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spitdrunken · 3 months

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i keep thinking about essentially being like. velvette's 'charity case' model and how your relationship develops from there.

notes: fem!reader, velvette calls you ugly LMAO, beyond that... no warnings, really. surprisingly the most healthy vee relationship ive written yet!

velvette's typical models all look similar, reminiscent of the modeling industry back when you were alive. tall, skinny and, more important than anything else, human-looking. most of them could pass for humans in a costume.

you… do not. you just didn't get quite that lucky with your demon form! really, you can say that the vast majority of people drew the short end of the stick, at least by the kind of standards that people like velvette set. maybe you're a bat, with a snout you've deemed as pig-like taking up most of your face. or a sheep, your single-slitted, dead eyes making even you uncomfortable. perhaps you're more formed after an object than what you would consider a person, or plant-like in nature! in any regards, due to the way lucifer chose to have you reborn you firmly do not fall within hell's beauty standards.

all of that means you were absolutely not expecting to be accepted when you went ahead and applied to a job with someone as famous and perfectionistic as velvette. it had started as a joke, really. you'd posted a purposefully horrible picture of yourself on vitter, with a stupid caption like; "do u think that :skull::heart: would kill me for submitting to open casting looking like this lmaooooo" (you have to use emojis to talk about the vees, as the socials owned by them are notorious for taking anything remotely negative down.)

and unexpectedly, your post randomly did some pretty big numbers, with people egging you on and some practically begging to tell you what kind of insults she would sling at your head. you saw some people copying your original as well.

so you're like! whatever!!! you don't think that you'd even get through the application process, much less velvette herself. nothing will end up happening, so, who cares? but then, somehow, despite everyone and their mom wanting to model for velvette, you get… through? and you even get an interview scheduled with velvette herself?

she takes one look at you as you walk in, and just goes: oh my god. this really is grim. and you're hardly seated, before she continues. look, i don't have the time for niceties, and introductions are entirely unnecessary. i'm sure you already know this, but you're not here because of your looks.

yeah. you figured that. …i guessed so. but i'm still sitting here. so, why?

instead of getting a real answer, you're shuffled off into a shoot, different outfits flashing on top of your body, faster than you blink, velvette's face settled into a scowl, till it suddenly lights up. it doesn't go… super well, you've never really done this and, if you had, velvette's attitude surely wouldn't help. you never really get clarity as to why you're being hired, when a contract is shoved in front of you.

(the reality of the situation is that velvette had seen you trending, not trending-trending, but still a noticable. she realised the demand for someone like you, a 'relatable' every-demon being thrust into this new world, and documenting it online. her company can claim they accept 'all kinds of demons', and some poor suckers will feel less excluded when looking at her fashion, buying it more quickly. win-win-win!)

she tells you to you're face that you're the ultimate challenge. if she can fix someone like you up to in a half-decent model, it just shows that she really is a fucking goddess. maybe you're not as pretty or as used to everything as the rest of the models, but that doesn't mean you don't put in any effort now that you're there. the other girls won't associate with you whatsoever, but you do listen in on their conversations, pretending to mess around on your phone, coming to know the kind of make-up velvette likes. you tirelessly browse online, mostly on vikvok and vitter, figuring out the current trends. and after a while, velvette takes a look at an outfit you picked, and actually says…

this is pretty decent. it won't look good on you, but i can use this. maybe, somewhere along the way, you become more of an assistant or outfit suggestor for velvette, only occasionally stopping in for shoots. velvette never accepted anyone in a similar position to you, even though vox tried her to get an assistant for ages, and she wouldn't have accepted you either if you'd obviously being vying for the position. but you weren't, and your position just kind of naturally developed that way.

your shtick as a 'charity case' has somewhat been abandoned, though velvette still dumps clothes in your arms sometimes and tells you to try them on. maybe you're one of the few people who gets her to laugh, and the only one who she freely bitches to about all of her models. (she does this to vox and valentino too, but it's not the same. they don't care as much, nor do they really know who she's talking about.) she lets you sort through some of the open casting applications and help pick out the theme for a shoot.

of course, absolutely everything you do has to go through velvette first, and she still criticizes you aplenty, but you can't help but feel she has grown… fond of you, in a sense? sometimes, you swear you see her wearing outfits you'd picked out for another model… and while she shittalks everything that moves, you just happened to listen in on her giving a model a tonguelashing for talking bad about you. either way, you've certainly come to like her a lot more. you're now even mutuals on vitter and vikvok! much to the delight of the tiny following you'd grown on there. she even posted a picture of the two of you on there! …that means you've really made it.

maybe at some point, when her company has hit a new milestone and, in a rare slip-up (or perhaps valentino gave her a super strong drink on purpose, thinking its funny) she gets pretty drunk. you end up sitting opposite of each other in a bar, with her having decided on the spot to put some make-up on you, leaning in close to check her work, fingers gliding slowly over your skin. a situation that feels entirely too intimate for this setting, not helped by the half-lidded look in your eyes. …i have changed my mind. she mumbles, slurring her words are little. you can look pretty, after all.

you sputter out a oh really, and you only realised that now?! in order to break the heaviness of the air, the unspoken tension that makes your heart skip a beat, and velvette laughs.

(maybe there's hope for the two of you yet.)

#hazbin hotel x reader #velvette x reader #hazbin hotel velvette x reader #hazbin hotel #velvette #cha.velvette

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judeswhore · 1 year

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i wanna kiss your lips; mason mount

summary: your past relationships have been anything but giving and mason just has to change that

pairing: best friend!mason mount x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, oral (f) receiving

notes: you can find my masterlist here. uhm surprise? this was a half finished piece in my drafts and i thought teehee maybe i’ll post so here she is

“you’ve never had an orgasm?” mason’s tone was one of complete disbelief, the look in his eyes a perfect match. he gazed at you from the other end of the sofa, the movie playing on his tv long since forgotten.

“well, i have by myself, but not with anyone else.”

“never?”

“nope.”

“not even josh?” you snorted at this, gazed into the bowl of popcorn on your lap in search of a piece that looked extra sweet. mason was watching you with furrowed brows, his body turned to face yours, one arm against the back of the sofa. there was a pillow in his lap and he picked at a loose piece of thread.

“especially not josh.” you shrugged like it was nothing, curling your feet up under yourself as you matched his position. you stared at him head on, even as you spoke the next few words. “most guys only care about getting themselves off, half the time they can’t even tell if you’ve finished or not. they fuck you and take what they want and that’s it, sometimes it’s too much effort and to them where’s the fun in that?”

“too much effort?” mason was perplexed. too much effort is not a phrase he would use in regards to making his girl cum, in fact that was the best part, the fun part. drawing it out as long as possible, edging them with your fingers and tongue until they’re begging and falling apart from one simple touch. to him, sex is boring if the foreplay isn’t drawn out and full of teasing.

“it takes a while for me. i can’t-“ you shrugged again, heat blossoming over your skin because why were you talking about this with mason? the boy who’d put worms in your sandwiches when you were little? your friendship was open and carefree and yeah you’d often discussed your sex lives but this felt like a step too far. but you’d already started now, what would be the point in stopping. “i can’t just cum in two minutes. it takes more than just a couple fingers or whatever and the guys i’ve been with found that tiring. who wants to be with a girl who’s wound so tight it takes her forever to cum? they usually try for a few minutes, get bored and sometimes a little annoyed so i fake it, we fuck, they leave. i’ve learnt to take care of myself once they’re gone.”

you weren’t entirely sure how you’d gotten on to that topic, you’d been talking about your ex being back in town and one thing led to another until you were confessing your deepest, darkest secrets. well, it wasn’t exactly deep or dark but it was definitely a secret. twenty three years old and you were yet to find a man who could make you finish, over dramatic moans and fake orgasms had long since become your closest friend. it was this confession, and your best friends need to be good at everything, that had landed you in a pretty surprising position.

naked in his bed.

“y’can tell me if you wanna stop, okay?” mason was settled between your legs, his mouth hot on the inside of your thigh and all you could do was nod. you swallowed thickly, hands pressed into the soft cotton of his bedsheets because you didn’t know where else to put them. mason’s hair looked inviting but you were nervous, afraid you’d pull too hard, worried he might not like having the soft strands yanked. that on top of you usual anxieties over not being able to cum had your heart pounding in your chest. your best friend was no idiot and he could sense your inner turmoil from a mile away.

he propped himself up on his elbows and kissed your knee.

“tell me this is okay. if it’s not we can stop, pretend it never happened.”

“no,” you shook your head rather aggressively. mason hadn’t even touched you yet and you were soaked, wound up simply by thinking about what he was going to do to you. not a single part of you wanted him to stop. “this is okay.”

“yeah? you’re sure?”

“positive.” he blew out a soft breath, a half laugh, that hit your pussy, made you clench around nothing. you might find it difficult coming at the hands of someone else but you were always extra sensitive. the fact that this was mason was somehow intensifying that.

“good because i really wanna eat you out.” you had no reply for that but he didn’t seem to mind, he was kissing your thigh again, trailing his mouth to that hot spot between your legs but never actually touching you. he switched to your other thigh, nipped and sucked until you were shifting impatiently, subtly lifting your hips closer to his mouth.

“mason.”

“shh, m’taking my time. this is what you deserve.” he pressed a hand to your stomach to hold you down, his other hand hooking under your knee, pushing outward to open you up for him. you were completely on show to him, every inch of you and despite that initial anxiety, a larger part of you felt like this was meant to be. there was no one who made you feel safer than mason.

he kissed your hip, nuzzled his nose against the soft skin of your thigh before his mouth hovered over your pussy. his gaze flicked up to yours, a gentle smile curving his lips.

“you’re so beautiful, baby.” it took everything in you not to buck towards his mouth, your fingers twisting into the sheets. his smile turned dirty in an instant. “got the prettiest pussy, gonna treat her right, yeah? gonna show you how good it feels.” you could only nod, tummy twisting at his words. dirty talk always got you off, pushed you closer to that edge but again, some guys just don’t do it right. you could already tell this wasn’t going to be a problem with mason.

the second his tongue touched you a shaky breath blew past your lips, your eyes falling closed. he licked a single broad stripe from your leaking hole to your clit, tongue flat to cover as much of you as possible. he repeated the motion, humming at the taste of you, cleaning up the wetness that had gathered just from his proposition. the kiss he pressed to your clit had your thighs tensing beneath his hands.

“taste so good, sweetheart.” he teased the tip of his tongue against your hole, dipped inside just slightly before he was licking through your folds again. at your clit he stopped, pointed his tongue and repeatedly flicked over the swollen bud, grinning at the high pitched whine it pulled from you. “yeah? like that?”

“yeah, i-“

“shh, it’s okay, just relax for me.” mason’s hand smoothed over your thigh, pressed you open a little more and went back to flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit. pleasure was curling low at the base of your spine, the very first sparks of fire. this was usually as far as it would get, your orgasm would build halfway before fizzling out of reach.

his lips closed around your clit, sucked softly until your hips were lifting off the bed, bucking towards his mouth and he was chuckling low in the back of his throat. the sound vibrated through you, made you half choke on a whimper, your fingers pulling at the sheets. he pulled back and kissed the skin around your pussy, ignored the parts which were begging for him. his hand was suddenly reaching for yours, fingers soft around your wrist as he pried yours from the sheets and guided them to his head. he pushed until your fingers threaded through the soft strands of hair.

“want you to tug on my hair, not my sheets.” you couldn’t reply because he was buried back between your thighs, tongue running through your folds, licking at your clit, pressing just slightly inside you before retreating again. he kept the pressure on your clit light, just bordering on teasing and it was driving you insane, the steady build up of pleasure growing heavier.

with your hands in his hair you pushed, urged him to increase the pressure. he caught on almost immediately, swirled his tongue around it before flicking back and forth, your mouth dropping open on a quiet moan. that moan turned into a soft yelp when his teeth grazed your clit. it was a foreign feeling but one that had you gushing with even more arousal.

“don’t hold back, i want you to be loud. want my neighbours to know how good i’m giving it to you.” you made some unintelligible sound, tugging a little at his hair in acknowledgment and mason sucked your clit in reply. he suctioned it into his mouth with a deep groan and your orgasm creeped a little bit closer. at this point, your past partners would have given up, would have huffed in annoyance until you faked your orgasm and they could fuck you.

mason, however, had lost no momentum and was showing no signs of letting up, his attention to your pussy and your reactions to his mouth keeping him going. he’d caught on that you liked teasing just a little, that you liked when he worked you to a point with the tip of his tongue before flattening it and letting it fizzle out. that was what drew out your orgasm, time and teasing. you were a wet mess, dripping down on to his sheets, stickying your thighs and the lower half of his face and you whined loudly when he pressed his tongue into your hole.

his nose bumped your clit repeatedly from the position, your pussy clenching with need and you couldn’t help the harsh yank to his hair.

“oh my god, fuck. don’t-don’t stop.” your head tipped back, a string of moans and curses falling past your lips as mason continued fucking you with his tongue. each time his nose rubbed over your clit a desperate whimper fell from you, your grip on his hair tight enough that it bordered on painful. he pulled back, gave one large lick up your pussy before meeting your gaze.

“tell me what you need.” you blinked at him, trying to clear the fog in your head. you were already so close, a feeling you’d never felt with anyone else bubbling in your tummy but even you knew you still needed a little bit more. true, you could probably cum from mason’s tongue alone if he kept going, but you wanted just that little bit more. you brushed his hair back with your fingers, focused your gaze on his mouth, lips plump and glistening and there was an overwhelming need to kiss him.

you were aware the two of you had crossed a line in your friendship, had done something you couldn’t come back from. but this was sex. unfeeling, detached, a transaction of sorts. mason can prove you can cum with other people, you get an orgasm when you’d only been expecting a movie and popcorn tonight. but kissing was different. kissing meant something to you and you couldn’t kiss him and move on. something at the back of your mind suggested you weren’t going to be able to move on from this, but that was for future you to worry about. right now you just wanted to cum.

“fingers, i want your fingers.” it was breathless, your voice broken and scratchy from your keening moans and whines. mason cocked his head, grinning slowly as he bent his head and kissed just above your clit.

“yeah? want me to fuck you open with them? bet i can have you coming in minutes, baby.” he shifted between your legs and brought his hand up, middle and pointer finger settling in front of your mouth. his grin turned into a smirk, eyes sparkling with heated lust. “be a good girl and get them nice and wet for me.” you were quick to do as you were told, lips wrapping around his fingers, tongue swirling around them until they were coated in saliva. you let them go with a dramatic pop, not once breaking eye contact, even as mason settled back between your thighs.

your legs had closed slightly and he nudged them back open with a chastising nip to the soft skin. the tips of his fingers teased your hole, circled it for a second as his gaze locked on your pussy.

“you’re making a mess of my sheets.” there was nothing to say to that and so you simply let your head fall back on to the pillow, eyes closing again when he pressed both fingers into you. he moved slowly, let your walls relax around him before he hooked them up and slowly retreated. “god, you’re so fucking tight, don’t even think my cock would fit.” it was a throwaway comment, actual sex wasn’t on the table but his words still made you clench, the thought of him burying himself inside you pulling a high pitched whine from your throat.

“make me cum, please. i wanna cum.”

“i know, sweetheart, i’m gonna, just enjoy it.” he started fucking you slowly, fingers pressing against all of your sensitive parts, hitting deeper than yours ever could. the thumb on his other hand had found your clit and was rubbing tight circles over it, the trembles in your thighs an indication to you both that you were hurtling towards the edge. the wet sounds of your pussy and mason’s low praises broke through your constant string of moans and whimpers. “that’s it. taking it so good, babe, look at you. pussy’s just begging me to fuck her, you’re squeezing me so tight.”

his tongue was on your clit again, flicking over it to match the pace and rhythm of his fingers and each time they hooked inside of you, you tipped a little bit closer. your clit was swollen and throbbing beneath his tongue, the feeling intensifying when he sucked it between his lips. he hummed against, thrust his fingers in a little harder, stretching you open to a point you wished it was his cock filling you up.

“such a pretty girl, you gonna cum for me? come on, i wanna feel it.” fingers in his hair, you pulled a little harder, legs starting to shake and your orgasm was only inches out of reach. the pads of his fingers repeatedly bullied into that sensitive spot deep inside of you, the feeling so intense tears had gathered on your lash line as your mouth dropped open, moans and whimpers of mason’s name filling the air.

“m’so close, mase, it feels so good.”

