook her head behind you in a very ‘what will we do with her’ sort of way. “I’ll add them to the list right away, Your Majesty.”

You clapped your hands with a grin. “Wonderful! Now, I do believe I hear a hot bath calling my name,”

[bokettochild]

I just finished reading The Ties that Bind, and I love it! I have a small suggestion, one that you could completely ignore if you would like. Will Fable, Legend’s Zelda, meet Sky? Or Sky and the rest of the chain? I feel like that would be fun. But this is just an idea that I had, I’m not pressuring you do to anything.

I'm sorry it took so long to get to your ask, Anon! I've been thinking about this for a while, and the truth is that, while I would LOVE to have Sky meet all of his daughters at some point, I don't know if it will happen in the main plot of the story itself.

Currently in the story, they are in Legend's Hyrule, so there is a good chance of it happening, I just don't know if it will.

Considering this came along with various fic requests, I did end up writing something where they 'meet' but.. I'm terribly sorry, it's entirely crack, and I took way too many liberties with it.

I hope it will do to hold you over until Fable can make an actual appearance in the story!

“So, we finally get to meet your sister?” Hyrule asked, following as Legend led their group down the halls of Hyrule castle.

“Yes.”

“Yes!” Wind pumped his fists. “The only Zelda we haven’t met! I wonder what she’s like?”

“Kickass.” Legend smirked, stopping before one of the opulent doors and turning to face them. “I’d watch yourselves.”

There were a lot of things the Chain was expecting to see when they walked through the doors, but Warriors wasn’t expecting to see a young woman who looked quite ridiculously like Legend, if not for the haircut, spinning around to see look at them before having a wide smile break over her face.

“Z?”

“Link!” And the princess was running, running forwards with feather soft, tinkling laughter into the arms of...Wild? “Oh, Link! I haven’t seen you in ages! Why, look at you! Growing your hair out I see.” Another giggle drifted into the air as the girl brushed a hand through the Champion’s messy bangs.

Wild flushed slightly, much to the shock of all present, but especially to Legend, who stared between the two with his mouth hanging open.

“Everyone’s missed you so terribly, especially after you disappeared so suddenly! The Master was absolutely furious.” Fable added with a nervous laugh, smacking Wild’s arm lightly. “Thank goodness I can tell him all is well and you didn’t get killed or something, we thought he’d oust Robin for good when we couldn’t find you!”

Wild winced, nodding slightly. “I’m on another quest, but maybe I can send a letter? The mail system is working pretty well, for some reason.”

“Not out of Hyrule unfortunately.” Fable pouted, seemingly taking no interest in noticing the rest of them for the moment, instead continuing to stand in Wild’s personal space, neither having quite let go from their unexpected and rather startling hug. “Without you, the Master has closed all contact with Hyrule; I don’t think he wanted anything else to happen, especially since Mother would have been furious if someone else had gone missing.”

“Wait,” Warriors turned to see Wind staring at the- couple? Duo? “Zelly?”

“Tune!” Fable squeaked, pulling away from Wild and darting over to hug the second smallest hero. “My goodness you’ve grown! Are the two of you on an adventure together then? Wonderful!” Ocean blue eyes trailed up to look at the rest of their gang and Fable brightened even more. “Why, all of you are here!”

“All of us?” He couldn’t keep confusion from his tone as he spoke, quirking a brow.

“Well, nearly all,” Fable frowned, setting Wind down to gently stroke her chin. “And here I hoped to see Young Link again.”

Warriors was going to lose his mind. “Young Link?” His eyes turned to Time, who smiled with a light flush, raising one hand in a nearly shy wave.

“Hey, Zelly.”

The princess gasped, hands flying up to cover her mouth as she stared upwards to meet Time’s gaze. “Young Link? My. Goodness! Look- Oh my! You’re all grown up, aren’t you? I declare, you get even more terrifying than half of the others!”

“Legend,” Sky was grinning as bright and warm as the princess, eyes sparkling in the same manner and erasing any doubt that he was the young woman’s ancestor. “You didn’t tell us your sister was The Princess Zelda!”