“mhm, being such a good girl, fuck i wish i could stay here all night.” you whined, back arching off the bed and his free hand had to press you back down, applying the slightest bit of pressure to your lower tummy. he could tell how close you were, knew your orgasm was just dangling out of reach and he took a chance as he pulled his lips from you clit. “play with your tits for me, babe.”

half delirious you did as told, one hand still tugging at mason’s hair but the other moved up to cup your boob, squeezing and massaging the way you did when you were alone. praises filtered up from between your legs and then he was back to tonguing your clit, his fingers fucking you a little harder. you pinched your nipple and mason crooked his fingers and your orgasm hit you like a wave.

a high pitched moan, one that definitely sounded like a cry, fell from your lips as your back lifted off the mattress, fingers tangled so tight in mason’s hair it was a miracle you hadn’t pulled any out. your pussy clenched so tight around his fingers, slick walls hugging them back in each time he pulled them out, working you through the most intense orgasm of your life. mason kept muttering praises the whole time, telling you how good you did, how pretty you were, how badly he wants to fuck you until you cry.

it takes a few moments, a couple slow pumps of his fingers and ever slower laps of his tongue before the waves of pleasure die down and the roaring in your ears subsides. you’d gushed around his fingers, made a mess of him and the bed but he didn’t seem to mind, eagerly cleaning you up with broad licks when he finally pulled his fingers free. you were too sensitive, clit pulsing and with a shake of your head you pushed at mason’s forehead, whimpering quietly when he pressed a final kiss to the little bud.

he sat back on his knees, watched you through hooded eyes as he sucked his fingers into his mouth, licked them clean of your cum while you watched with a heaving chest. your body was on fire, pussy sensitive but somehow feeling empty now and it was difficult to miss the bulge in mason’s joggers. he drew his fingers from his lips and flopped down beside you, his shoulder warm against your bare skin.

“so, how was that for a first orgasm?”

#mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount smut #mason mount blurb #mason mount fluff #mason mount fic #mason mount one shot

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cryptocism · 2 months

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Since I think about clones like I’m getting paid for it, I've been rotating those alternate universe "what if Bart and Thad were actually raised together" scenarios in my brain, with Thad either post-redemption-arc or pre-villainy. Because adjusting Thad's character to fit an ally role while still keeping true to his core motives and personality is so so fascinating to me.

Like I think there's an immediate first instinct to slot Thad into a "bad" twin category: ie rebellious and prickly, doesn't get along with people, mean lil shit. And obviously it's not wrong bc we're outside the realm of canon, but the reading still feels a little left of center.

Because Thad is mean and prickly in canon. In the Impulse comics he belittles Bart and Bart’s friends/family constantly in his appearances. He loves to goad, and monologue about his own superiority and intelligence. He’s very Not Nice, and he causes many problems, and he even does it on purpose.

But, I think it’s important to consider the context. From the jump Thad knows very little about anything except which team he’s on and who he’s playing for. He gets his orders from an unseen authority and he carries out his tasks because success means his team wins.

For all his self-aggrandizing talk, everything he does is in service of an end goal that doesn't actually center him. He's trying to get revenge for grievances he's never personally suffered, retribution for actions never committed against him. Everything he does is on someone else's behalf.

Thad sees in black and white, us or them. Up until the final few issues of Mercury Falling, Bart and co. are Thad's enemies, of course he's not going to be nice.

So Thad's motivation seems pretty simple: Thawne Supremacy™.

But it’s in Mercury Falling where this starts to fall apart, and the real core of his motivation gets revealed. Thad pretends to be Bart and suddenly Helen is nice to him. Bart’s friends think he’s funny. Bart’s teachers are impressed with his grades. Max ruffles his hair and gives him hugs and tells him he’s done a good job.

If he was actually an inherently mean and standoffish character, if Thad actually had significant personal stake in the Thawne VS Allen conflict, the weight of such tiny acts of kindness wouldn’t completely break him the way that it does in canon.

Thad thinks his goal is superiority and revenge and Thawne Supremacy™, but he's chasing validation. Thad doesn’t have a personal stake in the Thawne VS Allen conflict. He wouldn't get much satisfaction if he actually destroyed Bart and his family. Thad's personal victory would be the recognition after the fact: the praise and attention from the other Thawnes (a group of people he has literally never met) for his success.

He wants validation. That's basically it. And the fact that he gets it so easily from Bart's family and friends doesn't align with how he's told himself things are supposed to work.

Actually tangentially, Bart and Thad’s respective relationships to authority is so diametrically opposed and tbh kind of subversive in a superhero narrative. Where the hero is the one carving his own path without regard to social or societal rules, no fucks to give what anybody thinks of it. And the villain is a chronic people-pleaser.

Just based on Thad’s reaction to simple praise and affection from Max I really think Thad’s motivation has more to do with the response he gets than whatever the details are of any given task. He has no actual personal convictions beyond getting positive attention, and whatever he did have crumbled as soon as Bart’s friends laughed at his joke one time. Which of course leads into the core of his whole conflict at the end of Mercury Falling. He cares too much about Bart’s friends and family now, he doesn’t want to kill them, but worse than that, he’s faced with the sudden realization that he’s on the wrong side.

The Allens gave Thad everything he actually wanted and needed, but his conception of himself is inexorably tied to the Thawnes: who gave him jack shit. These two facts are in opposition to each other, and he can’t reconcile the reality of it.

Anyway all this to say, in an AU where Bart and Thad are raised together or Thad gets an actual redemption arc etc etc, I think my personal take on Thad’s personality whether it be pre-or-post-villainy would be one that is extremely socially conscious. He is much more of a people-person than Bart. Whether he's actually accurate in assessing people's feelings and how to respond to them can be hit or miss, but he wants to behave in a way that gets people to like him.

Pretending to be Bart isn’t remarked upon as, like, a difficult task for Thad. In his internal monologue he’s literally bragging to himself about how easy it is. But what’s especially notable to me is where his act differs from Bart's typical MO. Everyone notices, and lots of people comment, and presumably if Thad didn’t have the excuse of Max’s illness to “motivate” Bart to do better he would’ve been found out immediately. And those things are, specifically: paying attention in class, doing his chores, staying on task, and being helpful around the house. The one thing about Bart he chooses not to emulate is Bart’s rebelliousness.

Thad wants to prove himself, constantly, to whatever authority he respects (probably Max in this scenario) and will do whatever it takes to make that happen. In contrast to Bart, who only listens to authority when the shit they're saying actually makes sense to him. It’s excessively difficult to convince him to go against his own interests. (And I think a key part of that is Bart’s security in knowing that no matter how much he fucks up or doesn’t listen, the people he loves will always love him back.)

Thad’s got the people-pleaser in him that has to deserve whatever he’s given. It’s why he’s happiest when he’s given a clear goal or objective to complete, because it gives him an opening to prove himself.

All this to say that if we are quantifying Bart and Thad as a "good" or "bad" twin, in the eyes of every authority: Bart is the bad twin. Bart is the bad twin, Bart is the bad twin. Bart is the one who doesn’t care about school and whose grades vary wildly depending on his personal interest. He’s the one who goes off to do dangerous shit for fun and gets in trouble constantly and doesn’t do his chores and is thoroughly unconvinced by any authority figure trying to sell him bullshit.

Thad is the one who needs to know all the rules just so he can experience the joy of following them. Relentlessly obedient. He'll put all his effort into doing all the right things that’ll endear him to whoever he wants to impress - meaning he’s the asshole who reminds the teacher about the assigned homework. Bart might be the most popular boy in school, but Thad is a pleasure to have in class.

Like Thad can (and should) still be high-strung and short-tempered and sarcastic and edgy and mean, because he is. But he can’t be doing all that without rhyme or reason. Colouring every interaction has to be that one-zero binary of ally or enemy. He needs to have somebody he’s proving himself to: a team he’s on and a team he’s against. He’s not an inherently rebellious character. He can go up against The Enemy, whoever he deems as such, but it has to be in service of a hypothetical future in which somebody eventually tells him he did a great job.

And in the interest of continuing to beat a dead horse, it connects to their respective upbringings. Thad and Bart were both raised in VR, but Bart’s experience had the side effect of basically hard-wiring him against insecurity. His world was a playground tailor-made for him, and he was never made to feel bad or insufficient about any aspect of himself. His first interaction with a real human person was Iris moving heaven and earth to save him, without him knowing her, without her knowing him, with no reasoning for the act needed beyond Being Her Grandson. Which is probably a significant factor in why Bart moves through the world with frankly atomic levels of autistic swag.

Thad’s VR upbringing installed self-consciousness in his psyche before any other personality trait. As in: he is immediately made conscious of himself and his relationship with everyone he will ever encounter. He’s told two things: he’s a clone of someone else (inherently derivative, lesser) and that he was made to be superior (a status to achieve). Which is such an instant clarifier for Thad’s everything. Where superiority is a condition that everyone either has, or does not. It’s the one-zero binary again: are they better than me or am I better than them. Being above others is mandatory, and if his superiority is ever challenged by hard evidence or god forbid nuance Thad’s brain physically cannot take it. He needs to be better, to be worse is unthinkable, and there is no other way to be.

And this status of better or worse is, crucially, not up to Thad to decide. He needs The Authority to validate him. Bart never tries to prove himself because he has nothing to prove. Thad’s entire identity hinges on the self-worth he gets from doing a Good Job.

It is such an inherent part of his motives in the Impulse comics canon, which is why it always feels a little off when he’s interpreted as a jackass indiscriminately.

Like I don't think he needs everyone to like him. But I do think he has either one person or a set of very particular people that he needs to like him. Everyone else is either in that circle or outside of it.

(Which is why Bart is such a great foil for Thad tbh. There is no set of words or behaviors that’ll change Bart’s opinion of Thad, because Bart is unaffected by obedience or charm. So ironically Bart is probably one of few people that Thad doesn’t bother to put on even a little bit of an act for.)

While Bart goes with his instincts, his personal beliefs and convictions at all times, Thad is hyper-conscious of big-picture goals. They balance each other out that way. Thad's keeping track of whatever expectations he has placed on him, and how his actions reflect on him and the team beyond short-sighted solutions. He's a team player. AND he's an asshole.

#soapbox #dc #thad thawne #thaddeus thawne #inertia #bart allen #impulse #like he cannot be mean indiscriminately... u must interrogate WHY hes mean and to whom #if hes being raised with Max and Helen he would not intentionally do anything to make their lives more difficult #if hes being raised by Meloni same situation #he needs to be trying to get validation from SOMEWHERE u know #and of course he'll mess up and hurt the people he loves or wants to impress he is a human being #but while that can sometimes be the result #that is never the Goal u kno #not his Core Motivation #i feel like the more i talk about this the less sense im making

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chaoticbardlady99 · 3 months

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Twists and Turns (Astarion x F!Reader)

Synopsis: Astarion initially rejected you and you turn your attentions elsewhere- to his surprise.

By the time Astarion realizes his feelings for you- it’s too late. You and Gale are happy together and Astarion would never ruin that for you, but sometimes fate surprises us. Especially Astarion- who never thought he’d see Gale as a hero.

CW: Character death, angsty?, fluffy, crotch goblins (children)

Pairings: Gale Dekarios x F! reader and Astarion Acunin x F! reader- also some dadstarian

✨lightly edited✨

Author note: I was inspired by @thedomesticanthropologist post regarding an unconventionally attractive Tav. I didn’t really touch on it too much, but it is apart of the story to an extent. Please be kind because my writer’s anxiety has been so bad I almost deleted my blog entirely 🫣

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated 💜

Photo belongs to @venenum-cadaverinus on Tumblr

By the time Astarion had fallen in love with you- it had already been too late.

Oh he flirted with you, called you beautiful when he believed you weren’t much to look at, and then you had come up to ask if he would want to go look at stars with you the night of the Tiefling party. Astarion couldn’t get himself to even pretend he wanted to indulge in you. He assumed you were only wanting to sleep with him and he was not about to sleep with you just because you asked. Astarion no longer has to do anything anyone asks of him.

“I have standards.”

Your face falls and the book of Astronomy in your hand nearly slips.

“Oh- I,” you clear your throat, “I’m sorry to have bothered you then.”

He had rolled his eyes when he came back from being with whatever Tiefling woman he had approached- you had been crying quietly in your tent.

Astarion found the whole thing unattractive and well, really he found you unattractive. Astarion has a preference for traditionally beautiful people and you would never be that. You would surely get over it eventually and if he’s lucky, you’ll just be an annoying kicked puppy who will do anything for him like you have been since he met you.

So, for whatever reason, Astarion assumed everything would go back to normal the next day and the two of you would fall back into the usual routine- he sits and reads while you eat breakfast in the mornings, he talks about whatever book he is reading, you ask him questions about himself, and then you go about your days separately until going through the same motions for dinner. Astarion fights next to you and you protect each other. You are smitten with Astarion and he has you wrapped around his pinkie finger like he wanted.

So imagine his surprise when you don’t come out for breakfast or dinner at all- at least not to sit with him. All of a sudden, Gale is with you all the time. He had seen the man come up to you while you were holding your book and he hugged you- the wizard even glared at Astarion while he was doing it.

Astarion upped his game after that, but nothing he said ever reached you anymore. He’d call you beautiful and he’d watch you visibly flinch. He asked you to go to bed with him and you told him no- you wanted to be with someone who thought you were special and beautiful. Astarion said he does think that. You got angry with him and told him to stop lying- go back to “having standards”. Your anger stung and he knew it was justified, but the little pieces of your trust he could get eventually blossomed into a friendship. Only, now he wanted more and Astarion was entirely infatuated with you.

He had decided to tell you how he felt one night before the descent into the Shadow Cursed Lands, but you were quickly swept away by Gale the moment Astarion tried to come talk to you.

Gale was dragging you off somewhere very specific and when Astarion let his nosiness get the best of him- it dawned on him that he had truly lost you 2 months ago when he had said what he said.

You peer through a telescope excitedly, telling Gale about all your favorite constellations and why. He shares his own knowledge with you and you are wide eyed, fascinated- leaning in to hear more. Gale’s own lips hover over yours and the two of you are smiling at each other widely. Astarion thinks he’s going to throw up when Gale kisses you- not because he’s disgusted, but because it occurred to him that he might have thrown away the only person who actually gave a shit about Astarion enough to love him and he broke your heart. Fitting that he is the one hurting now.

Maybe that’s really all you had wanted- to share something you love with Astarion. You wanted to feel like he gave a shit about you too and he said, “I have standards”!? What in the hells is wrong with him!?

The part of him- the less prideful part- wishes he had gotten to see you this way for him. Why did he spend so much time focusing on you knowing him? Why didn’t he take the time to see you this way? Know you this way when you wanted him.

Gale said something that made you laugh heartily as he brushed stray hair from your face, his hands gripping your hips, and you gasped when he kissed you again. The sound fills Astarion with warmth, but makes him feel sick at the same time. That should be him with you, not Gale.

You went from being plain, unattractive and uninteresting to the single most beautiful individual he has ever met. Astarion found himself hanging onto your words (even the angry ones) and yearning to be next to you.

You continued to do your dance with Gale while Astarion continued his own dance with you. When you threaten that horrible Drow on his behalf, Astarion has to accept it- he has well and truly fallen for you.

Astarion decided he would tell you when you got back from whatever excursion you were on with Gale. He had to at least try. Besides, what could Gale possibly show you in the Shadow Cursed Lands?

Only it had been too late- neither one of you came back for hours and when you did, the two of yours’ scents were mingled so closely together he could barely distinguish you from Gale. You began sleeping in the man’s tent, holding his hand during meals, exchanging kisses, etc.

Astarion, on the other hand, had taken the unofficial title of ‘best friend’. It had stung quite a bit, but he happily took whatever scraps you could give him. It was hardly scraps though- Astarion feels emotionally cared for, protected, and respected by you at all times. Besides, Astarion has a feeling that, if anything happened between you and Gale, there was a very good chance for Astarion to take over that space in your heart again.

The love test at the circus proved it- you had been more compatible with Astarion than Gale. Thankfully you had gone at separate times (Astarion and Gale have since become friendly enough so Astarion doesn’t have to worry about losing you). You had avoided Astarion’s eyes while Gale boasted about the Love Test results.

You had been the first one to wake up and attack his siblings when they had tried to kidnap him. Astarion had never seen you look that angry before in the entire time he has met you- you were even angrier than when Araj had pestered him.

You admitted to Astarion later that day that you hadn’t been sleeping well- you were worried about Cazador or his siblings showing up and that you wouldn’t get there in time. It had been haunting you since the minute you stepped foot in Rivington.

When he finally did face Cazador, it was with you at his side and when he finally killed the man- you didn’t deny Astarion the hug he begged you for telepathically. You held him up as he sank against you and you said soothing words- you told him how proud of him you were. You still reminded him everyday after when he expressed doubt.

Astarion was certain he would watch you grow old with Gale and have a family. So Astarion promised himself that he will love you dutifully regardless and protect you and your family like you have protected him. When you pass? He isn’t sure what he will do then, but he has eternity to be without you and Gods only knows long to be around you.

Until the Wizard of Waterdeep just had to throw him a curve ball the night before the battle against the Netherbrain.

Astarion was sitting by the roaring fireplace as he tried not to make it obvious to Gale that he’s silently pining for you. You were laughing and telling jokes with Karlach and Wyll- Shadowheart joining in and eventually Lae’zel. Your laughter is probably one of Astarion’s favorite sounds.

Only because he doesn’t know what you sound like moaning underneath him.

“You love her.”

Astarion’s train of thought broke and he gawked at the Wizard.

“I-um,” Astarion cleared his throat, “I’m afraid you have the wrong impression. Obviously I’m looking at…”

Actually now that he’s looked over there, none of them were believable enough for him to get out of this one.

“Yes- yes fine. I love her,” Astarion scowls, “you won, I love her and get to watch you live a whole life with her. Congratulations.”

“Astarion- I didn’t say that because I want to rub it in your face. I’m saying it because I have a favor to ask- for Tav’s sake.”

Astarion felt himself freeze. He was silently praying that Gale wasn’t going to tell him to stay away from you- to walk away and never come back after the events of tomorrow. It would be the thing that kills Astarion.

“Okay,” he says wearily, “I’m listening.”

“We all know it’s possible that some of us won’t be leaving this journey alive tomorrow.”

Is he suggesting you might die tomorrow? Astarion still stays right next to you during fights- no one even gets within an inch of you if he can help it.

“If it comes down to it and I need to use my orb,” Gale says solemnly, “I need you to take Tav and run- I don’t care if you need to drag her, cast sleep on her, anything as long as it’s painless.”

Astarion stared at the man blankly. He’s asking Astarion to drag you away as you watch your boyfriend sacrifice himself for the sake of the greater good of humanity.

“Why- why are you asking me? And not Karlach or-“

“Because I know you won’t tell her that I’m considering it as an option,” Gale said before adding, “and I am very aware that she loves you too. She’s going to need you if I die.”

“Need me?,” Astarion laughs in disbelief, “Gale, I broke her heart and I’m about to lose the only way I can walk in the sun tomorrow. It would be stupid of her to-“

“No, it would not,” Gale frowns, “she loves you, Astarion. Stop pushing her away.”

“You aren’t dead yet, Wizard,” Astarion said with an edge to his tone, “there is still a possibility that there is a Dekarios wedding in the foreseeable future.”

Gale smiled sadly at Astarion.

“That is the hope- is it not?” Gale got up to join you and the others, “you’ll remember that you deserve to be loved for her- won’t you?”

Astarion watched the man walk off like he hadn’t just dropped a massive bomb onto Astarion’s world. He watched as you smiled brightly at Gale and your hands intertwined with his.

But he also caught you looking over at him with a welcoming, pleading smile. Astarion smiles back and joins- hoping that he won’t be part of the reason that smile fades ever again.

*******************************

Gale looks at Astarion- they are losing. Tav is hurt, but still trying to sling spells and cantrips. Karlach and Wyll are becoming cornered quickly, Shadowheart and Lae’zel too. Even with all of the support they brought and it still wasn’t enough.

You bastard, Astarion telepathically says to Gale, you really are going to make me the bad guy, huh?

Ha!, Gale thinks sadly, you have it turned around. It has been a privilege to know you, Astarion. Take care of Tav for me.

Same to you, Gale- I promise she’ll be safe.

Gale announces to everyone they need to leave. You run towards Gale screaming for him to stop- that he doesn’t have to do this, but Astarion intercepts you.

“ASTARION- PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW,” you scream while slamming your fists into his back, struggling to make him release you, “PUT ME- GALE PLEASE- I LOVE YOU!”

Gale smiles at you with all the love in the world.

“I love you too, Tav. Always and forever.”

Gale casts a spell and like that- they are on the docks. You are screaming and throwing magic- desperate to get back to Gale as Astarion holds you close to his chest.

“I hate you!” You scream as you push Astarion weakly, “ I… I-“

You look at him pitifully and Astarion’s heart aches with yours. Astarion pulls you back towards him in a tight hug and holds you. You sob into his chest and hold him back with equal ferocity.

Astarion’s ability to comfort you only lasts about five minutes before the sun begins to burn him again and Karlach is dying- Wyll convinces her to go to Avernus with him. Astarion races to the shadows- certain that he is about to go into the darkness alone as he hides behind the crates.

He cradles his burning hand to his chest and hisses through the pain. Astarion doesn’t register the frantic footsteps approaching him.

“ASTARI- oh my Gods.”

He looks up at you in disbelief as you get down to your knees next to him and begin pulling out healing scrolls, potions, anything you can think of that might help.

You stay next to him until it’s time to move to a different set of shadows and you stay with him every moment afterwards.

You spend the next 6 months together starting your search for a Ring of the Sunwalker in the Underdark- successfully assassinating a very powerful Drow Priestess for it right before Wither’s party.

When you head back to Baldur’s gate together- Astarion sells all of Cazador’s shit and his castle. He invites you to live with him and you pick a house together.

Your emotions have been foreign and not easy for Astarion to handle over the last 6 months and even a year after moving in together, but he thinks about how crazy he would feel if you had also died that day and so he has weathered every storm you throw at him.

Astarion sits as you angrily rant about how unfair it was for him to make that decision without you. You wanted a choice, some kind of say, and you even occasionally just screamed at Astarion for preventing you from staying with him.

This continues even after the party that Wither’s throws. Tara adored you just as Gale had predicted and his holograph healed a piece of you, but now your grief is all consuming. You lay in bed for days on end and you stop eating or even coming out of your room. Scratch lays next to you dutifully until Astarion takes him out to use the restroom. They have to disguise the poor dog as a cat, but he doesn’t seem to mind very much.

Astarion lets you sit and do what you need to do, but after day 10, he finally needs to help you feel like a person again- in whatever way he can. So he runs you a bath and he helps you numbly walk towards it. It’s been about 30 minutes since he left you upstairs. He considered offering to help you, but he wasn’t sure if that would be crossing a line.

You walk downstairs moments later and quietly say his name. Astarion looks up at you and smiles- you took a bath.

“Well, well, look at you,” Astarion teases, “you sure clean up nicely.”

You laughed hoarsely at his joke and sat next to him. Astarion doesn’t move- he wants to pull you into his lap, but he doesn’t want to push your boundaries.

“Can- would you-,” you choke on the lump in your throat, “would you hold me, please?”

Astarion’s face softens as you begin to sniffle and your shoulder begins to shake with the sobs you are trying to hold back.

“Of course, Darling.”

You crawl into his lap and you lean the side of your head against his unbeating heart. Astarion just goes back to reading his book, enjoying the comfortable silence and how your body finally seems to have relaxed. You’d been so tense for the last two years- constantly on the verge of breaking in half, but he knows how resilient you are. He knows your strength and he knew you would get out of it eventually- even if only for a little while at a time.

“What are you reading?”

Your voice sings through the air and is like music to his ears. You sound like you again- tired and still a little melancholy- but you nonetheless.

“Well, Darling, I thought it might be worth learning about some of this astronomy nonsense a little over a year ago so we could talk about it when you felt better,” Astarion says, trying to say it as nonchalantly as possible, “I’ve come to really enjoy the topic.”

You beam at him and it’s the first time he’s seen a smile reach your eyes in what feels like eons. You quiz him, correct him, you tell him everything over the ‘stars’ and then some as you so horribly said. Astarion can’t help but find the moment to be so bittersweet.

He finally had the moment he wanted with you, but he didn’t think a single moment would cost a life.

************************************

“Elanora! Gale! Get back here you little-“

The twins giggle as they run from Astarion around the house. He understands what people mean by terrible twos now.

It’s been a little over 10 years since Gale died. In that time- Karlach had her engine fixed and five years ago, you found a Wish scroll for Astarion. Being a living breathing human again was a very difficult adjustment for the first two years. It’s been 3 years now and it’s not as difficult, but he did forget about the whole pregnancy thing.

It had been a massive shock when you fell pregnant a few months after you and Astarion had gotten married a little over two years ago. Astarion had been so focused on the proposal being perfect that it took longer for him to ask than he wanted.

You giving birth was probably the most terrifying experience of his life and you very well almost died, but by some miracle, you lived through the gruesome endeavor. He gives his thanks to Shadowheart, Isobel, and Dame Aylin. Astarion suspects Gale might have had a hand in it too because you had been out cold, but woke up with tears in your eyes and told Astarion that A. Gale says hello and B. how dare he think you’d just abandon two children with him like that. You are responsible “dammit!”

Astarion is so grateful you didn’t die giving birth to his children. He loves the little crotch goblins to death, but you are the only one they really listen to. You always tell him it’s because he gives in- Astarion argues “how could I not!? Have you seen them!? They are adorable!”

Scratch tried to help him initially after you left to go spend time with Shadowheart, Karlach, and Lae’zel at Elfsong Tavern. The poor dog didn’t last much longer than Astarion- hiding under the bed from the monstrous toddlers that are definitely from his gene pool.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind saying n-“

“They are my children, Darling,” he said all too confidently, “I can handle time alone with my children!”

Evidently there is a difference between handling and surviving- Astarion would consider himself trying to survive. He should have taken Halsin’s offer to hang out- maybe the twins would listen to their Uncle more than him.

Astarion eventually caught them, bathed them, read them a book, and got them to bed. The minute Gale fell asleep around 11:30 pm was the same time you came home.

Astarion came down the stairs and you began to laugh as quietly as you could behind your hand. He leers at you playfully.

“Did you have fun, my Star?” You tease.

“Once I finally caught them- yes,” he says flatly.

You walk up to him and wrap your arms around his torso.

“Let’s go to bed- then you can tell me all about it and I’ll tell you all the hot gossip Karlach has heard from Wyll about the upper class in Baldur’s Gate.”

“Will it be in the paper tomorrow?”

“Oh yes,” you grin widely, “ oh yes it will.”

Astarion loves when you come back from meeting with Karlach- he always knows what’s happening before it even happens. It means he gets to watch everyone else be scandalized which is usually 1,000 times more entertaining than the gossip itself. One time- the paper had been so explicit that the next door neighbor (an elderly woman) quite literally died of shock after reading about an affair the Magistrate had with the Duke. Apparently she was a hard core supporter of the wives and never anticipated such ugly men to cheat on their wives (you may have found him using a talk to the undead spell on the poor woman).

You fall asleep faster than you anticipated- at least that’s what Astarion thinks. The moment you lay your head on his chest is the same moment you slowly, softly begin to snore as he tells you about the evening. You chuckle when he says he is going to need help cleaning up the water in the bathroom tomorrow.

These are the nights that Astarion finds himself looking up to the heavens and smiling sadly- thanking Gale for his sacrifice, for giving Astarion a life he never thought he would ever have.

Most importantly, he thanks Gale for you. For letting go of what future he could have had with you. For not asking you to stay and die with him.

Gale Dekarios is the only reason Astarion Acunin believes in heroes at all.

328 notes · View notes

mothhball · 26 days

Note

Hiii! Your writing for Neil is so fantastic thank you for your service <3 📼 could you maybe write one with Neil and reader Pool hopping in the summer and they have to make a run for it so they’re not caught? (Maaaybe forced proximity, friends to lovers or established relationship, some fluff, some smut.. whatever your heart desires) have a safe train ride!!!

Pairing | Neil Lewis x fem!Reader

Warnings | sickly sweet fluff! brief smut, p in v sex, pool sex, friends to lovers, Neil and Reader are very silly

Summary | pool hopping and dramatics

Words | 2k

Notes | thanks for the request!! <33 I hope the formatting works, I'm posting on mobile

MINORS DNI

"I don't know, Nels..." you glance down at the water with a skeptical twitch of your eyebrow before you decide to dip your toe in. Immediately, you pull back.

"Gah! How is it this cold? I'm cooking out here!" Neil laughs at your complaints, wiping the sweat off his brow as he watches you with fond eyes. It's easy to forget that this pool isn't even yours. Neither is this property. But you went in the middle of the day on purpose, making sure that there was no car in the driveway and no one was home.

"You need to go in quickly, that'll make it easier. Come here, I'll help you," he offers, and at first glance, he seems helpful enough. Neil is presenting himself as deceptively harmless, but the mischievous glint in his eyes is enough to make you shake your head and take a step back. You know what he's planning. You've seen that expression countless times before, know every detail of his face as closely as your own. Yet neither of you has dared to cross that final line between platonic and... something more. Maybe you're both cowards. Always tip-toeing around the what ifs and not having the guts to give the thing between you a proper name. To any outsider, you might as well be dating already. It's just that the memo hasn't reached Neil nor yourself just yet.

"Don't you dare. Stay away from me." You try to fight against the grin that's growing on your face, but the rush of dopamine is too strong.

Neil slowly stalks towards you, opening his arms. "What? I'm not doing anything... don't be like that." He pretends to take offense to your hesitation, lips pulling down into a playfully dramatic frown as he creeps closer around the edge of the pool.

"You're going in."

Before either of you know it, he's chasing you around the backyard, bare feet sprinting over the grass. You're both laughing your heads off like idiots, trying hard to outsmart the other. Eventually though, Neil closes the distance, and he wraps his arms around your waist, squeezing you to keep you from escaping.

"Got you!"

Despite your half-hearted protests, he drags you back over to the edge of the pool, dipping you dangerously low towards the surface of the water.

"Any last words?" He teases, offering you one last chance at mercy as a triumphant smirk pulls at his lips. In that moment, you know you have to try and mess with him to wipe that expression off his face. You know he has strong opinions about anything regarding pop culture, so you just decide to go for it.

"Star Wars is better than Star Trek." Silence. Those are definitely fighting words, and you're able to witness how Neil's expression twists in real time. This is no longer just bantering. This is about honor now.

"I'm sure you didn't just say that. Take it back," he demands, narrowing his eyes at you. But you stay stubborn, shaking your head. A somber expression settles on your face, and there's a crackle of dramatic energy between the two of you.

"You may come out of this victorious, but at least I spoke my truth. And you will never take that from me."

Neil immediately picks up on your eccentricities, happily joining in. His tone becomes icy as he gets into character, playing the role of your summery executioner quite well.

"Your truth is wrong. You'd have to be blind to ignore the intricacies in the world-building and the far more fleshed-out character arcs and coherent storytelling," he hisses, giving your waist a little squeeze to drive his point home. You wheeze in response.

"Star Trek is far more rooted in scientific facts. Star Wars is for chicks with mask kinks. So take. It. Back." In a moment that couldn't be staged more perfectly than this, a breeze wafts through the backyard, tousling Neil's hair and driving a shiver up your spine.

"You're a fool, Neil. A fool," you murmur, glaring at him like he's committing the ultimate betrayal.

"Is it a sin to enjoy the whimsical nature of nonsensical physics? Is it a sin to witness man's creativity in scenarios that are absurd and stupid? Is it a sin to watch silly little men with silly little helmets?"

You look off into the distance, pausing for dramatic effect.

"If that's the case, then I accept my punishment."

"Then your punishment shall be the pit." With that, he lets go of you, causing you to plunge into the pool below in a scene that would truly be Oscar-worthy. The cool water surrounds you, but the warmth in your chest remains. Neil was right. It really is easier to go in fast and all at once. You’ve been hesitating for far too long, denying yourself relief and enjoyment.

A push. That's all what was missing.

Neil jumps in right after you, bringing you back up to the surface with his gentle hands on your skin as he holds you up bridal-style. Of course, he's still in character.

"Oh God... what have I done... talk to me. Talk to me, damnit!"

You try to stay as limp as possible, but it only takes a moment for the both of you to start laughing again. Your heart hasn’t felt this light in a long, long time. But with Neil, it might as well be soaring up into the cloudless sky.

"We're so stupid," you manage to get out between giggles, and Neil just shrugs in response, looking down at you with a grin so bright that he could pass off as your own personal sun.

"Maybe. But there's no one else I'd rather be stupid with."

You're not sure if he knows what kind of impact his words have on you, and as you look up at him to meet his eyes, a moment of silence settles over the two of you. Both of you just study each other for a while. Curious, as if you've only met for the first time, and your heart wanders further up into your throat with every passing second.

Neil breaks the spell first, swallowing heavily, and a drop of water falls from his hair to land right on your cheek where his gentle thumb wipes it away.

"You make me nervous."

You blink in response, not sure how to take this comment, but he's generous enough to continue and elaborate.

"I never know how to act around you... I... I love being around you, but God, my self-control is being tested every time we hang out," he confesses, and you spot the hint of a lovely pink on his cheeks. Is this the part where you get your hopes up?

"Maybe you shouldn't hold yourself back from... doing whatever it is that you want to do? Maybe... maybe doing it would be a good thing?" You test the waters, and to your delight, Neil leans down to rest his forehead against yours, his voice lowering to a soft murmur.

"Yeah?"