Legend stared up at his ancestor in disbelief before shaking off Sky’s hands and throwing up his own. “That’s it,” The vet spun on his heel and turned towards the door. “I’m gonna go bang my head against the wall for an hour, toodles.”

“Well,” Fable turned to Sky with a bright grin. “It is wonderful to see you again, Link. Good heavens, how on earth do all of you handle being ‘Link’, it was bad enough having you all switch out, but now you’re all together at once! How do you handle it?”

“I go by Sky,” The Skyloftian replied with a fond smile. “He’s Wild, Wind, and Time. We use our hero titles.”

“Oh! That is clever! Sheik and I both have different names, so I suppose had it easy, I’m surprised no one thought of that before, what with how you all switched out so often- oh!” And the princess was spinning around to look up at Twi. “We’ve missed you too of course, but I must ask, since you’re all apparently time-traveling or some nonsense, could you give a message to your Zelda for me? I haven’t seen her in ever so long, and I do miss being able to talk over things with her.”

“I’ll pass it along.”

“You too.” She turned to Time, brows furrowing lightly. “Sheif is so terrible about writing to me, and I’ve missed being able to ask for advice with my fighting skills.”

“Understood.” Time grinned, earning a mirror expression from the princess.

How the heck was everyone taking this all in stride? Was Legend’s sister...dating Wild or some shit? How did she know Wind and Time? How did she know Sky? How did she know any of them?

“So,” Twilight cocked a hip and stared down at the princess with a warm smile. “They let you stay around, even after switching out all of us?”

“Yep! I am, apparently, quite the favorite. As is L- I mean Wild.” She sent a warm smile towards said hero, who flushed with pleasure. Ew.

“Should’a known it, he's a good kid.”

“He says you mentored him, so I suppose that can be attributed, in part, to you!”

“Aw, thanks, Zelly.”

Warriors would like a drink now please.

“Wait,” Four stared at the princess, eyes slitted and brows furrowed in a way that revealed he was clearly having a headache as well. “You’re- good grief- you know all of us, don’t you?”

Warriors really needs a drink. Seriously? Four too?

“And who are you?” Fable cocked her head.

Four flushed, ducking his head. “Hero of the Four Sword.”

Like a switch had been flipped, recognition sparked in Fable’s gaze. “Oh! That- that makes sense! I had forgotten, I suppose, how you all- well-” She waved her hand vaguely, and while none of the others seemed to understand it (thank Hylia he wasn’t the only one), Four apparently did. “You don’t think it’s weird?”

“Heavens no!” Fable drew back, looking mildly offended. “Link- my Link- or rather, my brother- Good heavens, what on earth do you all call him?”

“Idiot. Pain in the ass. Veteran.” Warriors listed off, making sure his displeasure with being left out of the conversation was made very clear.

“Legend.” Hyrule answered, shooting a glare Warriors’ way.

“Legend, my, that fits,” Fable shook her head with another tinkling laugh. “Does the same thing, albeit in a different manner and without the use of the Four Sword.”

“Heard that!” Legend shouted from just outside the room. “Stop telling them things!”

“Then come in here and make me, you sissy!”

The vet stormed back in, cheeks red and brow looking considerably more bruised than it had been ten minutes previous. “Not a sissy.”

“Yet you only appear on occasion, and never fight?” The princess snarked, hands on her hips.

“Do I look like I have the time to be fighting?” Legend returned, mirroring her pose with enough attitude to match the blue flames of the princess’s gaze.

“Well, if you have time to play dress up-”

“Necessary for a mission, miss ‘I fight duels in my regalia’.”

“I win duels in my regalia, thank you very much.”

“Heck yeah you do.” And was that- pride in the vet’s voice? “You scare the shit out of all of them.”

“I always was the better of the two of us at doing that, you just spend your time talking to cuckos and wearing my clothes.” The princess smirked.

Legend didn’t even have the decency to flush, crossing his arms with a smirk of his own. “You have to admit, I look better in it than you do.”

“Yes.” Fable beamed. “Yes, you do, and I hate it.” Her smile said the opposite but the conversation seemed to be over at that, the princess turning to continue conversing with the other heroes only to spin around again and clap her hands. “Oh! You're off exploring and adventuring, so you drop a message for me! Tell Peach and Daisy that I’m awful sorry I missed tea last time, we’ve been trying for weeks to get around to it, but with L- Wild having disappeared, the Master simply won’t give me the free time and Mother’s been just as strict.”

Legend pouted. “Only if they’re the only ones home, if I have to see that insufferable plumber’s face again I think I might just punch him.”

“Please do.” Fable spat. “He used that stupid hat of his to mind control me and make me kick the crap out of my team.”

“He mind controlled my sister?” Legend hissed.

“Yes, that dumb hat of his is sentient now, and he can force us to do things.”

“I hate that thing.” Wild scowled.

“Same.” Several others echoed.

Sky looked between them all. “Are we talking about Mario? Because if so, Legend, I will totally join you in punching him in the face, that guy is a pain!”

“Oh, him!” Hyrule scowled. “I don’t like him; he grates on my nerves like nobody's business.”

“He’s worse than Tingle.” Wind added, face screwed up in distain.

“Seconded.” Twilight and Time called out together.

“Third, Fourth, Fifth and sixthed.” Four added.

“Just because your name is ‘Four’ doesn’t mean you get four votes.” Warriors groaned, staring at his companions in irritation. “And who the heck are you all talking about? How do all of you know him? Is he immortal?”

“Hylia, I hope not.” Nine voices groaned at once.

“Neighboring kingdom.” Legend replied. “The Mushroom kingdom’s own hero is an idiot plumber by the name of Mario. His twin isn’t bad, but he’s a piece of work. I’ve had to deal with outbreaks of monsters from their kingdom on multiple occasions because he can’t keep them contained. Add in there that their princess is captured every other Tuesday because the guy can’t up and beat her kidnapper for good, and the kingdoms a mess.” Legend paused, frowning. “Wait, I just agreed to go there, didn’t I?”

“Yep.” Fable chirped. “But don’t worry, Bowser is hanging out with his kids this weekend, so he shouldn’t be causing problems while you’re all here.”

Warriors groaned, this time, loud enough that all of them heard him. “Bowser? Are you on a familiar enough standing with some villain that he tells you his weekend plans?”

“Yes.” The twin siblings answered, Fable bright and cherry while Legend deadpanned.

“We even play sports with him on occasion.” Fable added.

“And who,” Warriors tacked on, absolutely done and uncaring for the fact that apparently Legend and Fable played golf or something with their neighboring kingdoms greatest threat. “The heck! Is Mario?”

Nine pairs of eyes stared back at him for a moment, blinking in confusion.

“You know,” Twilight stated slowly. “Has anyone actually ever seen Wars at an event?”

“Come to think of it,” Fable tapped her chin. “You are the only one I’ve never seen before.”

“The only one?” Can Warriors please get a drink?

“I’ve met all of the others, be it in racing, sports, fighting matches, any number of things, but I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you, much less heard of you. Who are you?”

“That,” Legend smirked. “Is the Hero of Warriors. And I don’t know if I should laugh or feel bad that he was never popular enough to get selected for the games.”

“You weren’t either.” Wind hissed.

“Mom said I was on bed rest from being struck by lightning.” Legend waved him off. “I’ve had my time in the Mushroom kingdom, and if they ever do invite me back, I’d burn that Smash invite so fast the Master would think it never arrived.”

That’s it. He’s done. “Legend, I’m stealing your thunder-”

“Please do.”

“I’m going to go bang my head against the wall until the world makes sense again, or until I black out, Bye.” And with that, Warriors left.

(This entire fic was inspired by @tortilla-of-courage, her blog had a stint of asks about the boys knowing each other from Mario Kart and whatnot and it set my brain spinning. I blame her that this was the only thing I could think of when trying to write Sky meeting Fable. Thank's Tortilla!)