“Yeah. Just… take the plunge, Neil.”

He nods at your words. Slowly, thoughtfully. And he bites his lip, studying the way the light hits your eyes. Eyes that he could get lost in for hours on end. The last distance between the two of you closes almost by itself, and pretty quickly, you are locked in a kiss that’s almost as heated as the sun that’s blasting down on you. Neil still has you in his arms, touching and feeling you with the desperation of a man that has been deprived of the thing he’s been wanting for years. Which would be nothing but the truth.

Your shaking hands are tangled in his dripping hair, gently tugging at his scalp which causes him to groan against your tongue and pull you over to press you up against the edge of the pool. The water splashes around you, and your nose is filled with the scent of chlorine and the sunscreen that you forced on Neil earlier. Stubborn idiot. But as it turns out, he’s now your stubborn idiot. For a blissfully long moment, you get to make out with him, and your world shrinks down in size, encompassing just the two of you. His heaving chest against yours, his skin beneath your fingers, and his hands that reach under your knees and hold you up against his body.

A soft moan slips from your lips as he dares to pull your bikini bottoms to the side to slip his dick inside of you. And fuck, does it feel right. You should’ve done this ages ago, but now, the reward feels even sweeter. Neil whispers your name against your throat, setting an impatient pace of thrusts as he fucks into your fluttering pussy, and you hold onto him with your nails slightly digging into his back. It’s easy to forget that he was just your friend a few minutes ago. Just as easy as it is to miss the noise of a car pulling into the driveway. The driveway that belongs to the property. The property that you’re trespassing on. Neil perks up at the sound of a door slamming shut, and he curses under his breath.

“Fuck – hold your breath.”

You barely get the chance to fill your lungs with precious oxygen before he dives beneath the pool’s surface with you in his arms. Just in time before the owner of the house steps outside to check out the backyard. From his angle, you’re just barely obscured and distorted by the water. An optical illusion that, if explained, would surely have someone clutching their pearls. The homeowner pauses on the patio for a minute, and in the meantime, Neil is getting impatient. You can feel him throbbing inside of you, sneakily rocking his hips against yours in a tiny motion that’s enough to make your toes curl. In response, you tug on his hair, causing him to still once more. Your lungs are burning, and you clench your eyes shut, praying that the guy whose pool you’re “borrowing” just leaves already.

And, in a twist of sweet, sweet fate, he does. There’s a brief reflection of light as the glass sliding door to the living room of the house opens and closes once more, and Neil slowly pops his head up before giving you the go as well. Immediately, you resurface, both gasping for air, but grinning from ear to ear. Neil is panting, giving your thighs a quick squeeze before he pulls away from you, putting you back down.

“We need to leave,” he gasps. “Right now.”

It’s a daring escape, and as much as you try to stay quiet, both Neil and yourself start to giggle while you’re still getting out of the pool. Someone – most definitely the owner of the property – shouts and curses after you while you scramble to grab your things, and you almost get caught as Neil helps you climb over the wooden fence before you manage to dash off, hand in hand.

He pulls you along, and you can hear your heartbeat drumming in your ears, along with the pitter patter of your bare feet down the street and your breathless laughter. The heat quickly dries your skin, and you’re still grinning brightly as you reach Neil’s car that he parked a few streets away. Finally, finally, the two of you manage to catch your breath, and he reaches out to smooth his thumb over your jaw. A silent gesture of affection that he’s done a thousand times. But now, the context is a different one. For a moment, Neil is lost in your smile and your eyes, before he manages to catch himself, remembering how to speak.

“You know… we’re partners in crime now. Can I count on you to keep this between us?”

A breathy laugh is your answer, and now it’s your turn to bite your lip.

“I’m sure we can think of a few ways to keep each other’s mouths shut.”

@ellebelleshelby @cilliansprincess @mcumorningstar @x0xomady @mandies24

@detroitbecomevenom @pretty-bluebird @ink5ouls @flwrs4aust @vampmary1411

@ashdrinksoatmilk @luvizuku @nnattu @ptolemaniac @kiss-me-cill-me @celebrities-imagines @hanawrites404 @red-riding-wood

#cillian murphy x reader #neil lewis x reader #neil lewis smut #neil lewis #neil lewis x you #watching the detectives #.moth writes

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armins-used-qtip · 4 months

Text

Armin finds your tapes

(This isn’t my best story but I didn’t want it to go to waste so I’m posting it :)

Armin had been staying with Eren for the past month due to renovations on his apartment. It wasn’t surprising he went to Eren since they’d been friends for as long as they could remember. You personally got along well with Armin and considered him to be your friend, rather than just your boyfriend’s friend. It also helped you were both film students.

Now that he was temporarily living in Erens house you saw a lot more of him. Often you two would hang out. Even when Eren wasn’t there, discussing your passions for filmmaking.

On this night you were in Erens room waiting for him to get back from his part time job. It was about 6:00pm and he got off at 10:00pm

Armin was in the living room, flicking through the large collection of dvds and tapes you had collected over the years. Unlike Eren, Armin also appreciated the older forms of entertainment and preferred DVDs over Netflix or Disney+.

Armins shuffling fingers stopped at a tape he didn’t recognise

“What’s this ‘Eren and me’ oh is this Y/N’s new project?” excitement filled him up as he pulled the tape out. He felt a feint sense of pride. That’s just the type of person he was, he cared so much about others goals and aspirations.

“She was probably going to show me this at some point, might aswell watch it now” he giggled to himself as he walked into his room with the tape in hand.

He sat down, turned his laptop on and slid the DVD in. He patiently waited as the video loaded. When it finally loaded he looked closely, turning the brightness up to really see the screen.

‘Ngh~ E-Eren fuck…’ the image of you getting fucked senseless came on Armins screen. His cheeks were blazing as he scrambled to shut the laptop. Suddenly he was so aware of his breathing- no it was more like panting.

Even after a few minutes had passed he couldn’t shake the lewd image from his mind. He wasn’t entirely sure how to react. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard you two going at it through the thin walls before, but actually seeing it was so different. Especially since it was in such an intimate way. It wasn’t just cheaply recorded on a cellphone, no. It was filmed with a camcorder and put on a DVD. It was something to be cherished, and yet he had just invaded any privacy the tape held.

Armin had never regarded you in any other way than a friend. But he still couldn’t help the way his pants tightened and his face heated at the sight of you in such a vulnerable position.

As if something possessed him he opened the laptop again. The video had paused and it was a still image. Your mouth agape and eyes half rolled back. Eren had a fistful of your hair as he yanked your drooping head up, forcing you to look at the camera. Armins finger hovered over the space bar. He knew this would be pernicious to your friendship, the smart thing to do would be put the tape back and pretend he’d never seen it.

But sometimes ‘the smart thing’ doesn’t win. He pressed down and allowed the video to play.

Armin wasn’t particularly well versed, sexually speaking. He had only a few sexual experiences. Each time he had sex or engaged in anything of the sort he felt underwhelmed and disinterested.

This was not like those other times, his entire body felt like it was on fire. He forced his mouth shut as he intently watched. You were getting pounded at an ungodly pace. Tears were forming in your eyes. Suddenly Eren pulled out of you, the whine you emitted at the loss of contact made Armins pants grow even tighter. Eren walked out of the frame only to return with a lit candle. Is he trying to up the ambience??

An audible gasp left Armins mouth when Eren poured the hot wax onto your back. Your yelps of pain only seemed to up Erens ambition as he placed the candle down and began spreading the hot wax with his hands. The unholy sounds leaving your mouth left Armin gobsmacked. Surely you couldn’t be enjoying that? It looked so… painful.

He felt deeply ashamed at the way his dick practically jumped at the sight of you in pain. With lack of better judgment he unbuckled his belt and started pulling his pants down his thighs.

He shuddered at the contact between his sweaty palm and his dick. Then he positioned the laptop on his thighs so he could watch as he touched himself.

As Eren wiped the now solidifying wax of your back, your knees began to buckle from the intense and prolonged ecstasy you had been denied so many times. “Please… Eren” you panted in a desperate tone “I just want to cum” you pleaded to your boyfriend.

Erens face contorted into one of reassurance, a misleading smile plastered on his face. “Cmon sweetie, you can hold out for a bit longer” Eren said as he lifted your limp head to face the camera. “You have to put on a show for the camera, right? Fucking slut” he whispered in your ear, still holding that smile. You weakly nodded your head, making Eren smile even wider.

Armin blushed furiously as you looked straight into the camera. It was almost as if you were staring into his soul, like you knew what he was doing. This sent a wave of guilt through him, causing him to still his tugging hand.

Eren went back behind you and began pounding again at that ungodly pace. The lewd sounds of skin slapping and squelching drove Armin crazy and he started moving his hand up and down.

Armins hips were bucking, he desperately needed something more than his hand. He took his thumb and ran it over his throbbing tip. Pathetic whines left his mouth. It truly was a filthy sight to see. THE Armin Arlet jerking off to his best friend’s sex tape.

He kept his hand at the same rhythm of Eren pounding into you. His own Broken whimpers covered the sound of the tape.

The pressure was building too fast, he had to throw his head back to stop himself from cumming immediately. The deep pleasure in his gut started spreading through his whole body. At this point he was spasming like a mad man, biting on his free hand to stop himself from moaning. Although it was pretty ineffective as his whimpers filled the room. Armin wondered what you must think, hearing all the obscene noises he is making from the other room.

The thought of you catching him sent him over the edge. The scene was similar to a balloon exploding. His wild hips bucking as he shot ropes of hot cum from his cock. incomprehensible sentences were being spat from his mouth as he emptied himself all over his bed and chest.

After about a minute of cumming and shaking, he gradually calmed down. Minus his irregular and heavy breathing he was finished. His laptop was still open but the video had finished. He wasn’t sure when the tape had ended. Grabbing the box of tissues next to his bed, he wiped his lower abdomen. ‘I should put this back’ he thought as he looked at the DVD that was poking out of his laptop.

The end xx

I take requests or anything (as long as they’re AOT men 🙏🙏)

#aot smut #aot x reader #attack on titan #eren jaeger #eren yeager #smut #armin aot #armin arlert #armin #eren aot #armin x y/n #armin x reader #eren x reader #attention wh0r3 #cybercore

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bugs1nmybrain · 2 months

Text

Shigaraki's Psychological Conditions Headcanons - (a long ass post)

So, I'll preface this by saying I am NOT a psychiatrist and am not qualified to diagnose shit. I do however have a history of personal mental health disorders and am going to school for mental health work. This is mostly just for theory sake. My word is not absolute

Let's begin

warnings: mental illness as title suggests, not proofread and probably has typos

Antisocial Personality Disorder / Conduct Disorder

This one sort of goes without saying cuz duh he's a villain or whatever. I want to specify that in terms of Antisocial Personality, he likely is a sociopath, NOT a psychopath

I hear people call him a psychopath all the time and it's infuriating because people throw around labels without understanding what they mean. Psychopaths are more cunning and charming, and very manipulative. This isn't to say that Tomura is none of those things. Psychopath, however, applies to people like All For One. Almost diplomatic and very persuasive.

Tomura is a sociopath because he's known for recklessness and abrasive behavior. Psychopaths often pretend to have feelings, but for sociopaths aggression is a key emotion that's visibly displayed. They are also able to feel remorse in some cases, and I run this back to Shigaraki because he spent years in what was implied to be repressed guilt regarding the death of his family. Tomura admits it himself in his flashbacks, but ultimately decides to let go of that guilt (that he still fucking feels and is in DENIAL but that's another post). Hence, his forgiving nature toward his mother and sister when he's dreaming during surgery.

Even after Tomura let that burden go, he has no desire to be cool and collected, he just fucks around and finds out. Overall, though, he disregards people's lives and doesn't have remorse for what he's done because he throws his trauma and desires over it as a bandaid. He does show care and consideration to people in the League, though.

The conduct disorder part of it is self-explanatory. He's a violent criminal, lol.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)

Duh.

Trauma is pretty much all Tomura has known. I won't reiterate his backstory, but being physically abused and rejected as a child, the murder of his family, being blatantly ignored by people on the streets, and AFO's upbringing? That's a lot

His PTSD is so dehibilitating that it took hold of his body language and behavior. Before the end of s5, Tomura was rigid and hunched over. In the MHA video games, he's also seen as very restless and moving his body around (until s4 era in One's Justice 2). I'll attach a video below.

He's also just very irritable and easily set off at the reminders of his trauma and rejection. "I HATE YOU" is a key example, as up to that point Tomura had been improving his rash behavior, but he's very unsettled by his past and continues to be now.

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

His case of OCD is connected to his trauma and emotions. You'll find that a lot of his conditions feed into one another. For him, he has a variant of dermatillomania (often known as the skin picking disorder). For him, that is in the form of scratching rather than picking. But he does it compulsively and without thought, and he does it in attempts to self soothe. I believe he does it occasionally as a self injurious behavior, resulting in itching himself rather than lashing out. He even just does it when he's only moderately anxious or irritated.

Depression

While we don't see Shigaraki slumped in bed or feeling sad in the ways we see in many cases of depression, his "I hate everything" mentality puts him here. Actually, it's safe to say he experiences anhedonia, which is the lack of enjoyment in anything. He seems to somewhat enjoy video games, but his bio states "nothing" as his likes. I'm inclined to believe he feels no personal joy or happiness, and tries to attain that through murderous rage. Never works tho, does it Tomura?

Bipolar Disorder and Unspecified Psychotic Disorder

This one might stir some debates, but I do genuinely think he has a mood disorder. I don't want to feed into stigma that bipolar and psychotic people are "evil," because I myself have these conditions, so maybe I'm projecting lmao. He's definitely not medicated, and so I'd say his case is Bipolar Type 1. This type is characterized by intense manic symptoms, though depressive symptoms can be severe, too.

Tomura has manic tendencies, and he's impacted by mania in that he seems to get spontaneous motivation, but he also will stay stagnant for some time. I saw this as the case when Spinner literally went at Shiggy for putting the League in a complacent stage, but he's done this before, such as when he was in a slump about Stain. When his motivation surges, though, he goes above and beyond and doesn't put extensive thought into it. He just lunges into his desires in pursuit of satisfaction. He also has delusions of grandoisity to some degree and has a moment where he treats himself as invincible. He fought Gigantomachia for almost two months, and kept fucking going at him. Surely, he could've asked the doctor to call him off, but Tomura wanted that power so bad. Tomura also went into his surgery without asking many questions about it. He makes very impulsive decisions, even after people insist that he "matured." He also gets flicked into motivation like a snap of a finger, and proceeds to be lead mostly by endorphins and gratification.

When Tomura experiences what he perceives as a "positive" emotion, it overtakes him. He becomes pretty much engrossed in his bodily sensations. Through maniacal laughter and taunting language that's charged in a hate induced fuel. When Shigaraki has "voila" moments, he has a surge in neuroactivity and gets into aggressive mood stages, but I guess that could apply to most of the villains. I saw this when Deku told him the difference between him and Stain, and Tomura had a surge in manic-like bliss and drive.

I'm not sure if Tomura hearing the voices of his family before his epiphany was just intrusive thoughts, but I thought they may have been auditory hallucinations. Tomura admits to hearing things that aren't there and seeing visual hallucinations, too. Evidenced by:

I hate how the dub translated this into "when you're this tired" as a broad statement. The manga gives this more personal association to Shigaraki, and he says that it happens when he's sleepy, and doesn't specify if it's only when he's extremely sleep deprived or just tired. Also, him staying up for days on end and smiling his ass off reeks of mania. He has delusional sprinkles in his thinking process, but they're not of bizarre nature, and are usually tied to his trauma. At this point in the manga he's very psychotic, though. That has a lot to do with him being fueled with adrenaline and also just breaking out of AFO's control.

I think he is either bipolar type 1 with psychotic features or has a mild case of schizoaffective disorder. Probably the first one, but I'm not sure.

ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder)

This one is more of a gut feeling for me, but I see Tomura as being easily distracted and aloof to his surroundings at times. He's fidgety and does shit on whim.

Also, look at his room.

I'm not saying that everyone with ADHD has a messy room, but from what I can see, he goes from one task, drops it entirely without picking up, and goes to the next. Some could argue that Tomura simply doesn't care, and that's true, but he's at least got some decency to put the shit in trash bags. Trash bags that he HASN'T EVEN TAKEN OUT. I think he gets too caught up in the shit he's focused on that it slips his mind to do simple things like that.

He has spontaneous interests from what I can tell from the many books and toys he has that seem to have gone untouched for some time. He also hyperfixates, and I don't mean interest wise. I mean that when he's dwelling on something, it doesn't leave his mind for DAYS, until he gets some gratification. All Might in s1 and Stain s2 for example.

In conclusion, this boy has a grocery list of conditions, but I love Tomura. I love my beautiful prince with a disorder, and he is so dear to me.

I'm open to discussions about this, but please keep them respectful.

#shiggy #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura headcanons #shigaraki headcanons #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #shimura tenko

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0w0tsuki · 2 months

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Hey Ive seen Baeddel used in a lot of your posts but like,, other than a definition of the word I cant really find much on what it means like discourse-wise.

I know its something relating to transfems but other than that im lost x.x sorry for the bother

Basically it started out as an old timey slur for trans women. The word "bad" is rooted from it. In the early 2010s a group of trans women adopted the term and had a community for a very short time before it collapsed and not much information is left over.

Some say that had abusive dynamics. Some say they were just talking about transfeminism like they do now. My sibling swears up and down from their personal experiences with the initial group that they were a group of grifters using queer politics to fundraise for tumblers first big scam, The ARK(C?) Project.

A bunch of anti-transfeminists in their efforts to create the magical word that will allow them to terf-jacket trans women without having it called out as such happened upon the term and used the lack of concrete history/the fact that most of the subjective history isn't too charitable to this original group to fabricate a conspiracy theory that these original Beaddels were an evil cabal of bigoted trans women who never really went away and now operate and sow intracommunity discourse from the shadows for the explicit purpose of weakening the holy divinity of TransUnity.

And while some of them moved on to other terms like "TIRF" and "Neo Radfem" a good portion of TransUnity/Transandro anti-transfeminists have latched onto the term and have doubled down on their intent to use it to create a category of trans women that it's ok to exclude. Out of all of the anti-transfeminists that have come out of this new wave, the ones who build their politics around "Anti-Beaddelism" are some of the most mask-off exclusionists of the bunch. Like look at how they talk about Beadels

They will list how these groups have a bunch of ties to nearly every anti-queer group they could think of. And then they warn White™(Because everytime they attack trans women they have to pretend like it's a race thing to distract from the transmisogyny) that they mean to need to maintain a sense of hypervigilance around their transfem sisters and read into every laugh, every joke, and every word for the possibility of finding Beaddel rhetoric. This is a manipulative abusive tactic to keep the transfems within their sphere of influence to reach other to other transfems and rely on TME people to tell them what's right and provide community.

I remember on sailorportia's "Anti-Egg discoursers sound just like my conversation therapist" post I saw one of these people referring to the notes section as "full of beaddel dogwhistles" and inviting people to "take a look and educate themselves". Not specifying what the dogwhistles are or how they are dogwhistles. Just vaguely gesturing at the notes section and inviting you to regard anything a vocal trans woman as a crypto-beaddel and anything they say as "beaddel dogwhistles"

These communities cultivate a sense of paranoia. They encourage constant scrutiny regarding anything a trans woman says. Their leaders sell themselves as protectors of the community whose exclusion is a necessary evil to keep online trans communities safe. They are incentivized to keep the term Beaddel definition murky but representative of all the evils they attribute to trans women.

The term in the modern day is largely prescriptive and moreso defined by the reactionary "Anti-Beadelism" movement than it is defined by its history. Only a few trans women have reclaimed the term. When anti-transfeminists talk about Beaddelism they aren't talking about an organized group or community, they are referring to a bunch of individual trans women they have branded with the beaddel slur.

Currently I don't think reclaiming the word is a good move. Not that I disagree with it or think trans women shouldn't reclaim it. It's just that it will do more harm than good for as long as exclusionists control the narrative on its definition. I've seen mutuals have their posts on general transfeminism get completely discarded out of hand because they had Beaddel in their profile name or bio.

Because like it or not the current definition of Beaddels that gets passed around was written by current ex-terfs/transandro nothorses bro and cites TERF resources in their definition. This is the same dude who's responsible for the foundation or the current TransUnity echo chamber and used the influence from creating that community to try and redefine TERF to include trans women for the purpose of TERF-jacketing.

It's why me and some other trans women have been picking up the words trasfeminism to refer to discussions of transfem issues and anti-transfeminist to refer to these new wave of transfem exclusionist. It denies the exclusionists the ability to define our politics for us to outsiders. Also note: If the term trasfeminism picks up in use your going to see a lot of these people switch from "Beaddel" to "Radical Transfeminist" as their go-to anti-transfeminist TERF-jacketing slur

#transmisogyny #transfeminism #exclusionists #beaddel #trans unity #transunity

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its-actually-minicika · 1 year

Text

THW Aemond's Kink List (18+)

Pairing: Dark!Aemond x Reader;

Warnings: nsfw situations;

Author's Note: You made me do this. You created this monstrosity. I hope this is exactly what you wanted, you sick, sick ppl

I'm done forever I FEEL SO ASHAMED PLS STOP ASKING ME FOR THE LIST NOW I HAVE 2 NEW REQS THAT MENTION IT 😭😀

Just as the title says, this is a basic list that dives into what's going on in that (even more basic) head of his.

I ended up splitting this into halves - one that speaks of his kinks when engaging with a casual sexual partner, and the other that goes into detail about what he's like strictly with the reader.

With Someone He Doesn't "Love"

When it comes to having sex for the simple sake of it, Aemond is a hard dom. He takes what he needs, with little to no regard for the feelings of others, and immediately leaves thereafter.

Although he still likes to give pleasure in his own way, and knows that aftercare is important, he's taking part in an actual war. Which often means he's more needed somewhere else, and is always left pent up and frustrated.

On his partner:

Choking (Breath Play);

Surprisingly sensual - not at all what you'd expect, with how aggressive he is in "The Harshest Winters", outside the bedroom.

Bondage;

No, not with his eyepatch. It takes a lot of trust for Aemond to remove it in the presence of anyone, even more so in the presence of a bedmate. Still, he's not against using the ropes that secure his clothing, or the leathers that go around his waist.

Degradation (Humiliation Play);

It just gets him going - no surprises here.

Impact Play;

Spanking, hair pulling, mark leaving. He's a possessive man, and likes to see the aftermath of his sessions on his willing partner;

Begging;

He'll be as mean and cruel as he sees fit. And the more his lover begs, the harsher he gets.

Sadism;

As seen in "Begging". The bedroom is the one place where he can retaliate on all the shit that he's been through, on all the wrongs that he thinks have been commited against him. Unfortunately, his partner gets to feel the worst of it.

Orgasm Denial;

This is less for the sake of his bedmate's pleasure, as it is for the fact that he needs a lot of time to actually finish.

Aemond hyperfixates on things, and he likes the feeling of finishing at the same time as his partner.

Unless he's close to an orgasm, they won't feel the edge of relief anytime soon.

Sensory Depravation;

Blindfolds, blindfolds, blindfolds. He gets to feel in utter control, and his partner doesn't have to see his scarred face.

Somewhat Roleplay;

If he's been engaging in it before you, he demands his partner to call him their "King", or "Master".

But if it's post meeting you, he just pretends he's doing you, instead. Bonus, he might just choke out your name when he's done defiling you inside his mind.

Edging;

More or less something that's unintentional.

Spitting (?);

I haven't made my mind about this one. To me, THW Aemond is a very clean and up-kept person. He might deem both his seed and saliva to be something dirty, something that shouldn’t be spread around (lmao that's why Alys is pregnant, he just never pulls out).

So if he does spit in someone's mouth, it's more so to degrade them further, or assert his claim over them.

Breeding Kink;

Come on.

We've all seen it coming - nobody's surprised with that one.

Oh himself:

Edging;

If he can spare the time, and he actually likes his bedmate, Aemond would like nothing more than to be edged like no tomorrow - but on his terms.

No, he won't sub for anyone he doesn't love and fully trust, no matter how fond he is of them.

He likes edging, it makes his release all the sweeter, but he'll still be in full control over what's going on, always on top. He controls the pace, the how's and when's, anything really.

Praise;

He loves being told how good he is, and how well he's fucking his current partner.

When it comes to praise, they can be as graphic and as loud as they want (it's actually encouraged, to be honest). The more he's complimented on his skill and stamina, the more fired up he gets.

Size Difference;

He likes to feel big, looming over someone.

He's always been the tiny, and helpless younger brother. Twice as small as Aegon while growing up, the laughing stock of his siblings and nephews.

Aemond loses his mind when his partner is smaller than him (heightwise - weight doesn't really impact him). It makes him feel dangerous and primal, to be able to manhandle someone as he sees fit.

Overstimulation;

This one's also a "only if he likes his lover" kind of deal.

He'll keep pounding in them, well after his initial release; and if his partner times this well, praising him throughout it, he might just finish inside them twice.

BONUS:

Favourite Positions to do the do:

Reverse cowgirl, doggy style, C.A.T, standing, against pieces of furniture or against the wall.

But How Is Aemond With Someone He Cannot Live Without?

If he actually gets you willingly in bed with him (consent is still very important to him), Aemond is a service dom, a very needy and clingy top, and he does border on being a sub.

I'll get this out of the way right now: yes, he would MUCH rather you still be a virgin by the time you guys make love. It's not about purity culture, but he does want to be your "one and only", your first and last.

He's so obsessed and possessive over you, that the simple thought of another man touching what's his sends him in a downward spiral.

Still, if you aren't a virgin, and have some sexual experience of your own under your belt, he might turn your first time into a little game: based on how many men have made you cum, he'll give you 5 times as many orgasms.

You think that's a lot? You think that's impossible?

Don't worry, you have the whole day ahead. And you can always break fast in bed.

On Lady Tully:

Intimacy;

He might not look or sound like it, but this man is whipped and very much soft for you - above all else, he craves that pure intimacy with you, and would do anything to bring you pleasure.

If you waited for your first "I love you" to happen while in bed with him, then Aemond came the moment you uttered the words to him.

Oopsies

Don't worry, though. Tell him you're proud of him, and that he rides the largest dragon in the world, and he'll be up and about again, 10 seconds tops.

Breeding Kink;

Obviously. He wants an army of babies with you, so uh... good luck.

Size Difference;

He revels in being able to grip you in ways that would be considered dangerous for others - a light hand over your neck, a squeeze of both your wrists as he pins you down.

He never once applies pressure, and he's far too scared to hurt you.

But he loves how tiny your hands are engulfed in his, how your eyes dilate as his bigger body presses deeply against yours.

Bondage;

If you want him to, he'll more than gladly tie you up and leave you bare atop the bed, completely at his mercy.

No, he still doesn't think to use the eyepatch - but if you tell him to do it, he will.

Overstimulation;

He would do it to you, again and again, until you can't breathe from pleasure anymore.

As opposed to how it was when he laid with other women, he overstimulates you purely for the sake of your own pleasure.

He wants to give everything to you. Since he's a man of few words (and the ones he ends up saying aren't always all that), his actions speak the loudest here.

Edging;

It makes him feel good, and it enhances his experience ten fold.

He wants to enrapture you in nothing but bliss - since edging works for him, it must work for you, too, right?

Multiple Orgasms;

Aemond is canonically pussy drunk. He'll stay inside you all day and steal as many orgasms as he can from you.

He's sure he loves you, and wants to take care of you. To him, making you cum around him is the best way to show you how sorry he is for all shit he put you though at the beginning of your relationship.

Knife Play;

... Dagger play.

He sees his blade as an extension of himself. Again, he would NEVER EVER hurt you, and would be very reluctant to even suggest such a thing to you.

If he sees you even slightly uncomfortable at the thought of it, he'll never ask you that again, and forget about the idea entirely.

But if you are game to experiment with him, then he'll gently graze the edge of the knife over your smooth skin (being very careful to not break in a single cut) and yeah, he will use the hilt to... you know.

Stop, he's actually so gross JSKKSKS

BODY WORSHIP;

He senses any insecurity you may have and makes it a point to make that part of your body his new praying altar.

Yeah, he's overcompensating for keeping you in a dungeon during the 1st month of your imprisonment.

Praise;

Loves whispering to you how good you're being for him, how good you make him feel, how much he loves you.

Marking;

You're all his now, and he lives to show it.

If you're modest, and don't like people staring at your hickeys and red marks, prepare to be wearing high collars all the time, even in the midst of summer.

Oral;

If he could spend his whole life with his lips over your cunt, Aemond would die a happy man.

The first time he ate you up, he immediately came into his pants.

Naww, that's just sad, dawg

Light Roleplay;

If you aren't married yet, he 100% roleplays that you're his wife in High Valyrian.

He actually proposes to you in High Valyrian everytime he cums.

BAHAHA IT'S TRUE

The beauty of role-playing with Aemond is that you don't even have to pretend to be anyone else. He does all the work in a language you already know.

He thinks he's very slick with it, but one day you'll stop abrupty and actually give him a reply, and he'll go completely nuts

Voyeurism;

He likes to focus on you pleasuring yourself with no other distraction, and focus in on your face.

He's been engaging in this ever since you started sleeping in his Chambers, let's be honest: sure, you're not actually doing anything sexual in the beginning of your stay with him, but Aemond finds anything you do alluring.

Brushing your hair, yawning, reading a book - everything gets him going.

On himself:

Anything.

Okay, there are some exceptions to this rule, but this isn't a joke. As stated before in his inner thoughts, this man will take ANYTHING that you willingly give him.

If you're into hitting him, slapping him, marking him, pulling his hair, denying him release, degrading him, spitting on him, stepping on him, whatever else - he's more than 1000% down for all that.

You could be so cruel to him, and he'd still be more than thankful just for getting you naked.

Since it's coming from you, and he's so "in love", Aemond won't bat a single eyelash at you, no matter what you suggest him to do.

Even so...

Hair Pulling;

It's one of his favourites. He couldn't tell you why, but he quietly loves it when you try to assert dominance over him;

Praise;

I don't need to elaborate.

Edging;

It prolongs the intimate moment with his lady, and it tests his self-control and focus.

Overstimulation;

He sees it as a very intimate experience, and he doesn't do it with everyone.

It's even more different when he does it with you - he sees it as a wordless way to surrender to you, and let you do whatever you want to him.

While he needs to be in full control with a random lover, Aemond easily lets go with you, and enjoys the stability that comes with the unexpected. You decide how everything goes, you run the show with him.

Knife Play and Blood Play;

He thinks it's really exhilarating to be at your mercy. It takes a lot of trust from him to be suggesting such a thing.

Multiple Orgasms;

He's been with plenty other women, and his sex drive isn't as high as you'd expect. But there's something that you do to him that makes him insatiable.

Light Bondage;

Yep. Tie him up a little bit and use him to your heart's content.

Mutual Masturbation;

Mhm.

BONUS:

Favourite positions to do the do:

Side-by-side scissors, spooning, missionary, mating press, legs on shoulders, standing, cowgirl

#the harshest winters #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond imagine #dark aemond x reader #dark aemond targaryen #now that we're done with this i'll crawl back into my hole #is this who we are??? is this what we represent???#i pray for the absolution of our collective sins

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0oolookitsme · 3 months

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It's Buzzcut Season, Anyways!

Eeeeekk!!!! Hi Hi everyone!! I hope you are all doing well, here comes the first post of the year! <3

So.. It is my birthday today, and I'm very excited to tell you that I'm introducing to you, another one of my pairings! This a little excerpt from the fic (wip) I'm writing about this chaotic pairing, and I really do hope this gets you as excited about their story, as I am! This was supposed to be up in December but for some reason, I didn't post it?? Anyways, other than that, you shall see more, further on in 2024 :)

Also, shoutout to @cupid-styles and @elioslover for picking my ice hockey!Harry to be the one to get a buzzcut, hahah! My indecisive self (who lowkey wanted you guys to pick him), could've never 💗

All the love always, A.

Verse - NHL Player!Harry x Figure Skater!Y/n (uni era)

Word Count - It's just an excerpt so it's short!

Warnings - None that I can find but if there are any, do tell me and I'll edit them into this!

Y/n is reluctantly trimming Harry's hair when her nose feels funny, and she sneezes. Its good though, that Harry asks for her opinion regarding a change that he would rather appreciate.

Please rb to share! | Masterlist

Y/n sat on her unmade bed, hair unbrushed and messy since she woke up from a 3-hour nap. Her fingers typed away on her laptop, her face showing zero signs of any stress regarding the assignment she's going to have to turn in un-edited.

Probably because of the breakdown she'd had before taking nap. She'd been so stressed that she had drawn blood from her lips and broken two of her nails -- which was rather disappointing to her considering she'd got them done not so long ago in the honour of the upcoming season of winter.

The temperature was still as hot as summer, but half of the world was snowed in, and she wanted the peace of mind that winter brought her; so, she deluded herself into thinking that it was indeed her favourite time of the year.

A silent burp made its way up her throat, as she drank the day-old diet coke she'd been drinking before her meltdown-that-leads-to-an-amazing-nap.

Just as she slurped on the last sip that wasn't anything but melted ice, she heard the door to the flat open and her eyes rose up just in time to catch the sight of a sweaty and out of breath Harry, through the open door of her room.

"Y/n?" He called for her, walking towards her room when she only hummed in response. He passed her an apologetic smile on reaching her doorframe, and she knew he was going to ask something of her that the both of them know she wouldn't be willing to do quite easily.

"I need your help," he grinned at her. "...And Immediately."

She looked at him suspiciously, before deciding to shift her focus back on her assignment, knowing that he would lure her in if she were to continue looking at him.

But Harry was at once kneeling beside the side of bed she was sitting on. With his hands joined, he contorted his face in a way that looked like he was about to cry. "I beg of you, please! If you don't help me right now, my life will be ruined forever!"

Y/n's eyes had fallen into untrusting slits by now as she minimized the document that she had been writing in. "What is it, Harry?" She asked him in a monotonous tone, shutting her laptop as if procrastinating the essay any longer would be a great help.

"Cut my hair."

Instantly her jaw dropped open. Shaking her head, she began reopening her laptop and Harry took a hold of her wrists. "Harry, there's no way!" She yelped as he began making her get off the bed.

"I'm not asking you to give me haircut like Zayn!" He exclaimed, as if that'd ease her. "Just trim it a bit," he shrugged, walking out into the small living-room with Y/n thrashing behind him. She even threw a few hands at him, but he had a feeling that she wasn't as opposed by the idea as she was pretending to.

He pulled out a chair in front of the mirror that, though they had been living in this flat for nearly two months, had yet to be pinned to the wall. "C'mon, you work at a salon -- surely you know how to trim a guy's hair," he teased her, knowing that questioning her abilities would get to her and she'd cut his hair better than any hairdresser ever could.

Looking at her reflection glaring at him through the mirror, he winked at her before bending down to unzip his bag. He pulled out an electric trimmer from inside it and handed it to her, pulling the towel from the coffee table that he had left there earlier in the morning.

Once done draping it over his shoulders, he handed her the trimmer and added a touch of his puppy-dog eyes even though he knew they simply don't work on her.

"Okay. If you end up bald, don't complain then," she grumbled before running her hand through his hair. "Is this sweat or did you wash your hair after practice?" Her face was already contorted in disgust, like she knew he surely couldn't have done the latter.

"Don't you worry, I washed it after practice," he assured her, looking at her as if she should appreciate him.

She turned on the trimmer and held his hair in sections by one of her hands. "Why didn't you go to a salon?" She asked him, trimming the hair on his sides with her mouth parted.

Harry shrugged and immediately retorted when Y/n shrieked, mumbling an apology. "The salon's too far. I don't have the time to get there; got a handful of assignments to turn in before midnight." He told her. "And I mean, saving some money never hurt anyone."

"You do realize that I've put doing my assignment on pause to do this silly shenanigan with you?" Her eyebrows rose up as she fired another question at him. She suppressed a smile when he passed a dimpled-lopsided grin to her. "God, I hate you," she said, and a smile slipped on her lips as she moved to the other side to trim the rest of his hair.

She had no reason to be doing a parttime job at a salon, it wasn't going to help her in the future in any way, but it did help her in the present with its money. The money she got by being apprenticed to a dance company went straight into the flat-bills and some other necessary purchases that she couldn't avoid.

But she wasn't complaining about it. Living among frat people was a nightmare for her. She did have fun with people but being a clean-freak and a morning person didn't match well with the frats. They did love her dearly, but when Harry came in asking if someone would be willing to be his flat mate, everyone had chanted for Y/n. And, when he asked Y/n at the rink, she had quite literally jumped at the opportunity and in the joy of the moment, hugged Harry with a tight grip that still had his heartbeat rise whenever he thought about it.

With her touching his hair, Harry's heart was beating so hard in his chest that he was afraid it was going to break a rib. His eyes never once left her reflection in the mirror, not with the way she was being so careful and serious. Her lips had parted without her knowing, and she wasn't even blinking often enough.

That was when Harry saw a hair-strand fall in her face, and her face scrunch up in a way it does when she's about to sneeze. He saw as she turned to sneeze in her elbow -- a habit that she still hadn't gotten rid of. He shifted his gaze down on his hands in his lap, to prevent her catching him staring at her.

When Y/n caught her breath after the sneeze, her eyes grew wide. Her hand began shaking as she brought the other hand to cover her mouth, looking at his head in horror. She wasn't sure if she should laugh or begin spewing apologies and decided on the latter one.

But as she opened her mouth, Harry looked at her. "Should I just buzz it off?" He questioned her and thought that she had paled at the thought of him going bald. "I mean, the match season is finally over. I don't have anything to do but study, do my parttime and of course practice hockey." He shrugged explaining his point of view, looking at her to help him decided.

"S-sure! I mean, you'd look good with any-any type of haircut." She was shaking and stuttering, but Harry was too lost in his train of thoughts to question her. "A-and its buzzcut season, anyways!"

That seemed to be helpful for Harry. He smiled at her, "Shave it off, then. I'm basically on vacation from tomorrow... and I guess I'd really appreciate a change like this!" He was back to grinning and Y/n's sweat was beginning to cool off.

She imagined sitting with Harry on a sofa on some ordinary-night with her feet in his lap like he were her closest friend and telling him about today -- a movie playing on the lowest volume possible in the background. She stopped herself before she could get lost thinking about his reaction and mess up even his buzzcut.

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kiirotoao · 2 years

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Byler and Confrontation

I feel like I’m stating the obvious, but there’s really something about the way that Mike and Will argue that make their personalities and thoughts stand out. So much.

And I’m not even talking about the “It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!” or the “And us?” “We’re friends! We’re friends.”

The thought that struck me today was much more meta but still just as revealing, in my opinion.

Truly, when we look at the Byler fights, they’re fighting, right? They’re mad at each other. Then how do their fights by concept manage to make them seem so compatible? Why does their arguing give off the impression of love despite no outright, “I love you” to be heard? Why do we as the audience root for them to stick together despite their moments of splitting apart? Well, I think that a lot of it comes down to who Mike and Will are in regards to confrontation.

For one, Mike hates confrontation. Fights in general. We focus on him mouthing, “stop it!” when Billy and Steve fight. While Dustin, Lucas, and Max are pleading similarly, I find it interesting how the camera focuses on Mike when the fighting gets more intense.

Then of course there’s Mike covering his ears when he’s scared, no doubt a reflex to loud sounds and particularly yells, such as Will screaming.

We also very quickly see this in the shoot out scene in season 4 when Mike panics and covers his head.

And throughout the show, as much as his expression is funny, Mike clearly shows distaste towards arguing, especially if what people are saying to him seem pointless, sudden, unfounded, or wrong.

Mike is a leader as well as a team player and defender, and he doesn’t want to hurt people. Yes, he does argue and confront, not denying that, but time and time again, we see that he doesn’t do it unless he’s prompted.

Now, there’s Will. Will lives confrontation. His main propensity in the beginning of season 4 centers around calling out people for being ridiculous. That goes for Mike, El, and even Jonathan.

Tied to his confrontational attitude comes sass. I won’t try to fit every moment into this post (but I’ll certainly make an entire separate post on Will’s lovable sass haha), but one of my favorite examples is in season 1, believe it or not, when Will replies to Joyce’s question on why he uses fireballs: “Well, yeah, to burn them to a crisp.”

Even though that isn’t a personal confrontation, we see that Will is able to characterize his cleric with sass and boldness, sweetly smiling at his fictional enemies’ demise. I think that Will’s fearlessness is overlooked, subsumed by his constant turmoil, but truly, this boy packs a punch, and he isn’t afraid to face people with honesty.

And to look even further in Mike and Will’s histories with confrontation, both of them have had it pretty rough with their families. Namely, their dads.

In seasons 1 and 2, we see it illustrated through the Wheeler family dinners how Mike has lived his fair share of being shut down by his dad.

Mike doesn’t fight with his dad. Doesn’t confront. He makes an attempt each time to reason with his parents, but his dad ultimately shuts him down. So Mike either walks away or sits and stays silent.

Will, on the other hand, we don’t see with Lonnie explicitly, thank goodness. But what we do see is him overhearing Lonnie and Joyce fighting. In this flashback, we learn that Lonnie never does anything Will likes, and Jonathan encourages Will not to pretend to enjoy that poor treatment.

And while Will seems to be somewhat naturally quiet, I think that there’s also a spirit of quiet indignation that he’s rightfully and righteously grown through moments like these.

So, all of this to say, Mike is non-confrontational while Will is confrontational. That’s how they’ve been built as characters.

So how does this play into Byler? Well, look no further than their arguments in season 3 chapter 3 and season 4 chapter 2. The non-confrontational Mike meets the confrontationist Will. Things go according to character: Will is calling Mike out on his behavior and ignorance and Mike is leveling it and bearing it as he lets Will talk.

But then, both times they fight, the canvas is flipped. Mike ends up being the final word while Will is left speechless.

These reactions are heartbreaking. They’re supposed to be. They show Will’s defeat and Mike’s regret. They show how much their words affect each other and actively change the way they normally face confrontation.

They could have brushed each other off, in fact, they both had the opportunity in both fights to let the other leave (Will could have biked off without another word from Mike and Lucas in season 3 and Will could have let Mike continue looking for El in season 4). But they didn’t let each other leave. They engaged with each other and made known what was on their hearts in the moment.

So what make Mike and Will so important to each other is that they take each other’s words seriously, to the point that they aren’t afraid to be vulnerable and show each other what makes them upset, upset enough to respectively gain or lose their air of non/confrontation. And even though they don’t say “I’m saying this because I love you” outright, it’s clear that they mean as such because they’re ultimately trying to better each other and understand each other in any way they can, raw and hurtful as it is.

So maybe at first glance, this sounds toxic. Why would I call their raw and hurtful arguing positive and bettering and basically a big, unsaid “I love you?” Well, the thing is that Mike and Will don’t continue arguing. Notice their reactions after each one:

They know that they aren’t being themselves when they argue - they know! After both fights, Will falls into somber reflection, and Mike hastens to apologize.

And what gets me is that fact that the canvas of confrontation flips for their apologies, too. Confrontationist Will takes the pain but the non-confrontational Mike initiates the apologies. Both times. And suddenly, Mike having the final word and Will being left speechless isn’t sad anymore. It’s quite the opposite, actually.

What’s even sweeter is how we see them grow from season 3 to season 4. Where the argument is largely ignored in season 3 because of the Mind Flayer, in season 4, they address their argument and explicitly conclude that they want to be friends. “Best friends.”

So despite the emotional damage they inflict on each other, they come together by the end of it, closer than ever. They want to realign their relationship that’s thrown out of equilibrium. They want to stick together. This proves to me that they have undeniable love for each other and an integral bond (and I don’t know about you, but I think integrity is a major sign of relationship compatibility).

At the end of the day, even without fully looking at what they say in their confronting one another, you can see it in the intimate concept of their emotional separation followed by faithful rectification; they love each other. They know each other. Even at their lowest, even though they face confrontation so differently, they ultimately want to support each other. They pursue each other and choose to stand beside each other.

So yeah. If you ask me, Byler is endgame.

Thank you for coming to my completely unprompted, brainrot-induced TED talk lmao

#I didn’t even talk about the romantic undertones behind each fight #but I don’t even have to #byler is endgame #byler #stranger things #stranger things analysis #byler analysis #mike wheeler #will byers #byler brainrot

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pterodactyl-hater · 3 months

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𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰

・❥・ You had no clue he was alive, but he didn’t know that

・❥・word count: 2k

・❥・warnings: mentions of death, mentions of past sexual abuse, ANGST, LOOSELY based off one scene from tsitp, my own hc of pre-vamp Astarion

・❥・ Has anyone else seen that one tsitp edit to Sign of the Times? No? Also it occurred to me that now 2/3 fics I’ve posted on this platform are about vampires, lord I fear I have a type, also also, let’s just pretend Astarion can remember his life pre-vamp, just pretend for me thank yewwwww

You adored your best friend more than words could describe. Anyone could tell how you admired him, just from how you looked at him. Astarion had always been very handsome, you struggled to look away from his gorgeously tanned skin, and his platinum curls. Your eyes caught on the strong curve of his nose and the way the sun highlighted his brown eyes. But he was more than just his appearance. He was clever and too charming for his own good.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Astarion would ask, his voice tinged with a teasing playfulness.

“Like what?”

“Like that.” ‘Like you’re in love with me’ is what he failed to say, but the message rang clear. The air thickened. You shrugged, eyes never breaking from his. He smiled and shook his head, the slightest bit of pink forming on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. For all that you adored him, Astarion would worship you.

Then one day, you stopped seeing Astarion. He didn’t show up to the cafe you two had planned on meeting at, perhaps he had fallen ill. He stopped showing up to work, a spontaneous vacation he had forgotten to tell you of in advance, possibly. He wasn’t home, everything had been just as it was left no longer than a week ago. A thin layer of dust covered the house, completely undisturbed. Another week had passed before you got closure.

“This is (y/n) (l/n)?” A large man asked. He had knocked at your door late at night, a heavy hood over his eyes. You hesitantly nodded in confirmation. “You were close with Astarion Ancunin correct?” He asked.

“Correct.” You replied slowly, your curiosity peaked, along with your worry, anything could have happened to your best friend, he could be anywhere.

“I’m here on behalf of Cazador Szarr, to inform you of Astarion’s passing.” He nodded coolly as if he hadn’t just delivered the worst news one could deliver.

“How?” Your voice was quieter than you wished it to be.

“He was murdered on Cazador’s estate. We’ve been unable to determine who killed him, but we are working diligently to bring him to justice.” The hooded man assured. Tears welled in your eyes, your throat closed in on itself. You nodded quickly and closed the door once the man had left.

You never saw Astarion’s body. It was a morbid thought, sure. To wish to see the mutilated corpse of your best friend was a sentiment not shared by many. You assumed his body had already been handed off, most likely to his parents. Oh Gods, you wonder if his mother has seen the cold mangled body of her young son. You’d have to check on her eventually. You wonder if he was handled with care. Did the hooded man carry Astarion in his arms to pass him onto his father? Or was he perhaps shipped in a cramped box, tossed on their doorstep with no regard to the remains of the young boy, who had so much life ahead of him?

You lost track of how long you mourned. You would never see him again. You’d never hear his voice, look into his beautiful brown eyes. You missed him so bad it would keep you up at night, your head hurt from staying awake so long, yet your chest hurt from the idea of falling asleep and having a singular moment of not thinking of him.

After a while, you finally started to allow yourself to rest. After that, you began letting yourself enjoy things. You started getting invited to large parties hosted by Cazador, as some effort to apologize for the tragedy that had befallen your closest friend on his property. A cold case as it had been declared after almost a month. You attended a few, you couldn’t help but be made uncomfortable by the atmosphere, the guests seemed off, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched every time you set foot near Cazador’s palace, for no particular reason. Perhaps it was Astarion’s ghost keeping watch over you.

It had been your first time leaving Baldur’s Gate in years. Except for a short trip to your and Astarion’s parents you had taken a few weeks after his death, you hadn’t left in the many years since his untimely demise. You still remember that trip vividly, the smell of the countryside, and how everyone seemed to walk on eggshells to avoid speaking of the no-longer-present boy.

You weren’t doing anything particularly important on this trip, simply looking around at whatever there was to find. You had found your way to a busy market, scents of fresh bread and lavender and bright silky fabrics overwhelmed your senses when one thing caught your attention. A head of platinum curls. The head turned towards you and you swear you felt your heart drop into your stomach.

It was him, Astarion, undoubtedly. He’s changed, barely recognizable if you hadn’t known him like the back of your hand. You felt like you would be sick, seeing the dead boy clearly not dead. His once sun-kissed skin was now a ghastly shade of white. Cinnamon brown eyes now ran a shade of red, dark as blood. It was jarring, seeing the boy you once loved so suddenly in such a vastly different state. Yet, his nose remained the same, as did his high cheekbones, his hair hadn’t changed one bit, except perhaps it was a bit messier now.

“Astarion!” You yelled before you could stop yourself. Your feet carried you to him as if it was second nature to be as close to him as possible. “Astarion!” His head turned towards you, his ruby red eyes giving you a once over before widening in surprise. You saw him take a step back, like a scared dog. You stopped running, only a few steps away from him. “How? How are you here right now?”

“I’m sorry who are you?” He asks. His eyes tell exactly what his mouth won’t, the same way they always have. He knows exactly who you are.

“Don’t play dumb.” You start, he flinches away. “You know who I am.” A few people look over at him, friends you presume. You inspect each of them, what a team he’s gathered. One of the few, a rather tall tiefling walks up to you with her fists clenched. As she approached it was like heat radiated off of her. She was about to open her mouth when a man who seemed rather keen on minding his own business stopped her. She continued glaring. “We need to talk.” You hissed to the man in front of you.

“Whatever it is that you want, I can’t provide.” His voice shook ever so slightly. Anger rose in you, he had left for 200 years and been presumed dead only to reappear and act as if he was scared of you.

“Astarion.” You said, warning in your tone. Silence hangs in the air for an uncomfortable amount of time. “We need to talk.” You repeated. “Alone.” You could only imagine how you looked to his friends at the moment, a strange person running towards Astarion and insisting on privacy for a conversation. You hardly cared at the moment, too lost in inspecting every curve and line of your best friend’s face. After a second he looked towards the group and nodded them away wordlessly, he held the gaze of the tiefling a second longer.

“Well, guide the way.” He said in a faux confident manner. You huffed and turned on your heel. You lead him away from the bustle of the market, somewhere you two were ensured privacy. You found yourself near a murky pond, shaded by trees, and inhabited by large bullfrogs. Just as it became most important for you to speak, you felt your throat close up. Your mouth ran dry as you looked at him.

“I thought you were dead.” Your voice held a mixture of anger and hurt. You felt tears sting your eyes and you tried to blink them away.

“You’ve done quite enough, you don’t need to lie to me now.” He said. His eyes were wider now, his lips were pressed in a thin line. In stark contrast to the confident way he had held himself around his companions.

“I- what?” You asked breathlessly.

“I said you shouldn’t lie.”

“I’m not.”

“You have some nerve.” Astarion started. He pointed an accusatory finger at you, his face now flushed red. “Coming after me after Gods know how long, only to pretend you didn’t see me at my worst? When I was nothing more than Cazador’s spawn. You disregarded me then, why do you think you have the right to crawl back to me now.”

You felt hot tears dare to fall out of your eyes at his seemingly unwarranted anger. He looked at you like you were nothing but a monster. “Cazador’s spawn?” You repeated quietly. “You mean you- you’re-” You sputtered. You felt like the air had been punched from your chest.

“A vampire?” He scoffed. “You really should stop acting clueless, it’s hard to watch.”

“I am clueless.” You shot back immediately. “I had no idea, I-I thought you were dead. I heard the news that you had been murdered.” Tears fell down your cheeks and dripped down your chin before you could stop them. You sucked in a harsh breath. “If I had known you were alive I would’ve fought for you.” Your hands reached out to his chest, you didn’t know if you were trying to push him away or bring him closer.

“What?”

“Fought for you! I would’ve fought for you, through everything. I would’ve been there for you!” You sobbed.

“I thought you knew!” His hands found yours on his chest. His skin was ice cold and you almost hissed from the temperature change. “Cazador had told me you knew."

"You think I would've just abandoned you?" You cried, gripping onto the fabric of his shirt.

"You were at the parties!"

"And I had no idea you were there!" You insisted. Your salty tears clung to your lashes, and your throat hurt from yelling. "You should've told me!"

"How? How would I have told you?" His crimson eyes bore into yours.

"I don't know! I just wish I could've been there for you! I would've helped you, no matter what." Your voice broke off as you cried. Astarion didn't cry, he barely made an expression as he looked at you. “I’m sorry.” You whispered, your voice quivering. “I’m so sorry.” He still didn’t make much of an expression.

“You should go.” He said after a beat of silence.

“W-what?”

“I said you should go, anywhere but here.”

“I’m not leaving you again, Astarion.”

“Well I don’t want you here.” He insisted.

“Why not?” Your voice raised.

“Because if you stay any longer I think I’ll fall back in love with you.” His voice was quiet and collected. Your voice died in your throat.

“Fall back in love?” You murmured, as if speaking it too loudly would make it untrue. “You were in love with me?”

He ran his hand through his hair and looked away from you. He took a step back. “Yes.” He hesitated. “I was. Which made it all the more heartbreaking when Cazador,” he spit the name with enough venom to burn right through you. “told me that he had told you about my… transformation, offered me to you as a warm, or cold, body, and you declined. He said you simply didn’t wish to see me anymore, that you were glad to never speak to me again.” He inhaled a shaky breath. “Which is a?”

“Lie.” You finished for him. “I was told that you had died. Cazador had one of his men tell me you had been murdered. I was too lost in grief to question any further. Clearly I should have.” You laughed humorlessly. “I mourned you. Everyday. For years.”

“You did?”

“I did.” You sighed. “And I did it because I loved you. With everything I had.” Awkward stillness came once again. “Can I kiss you-” You were cut off by feeling Astarion’s cold hands grab your cheeks softly and pull you into a short, tender kiss.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. He laughed airily.

“What are you apologizing for?”

“For not being there.” He took a deep breath.

“Well… you’re here now.”

“And I don’t plan on leaving.” You finished

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 #bg3 x reader

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blooming-violets · 11 months

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Hold My Hand (sequel to Bring Your Kids to Work Day)

[tasm!peter x fem!reader]

Summary: [link to part one] The trauma of a fire scars more than just the flesh. A sequel to the “Dragging themselves along the ground” prompt.

A/N: This is for @moonyslove78 only but I suppose you can read it too if you’d like.

Six months.

That’s how long it had been since the incident.

Not fire.

Incident.

You couldn’t say the word “fire” anymore. You couldn’t think of it. You couldn’t hear it. That word no longer existed in the English language. Peter knew that. Anything involving the incident was off limits. The last time he had mentioned it was when he asked if you wanted to attend Harrison’s funeral. The way your eyes widened, blurring out of focus, the way your hands started to tremble, the way your breath caught in your throat, made him immediately retract that question. You had been transported back to a time that he couldn’t see, a memory he could only imagine from what was told to him, and one he wished he could steal from your brain to claim as his own. He knew he couldn’t lift your burden. He couldn’t take on your trauma.

It didn’t stop him from trying, though.

Peter was supposed to fix things. He was a protector. He was supposed to keep you safe. He had saved your body from the burning building but your mind had been left behind. It had incinerated in the flames like the charred, blackened corpse of Harrison.

He attended the funeral on your behalf. It was a closed casket. Obviously. Some bodies are not meant to be shown after death. Peter had smiled politely and sent your regards to his family. He tried not to stare too long at the young man’s weeping sister. She looked no older than thirteen. She gripped tightly onto her mother’s hand. He received his own flashbacks of Gwen’s younger brothers’ clinging to their mother, unable to fully comprehend the weight of what was occurring before them.

If he had to pretend like the fire never happened, for your sake, then he would do his best. The weeks after, any newspaper article, any internet post, any television story was banned from your apartment. He made no mention of what happened. The only time it was referenced was when you needed to have the burns, seared into your skin, looked after. Your right hand was no longer able to open and extend fully from the scarring on your palm and fingers. You would have permanent scarring along your arm, as well. They were a constant visual reminder of what happened that afternoon and he often found you with your right arm hidden behind your back to keep it out of view.

You hated the heat now. Even throughout the winter you kept your air conditioning on. Peter spent his winter with a persistent, unshakable cold from being constantly exposed to the frigid air. Anything to keep you happy. He tried to keep your days as normal as possible. You didn’t like to go outside because you felt like you had to be on constant alert around other people but you hated the feeling of being trapped indoors. Peter found a happy compromise by breaking open the lock to your apartment roof and letting you find solace outdoors without the wandering eyes of curious strangers. He hauled two old armchairs up there that May no longer needed. It gave you two some place to sit and stare down at the city street.

You were up there now. You always were. During the day, his duty was to keep your mind occupied. During the night, his duty was to hold you tightly for every night terror that plagued your screaming mind. He would fend off the horrors and keep you safe any way he could.

“You can’t keep pretending like it never happened,” May whispered across the small, round table to her nephew. She had stopped by this morning to drop off leftovers and check in on how things were going. She was appalled at him when he told her the truth. “This is no life for her, Peter.”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair, and staring out your kitchen window. She had no need to whisper. You couldn’t hear her up on the roof.

“She’s not ready,” he replied.

“She’ll never be ready. No one is ever ready to face their trauma. It’s reaching the six month anniversary. It’s time you started talking about it. She needs to get it out,” May reached a hand across the table to pat his arm. “When Ben left us, I wanted to pretend like it was all a terrible dream. I wanted to disappear into the safest parts of my mind where he still existed and block out the rest of the world. But you can’t heal like that. To heal, you must talk about it. You have to get her talking, Peter, before she slips away forever. She needs you to listen to her and hold her hand while she battles her demons. She doesn’t need you to play pretend with fake smiles and act like everything is wonderful.”

Peter closed his eyes. The only time he was able to heal from Gwen was when he started talking about it. May had been the one to listen. She had been the one to hold his hand and guide him through the loss. He should be strong enough to pass that on to the person he loved.

“I’m scared,” he mumbled. “I’m scared it will hurt her too much.”

“It will,” she replied. “It will be painful. It will be hard. But she needs to face what happened. She can’t live on the roof forever, honey. She needs your help to find her way again.”

He gave a solemn nod, “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Hey,” Peter whispered as he came up behind you.

The sun was starting to set over the buildings. Spring was bringing in warmer weather but dusk was still chilly. You wore nothing but short sleeves as you started out into the horizon. When he looked at you now, you felt empty to him, like your very essence had been stolen from your body. His eyes traveled down to your right arm. The skin was wrinkled and leathery. Your fist was partially closed as it rested against the ledge you leaned on. He reached out to place his hand over your closed one.

“It’s getting chilly out here. Do you want my coat?”

When you didn’t respond, he shrugged off his coat and tucked it around your shoulders.

“How are you feeling?”

Still nothing. He might as well be speaking to a mannequin. He took a deep breath to brace himself for his next sentence. His arm reached out in front of you to subconsciously block your path should you decide to suddenly throw yourself off the building.

“I just got off the phone with Jenny. She told me all about the kids.”

Peter watched carefully for your reaction. After May left, he made a call to your former coworker. It had been too long since he checked on Ollie and Ellie. He spoke to Jenny for over an hour. She told him all about her kids’ healing process. They seemed to be doing alright. Ollie was completely back to his usual self and Ellie had her good and bad days. Both kids had been asking about you for months now.

You blinked a few times as the news set in. Your head tilted to the side.

“I don’t know a Jenny,” you mumbled under your breath.

Peter shuffled closer, standing his ground, “Yes. You do. She’s the mother of Ollie and Ellie. You worked with her. She shared a desk beside you.”

Your shoulders tensed and you shook your head, “No. I don’t know those people. You’re confused.”

He sighed, stepping forward to gently capture your cheek in his palm, turning your head to face him, “Look at me. You know them. Ellie’s been asking for you. She wants to see you.”

You whimpered, trying to turn your head away from him, but he held you steady, “No…I don’t…”

“Yes.” Peter’s voice was firm but his eyes shone with tears. “You know them. You saved them. From the fire.”

You flinched, stumbling back out of his grasp, “No. Stop.”

“You were in a fire. You were trapped in a burning building.”

Your hands clasped against your ears and you squeezed your eyes shut, “Stop it, Peter!”

He gently pulled your arms back down to his side, wrapping them around his waist, “No. You stop it. You were trapped inside a building with two children. Ellie and Ollie. You took care of them. You got them out. You saved them. It happened. It wasn’t pretend. It wasn’t a dream. It was real.”

Tears streamed down your face. You tighten your grip around him, burying your face into the crook of his neck, “No…you saved them…”

“Not me,” Peter whispered. He nuzzled his face against the side of your head, holding you protectively in his arms. “I didn’t know where you were. You got Ellie to safety. You called me. You told me where to go. All I did was break a wall. You saved those kids. And those kids want to see you again. Jenny told me Ellie talks about you every night. She’s…struggling with what happened. I think seeing you again would really help her. You’re the only other person who understands what that little girl went through. I think you can help each other.”

You were silent for a long time. He didn’t press any further for now. Baby steps. You cried softly into his shirt while he stroked your hair. He whispered how much he loved you and how strong he thought you were into your ear. He waited until you were ready.

You took a shaky breath followed by a coughing spell. Your lungs were weaker after the fire. Your voice often suffered from hoarseness and you would fall into coughing fits every so often. He waited until you were finished before pulling back slightly, grasping onto your shoulders, and looking into your watery eyes.

You were still in there. Somewhere.

He would find you and pull you free.

“Please,” Peter rested his forehead against yours. “I need you to do this with me. I want you to meet those kids. I need you to start healing. If you can’t start healing for yourself then start with helping a sweet, scared, little girl with her own healing. They need you. I need you. I’m afraid you’re slipping away from me.”

You lifted your good hand up to his cheek and wiped away a tear. He hadn’t even realized he had been crying. You gave him a soft smile. It was the first one he saw since the day he pulled you from the flames.

“I’m not going anywhere, P. I’m here. I’m not leaving you. Promise.”

“It was so nice of you to agree to this,” Jenny led you and Peter into their family's town house.

You two agreed to babysit the kids while their parents went out for a quick dinner. It was about a month after your rooftop talk. Peter wanted to bring you more back down to earth before exposing you to the children. You weren’t in a perfect place but you were coherent enough to not frighten them. Jenny and her husband were aware of your situation. They agreed to let you watch them for only an hour or two while they were just down the street. If there were any troubles, they would be back in less than five minutes. Jenny was struggling with getting through to Ellie. According to her, Ollie’s excitement over meeting Spider-Man overtook any fear he had from being trapped in a bathroom during the fire but Ellie was silent. She was withdrawn and short tempered. She suffered from nightmares and bed wetting. Jenny was worried she couldn’t reach her daughter as much as she’d like. That’s where you could come in. You were there. You knew what she went through. You could answer the child’s questions better than anyone.

“They’re in the playroom. They’ve already eaten dinner and are in their pjs. You won’t need to put them to bed. We can do that when we get home. Just…play with them and keep them safe. I’m sure Ollie will talk your ear off.” Jenny paused, mulling over something in her mind. “You know, before the fire, it was always Ellie who never stopped talking. Now…well…now it seems like Ollie feels the need to pick up the slack and fill her silence. They sleep in the same bed every night. He wants to protect her. I won’t let him sleep with his Spider-Man mask on so he keeps it tucked under his pillow instead. He said it helps keep Ellie safe from the nightmares.”

Peter glanced over at you. Your jaw was locked tight and your body was stiff. Talking about the fire was still difficult for you. Hearing so much about the twins was starting to overload your emotions. He wondered if this was a mistake. It might be too soon.

“It’s okay,” he leaned over to whisper in your ear. “Hold my hand. I’m right here.”

You took his hand and gave it a tight squeeze. He tried to imagine his own strength leaving his body and entering into you where your hands connected.

Jenny paused at the door to the playroom to give the two lovers a sad smile, “Like we said earlier, if you need us to come home early, please don’t hesitate to ask. We know this is a big deal. If Ellie asks anything you don’t feel comfortable answering, just tell her to ask us when we get home. You can talk openly with them. Their therapist says that it’s good to speak the truth instead of sugar coating everything. They might be young but their trauma is real and they should be able to talk about it however they need to. They don’t need adults to downplay what they went through.” She steadied herself and put on a smile for show, opening the playroom door. “Look who’s here, guys!”

Ollie looked up from his spot on the floor where he was building a block tower and smiled, “I know you! You gave us lollipops.”

Lollipops. Out of everything that happened that afternoon, that’s how he remembered you. Peter almost laughed at the beautiful innocence of it but held it in. He could feel you tensing up beside him. He gave your hand a squeeze.

“You must be Ollie,” he stepped in to cover for you while you better composed yourself. Seeing the twins again must have brought back a flood of memories. “My name’s Peter. I’m going to help watch you guys tonight, if that’s okay with you.” They had only ever met Spider-Man, not Peter. He was much less exciting without a mask.

Ollie looked at him suspiciously, “I dunno. Do you like Spider-Man? What about Paw Patrol?”

Peter smiled. From the corner of his eye he saw you give a tug of a smile too.

“I’m Spider-Man’s second biggest fan. I heard you’re his number one. I don’t know much about Paw Patrol but I’m sure you could teach me everything you know.”

Ollie beamed, “Then you can stay with us. He likes Spider-Man, Ellie!”

He looked over to his sister. Ellie hadn’t moved from her spot curled up on the couch. She was staring up at the ceiling with a picture book resting over her chest. She hadn’t made any acknowledgment towards them since they entered. It was like she was stuck in a daydream. It was a look Peter had become all too familiar with these past months.

Ollie waved his hand at her, “Ellie! Hello? I’m talkin’ to you.” His tiny shoulders sagged when he got no response. “She’s too busy thinking right now. She’ll be back later.”

From beside Peter, you finally stirred to life, “It’s okay. I get lost thinking too much, too. We can wait until she finds her way back.” You dug into your pocket and pulled out two lollipops. “I knew I couldn’t show up today empty handed. Would you like some dessert?”

Ollie ran over to you to snatch one out of your hand as you offered it to him, “Thank you!” He looked to his mother for approval before digging into the treat.

Jenny sighed, “I think we’ll be off. We’ll be just down the street. You have both our numbers. Oliver, you be on your best behavior. Show your guests where everything is in the house if they need anything. Ellie, darling…” She walked over to kiss her daughter’s forehead. “You be good, sweetie. Mommy will be back really soon. If you need me for anything, you ask for the phone to call me, okay?” She turned around to smile at Peter. “Thank you. We’ll text you in about twenty minutes to make sure everything is going well.”

He smiled back, “We’ll be fine. You guys have fun.”

He watched as they left the room and he listened to the front door click locked behind them. He turned his attention to you. Your muscles had lost some of their tension but you still stood rigidly beside him, clinging onto his hand. Your eyes were trained on Ellie as she stared up at the ceiling. He followed your gaze. The young girl’s blonde hair was splayed out over the couch cushion. She looked lost in thought. It was nearly the exact same look you had worn for the last six months. The fire had aged the child faster than anyone was prepared for. Her eyes held the secrets and horrors only you could understand.

Peter gave your shoulder a nudge. He nodded in Ellie’s direction, signaling with his eyes that you should go talk to her. A look of panic flashed across your face. He brushed his thumb over your hand.

“It’s okay,” he silently mouthed. “You can do this.”

You took a deep breath and slipped your hand from his. He watched as you slowly made your way over to Ellie and kneel down beside her.

“Hi,” your voice was soft and gentle. Peter could detect the hint of sadness in it. “You don’t have to look at me if you don’t want to. I’m sure seeing my face might bring back a lot of painful memories. I have them, too. The painful memories. Sometimes they feel so big that I feel like I can’t breathe and they’re choking all the air out of my lungs. Other times they make me feel lost inside my own mind. Like I’m wandering a dark hallway forever and can’t find my way out. You don’t have to look at me, Ellie, if it makes you feel like that, but I want you to know that I’m here. For you. I’m here for you. And I will sit quietly beside you until you feel ready.��

You sat down with your back leaning against the couch. Peter gave you a soft smile, his eyes trying to convey how proud of you he felt.

“I was saved by Spider-Man, you know.” Ollie popped the lollipop out of his mouth and tugged at Peter’s hand. “He punched through a wall and flew through the air with us. He kissed Ellie on the mouth to make her come back to life.”

Peter grinned and plopped down onto the ground in front of him, “I don’t think he was kissing her, Ol. He was probably giving her CPR. That’s when someone helps blow air into someone else’s lungs when they need help breathing.”

Ollie mimicked his crossed legged position on the ground, “Oh. I never heard of CRP before. The lollipop girl was there, too. Spider-Man didn’t like when she wouldn’t open her eyes.”

Your back was straighter than usual as Peter carefully watched you from the corner of his eye. Your breaths were getting heavy but you seemed to be able to keep them under control.

He smiled over at Ollie, “Spider-Man likes to save people. I’m sure he was just worried that someone he was supposed to save wasn’t feeling very well.”

Ellie shot up from her spot on the couch. Her hair was knotted in the back and stuck out at crazy angles as if she’d been laying in that spot for a very long time. She turned dark eyes to glare at Peter.

“Spider-Man is bad at his job,” she huffed. “He didn’t come soon enough. We almost got dead like that one man. He should of helped us sooner. I hate him. He’s not a hero. He’s a bad guy.”

Before Peter could speak, you shifted in your spot to turn around and face the young girl. He watched as you studied her face in silence for a bit. Ellie wasn’t the same person she was before the fire. She was hardened. Angry. You could relate.

You reached your hand out and placed it gently over hers, “It’s not Spider-Man’s fault. There were a lot of people who needed saving that day. He came right when he needed to. I think we made a pretty good team before he got there, don’t you think? You held my hand the whole time even when you were scared. You stayed right by my side and we made it all the way across the office to find Ollie. It was you who reminded me to go get him, Ellie. You helped save yourself and your brother just as much as Spider-Man did.”

Her little face softened and she slumped back into the cousins of the couch, “It was too scary. I didn’t like it.”

“Me either,” you sighed. “I really didn’t like it. It hurt and it was scary and I wish it never happened. But it did. It happened and that’s okay. Sometimes things happen that are out of our control. We just keep pushing forward and doing our best with what we have. I think we did the best job we could have in that situation. I’m so proud of what we were able to do. Look at us. We made it. We’re alive. Everyone who was locked in that bathroom is still here in this room.”

“...Not Spider-Man,” Ollie spoke under his breath, not wanting to interrupt their conversation but still wanting to throw in his two cents.

You grinned, glancing over your shoulder at him, “You’d be surprised, kid.”

Peter laughed. He knew what you had said would go over both children’s heads. The sound of his laughter made you laugh along with him. It was the first time in half a year that he got to hear that beautiful sound. It flooded his body with a warm light and brought joyful tears to his eyes. He quickly tried to brush them away before anyone would notice but you were already staring straight at him.

“I love you,” you silently mouthed in his direction.

This was working. Seeing the twins was doing more good than it was harm. He gave a deep sigh and released months of pent up anxiety.

“What’s so funny?” Ellie asked, glancing between the two of you.

You chuckled to yourself, “Nothing. You babies are just too cute.”

“We are not babies!” Both Ellie and Ollie shouted at the same time.

The twins glanced at each other in shock and then fell into their own fit of laughter. Ollie leapt onto the couch to tackle his sister, jumping on top of her, and smothering her with rough hugs.

“Hey, cut it out!” She cried through her laughs. “That tickles!”

Peter scooted closer to you. His fingers grazed lightly down your spine until they rested on your hip. You turned your attention to him. There was something softer about your edges now. A part of who you used to be was returning back into your soul as your walls slowly came down.

“How you doing?” He spoke softly so only you could hear.

You smiled, a genuine one, and nodded, “I’m okay. Really. I’m okay.”

“I knew you would be,” he leaned over to press a quick kiss to your temple. “I never doubted you for a second.”

Ollie leaped off the couch towards the two of you without warning. Peter managed to grab him midair before he crash landed into your side. In one, singular, swoop he tucked the boy under his arm like a football and jumped to his feet, spinning them both around to the sound of over-tired giggles.

“Pretend that I’m Spidey!” He shouted. “I’m swinging through the air with my web shooters. Pew! Pew!” He mimicked the motion of Spider-Man shooting off his webs with his hands.

“Alright, Spidey, a bad guy just robbed a bank. It’s your job to stop him before he gets away!” Peter held Ollie in his arms and lifted him to the ceiling to make it look like he was crawling upside down.

Ollie squealed with joy and scurried across to the wall where Peter pretended to slowly lower him by some imaginary webs.

“There’s the robbers,” Ollie whispered to new best friend. He pointed to you and his sister. “They have the pirate jewels and we gotta get ‘em back.”

You gave Ellie a glance to see if she was willing to play along. She brushed her hair out of her eyes with a look of determination and rolled behind you.

“Hurry,” she shouted. “We have to make a run for it! Spider-Man is coming!” She leapt to her feet and held up an imaginary bag. “You’ll never catch us! We have a secret hide-a-away. Quick, let’s go.” Ellie grabbed your hand and the two of you took off out the playroom and down the hall.

What followed could be considered the cutest Spider-Man chase Peter had ever participated in. He easily held Ollie up while he jumped him from wall to wall and swung from Peter’s arms. You and Ellie threw crumpled paper balls and stuffed animals at them as they tried to approach. Peter would weave and dodge with the child in his arms, even going so far as to perfectly tuck and roll with him to avoid the attack of a flying stuffed pig. If the kids were any older than they might feel the need to question where those reflexes came from but, being so young, it only enhanced their already vivid imaginations. There was out of breath panting, delighted screams, and enough laughter to heal every damaged, broken heart under this roof.

By the time Jenny and her husband came home, the four of you were tucked under a freshly made blanket fort while Peter told stories about the adventures of Spider-Man that he “made up” as he went along. The twins were both snuggled to either side of you, Ellie’s hand clutched tightly in your scarred one, as their wide eyes took in everything Peter was saying. You rested your cheek against the top of her head. She didn’t need to talk in depth about her experience in the fire. Not now, at least. All she needed was a little reassurance that it happened and that it was terrible but that she got through it. Seeing your face was the reminder she needed to know that things would be okay in the end. If you could be okay, the person who kept her safe and stayed by her side during the events, then maybe she could be okay too. What Ellie didn’t know is that was exactly what you were searching for, as well. Seeing Ellie be able to laugh and play like a normal child put everything into perspective. Trauma can break a person but it can also build you up from the ashes. You can come out stronger than you ever thought possible. You were no longer just a normal person. You were a survivor. You survived. It took everything inside of you to get there but you did it.

A blanket fort full of people who had beaten the odds and survived tragedy, all being able to laugh together, was a perfect representation of that.

It wasn’t the first time Peter had stood between a child and death, it wouldn’t be the last, but this time was special. This time you were there beside him. He had a flash of the future, one where you were older and holding a baby of your own in your arms while you both cheered on Ellie and Ollie as they graduated from high school with their entire life ahead of them. The thought made him smile.

“Well, isn’t this a happy sight!” Jenny explained as she peeked her head in under the fort.

Ollie leapt up, “Mommy!” He threw his arms around his mother in a big hug.

“It’s too soon,” Ellie complained. “We’re not ready! I don’t want them to go yet. I want them to stay.”

“It’s already past your bedtime,” Jenny scolded her but when she reached out her hand, Ellie happily took it, and she was pulled into a hug. “I take it that means things went well?”

“They were great,” you replied. “I don’t think they could have gone better. I think this was exactly what everyone needed.”

Jenny looked visibly relieved, “And there weren’t any…problems?”

Peter helped you duck out of the fort, “Nope. There was a little talk about it but, in true Spider-Man fashion, Ollie managed to save the day and get everyone lost in a game of bank robbers.”

“I’m so glad to hear it. Thank you two so much. I’m sure we’ll be hearing all about your adventures as we try to wrestle them to sleep.” She helped walk you to the front door. “Kids! If you want to say goodbye to your guests, now is the time!”

They came barreling down the hallway. Ollie crashed into Peter’s arms and was lifted up to wrap his arms around his neck.

“I think you’re better than Spider-Man!” He gave Peter a sloppy kiss on the cheek then proceeded to be held upside down and swung back and forth to an explosion of laughter.

Ellie inched her way closer to you. She wiggled her finger to indicate that you should bend down to her level. You happily obliged. Peter carefully dropped Ollie back to his feet and let his ears pick up what Ellie was whispering softly to you.

“Thank you for coming to play with me today,” she breathed in your ear so only you…and Peter…could hear. “You’re my Spider-Man. You’re my hero.”

Tears welled up in your eyes but you held them at bay, “You’re my hero too, Ellie. I’ve never met anyone braver than you. You crawled through a room full of fire to save your brother. You’re the real Spider-Man.”

She gave a bashful giggle and sprinted away down the hall with Ollie on her heels. You stood up as Peter led you out the front door after saying goodbye to Jenny.

The night was dark and the air was crisp. The two of you walked in silence for a few blocks. Peter wanted to let you digest your night. It was a big moment for you, having to face your past head on.

You gave a loud, long sigh, tilting your head to the dark sky and closing your eyes, “I think we did good today. Don’t you?”

“Very much so. You, especially.”

“I want this night to end on a happy note. I want this night to feel normal. I miss normal,” you reached out your hand for Peter. “Hold my hand.”

He gladly accepted, locking his fingers with you, “I’ll never say no that. Let’s go be normal together.”

“Normal and boring. What could possibly be better than that?”

#the amazing spiderman #tasm #peter parker #andrew garfield #tasm peter parker #tasm x reader #tasm peter #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader #andrew garfield spiderman #andrew garfield peter parker #peter parker fic #tasm fic #tasm!peter parker

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tinemilk · 8 months

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HARWIN LITERALLY JUST A MAN

I have wanted to make this post for some time now, I just didn't know how.

Everywhere I have been engaging with the daemyra, f&b, and hotd fandoms, there seems to be this synonym agreement that Harwin is a goodie golden boy. Yet that description never fits from what little we can assume and know. It also bothers me how so many points at Rhaenyra in regard to their affair but not at Harwin.

Talking the book, we know his sisters are Rhaenyra's ladies and his father is the hand. He has been in King's Landing since Rhaenyra was a child. It is unrealistic to suggest they haven't been in the same circles at court, HIS FATHER IS THE HAND AND SISTERS HER LADIES. People love to point the finger at Daemon but praise Harwin for being this self-sacrificing man. But what is he sacrificing? He becomes the lover of the girl he watched grow up. He fathers children on her, he becomes her sworn shield. He gets both soft and hard power over her. This man takes so much from her, and what does she get in return?

If the fandom is going to give Daemon malicious intentions with his relationship with Rhaenyra, why give Harwin a pass? Harwin has everything to gain from being Rhaenyra's lover. And it isn't as if he will face the wrath of society for his deeds. He is just the lucky man who gets to fuck the Realms Delight. If Daemon is a man of his time, then so is Harwin. Because he does nothing to help Rhaenyra in regard to the bastard allegations, he never removes himself, marries, or does anything helpful. Why? Because he is a man, and having bastards is totally normal for men in Westeros. He has grown up knowing that is unfortunate, but 'oh well it happened'.

Just because he stayed beside her when she gave birth, means shit nothing. He was decent about that, good for him. It is the same as Laenor being beside her, even though he couldn't care less about her. That doesn't make him a saint for being at her side.

It is funny how she chose the son of the hand as her lover. There were surely others, let's not pretend there wouldn't be. One could argue that Harwin had Rhaenyra's trust and that she had known him for years. He has also been in close proximity to her since she was 8 years old. He could have easily positioned himself well because as she aged she became a beauty, and he being a man wanted her. Harwin had every opportunity to manipulate his way into her bed, and that trust he has as her sworn shield is giving Criston Cole vibes just played better. It is also worth mentioning that Rhaenyra was vulnerable at the time. She was forced to marry, threatened with disinheritance, had to deal with Alicent, and her Daemon was sent away by her father. Harwin was just being a friend, bffr. He saw an opening and took it, nothing more to it.

Harwin's actions reflect that he may have cared for Rhaenyra but in a selfish way. If he wanted to truly help her case and his own, he would FUCKING MARRY SOMEONE. So if Daemon is being treated as this evil power-grabbing person, so should Harwin. Sorry, not sorry.

Also check out @sydalelys01 post about harwin and criston, it's really good.

Let's see if i get hate for it. Can't wait.

#rhaenyra targaryen #harwin strong #I will not be taking criticism today maybe tomorrow #HE ISNT A GOD AMONG MEN #anti harwin strong #daemon targaryen #team fire #sad otto got back tho

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nexility-sims · 5 months

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𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡 | BREIZH, ARMORICA 2008

❧ happy birthday, beloved friend @armoricaroyalty ! this post is so late, but it's done, and i'm happy to share it. i'll save the huge mushy note and just say i'm so grateful to have spent all this time building the best expanded crossover universe ever, to which "collabs" doesn't do justice—that, plus all the friendship stuff, too :^)

‎‎‎‎‎❛ Elise, in a restaurant she had never been to, wearing a dress she had never worn, waiting for someone she hadn’t seen in years, was uncomfortable. She maintained a good façade, however. Pretending her confidence was unshaken had become a skill. The doubt crept in as she pushed herself into ill-fitting molds—ones that, even after all this time, she couldn’t break herself enough to suit. At her best, she didn’t want to. The pressure got to her other times. She had felt it like an unwanted touch as she stood in front of a mirror and regarded the assistant who dressed her with wary eyes. Before instructing them to pull a dress to pair with heels and jewelry, she had swallowed her pride. She could imagine, even if she didn’t know what Leonor may wear to a luncheon, how it would feel to sit across from her. She wanted to be secure and able to enjoy herself, and the price was this particular kind of discomfort.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

Yet, once they embraced and began to talk, it dissipated. They had both changed over the years, although Leonor especially. She wasn’t the round-faced young woman—just a girl, really, barely out of her teenage awkwardness—Elise remembered. Still, they were transported from their table for two and back to the summer house. Some of the memories were still fond ones. They had talked and laughed many times before, whether as they had breakfast in the kitchen or as they watched Roz carefully collect shells on the beach. Leonor remembered the good times, too. Though this was the first time she requested to meet, Elise had received bouquets on the occasions she was in Armorica, either on her own diplomatic business or accompanying her husband. She knew Elise liked white roses. The note, always a thick card from Breizh’s premier florist, would bear only a signature.

She hadn’t needed Leonor to say anything, but it meant something now that she did.

TRANSCRIPT:

{Indistinct conversation, light music}

[S] May I bring you something else while you wait, Your Majesty? [E] “Ma’am,” please. And, no, thank you. I think that’s her now.

[L] What a treat!

[E] How long has it been? Almost a decade? [L] Since the wedding.

[E] So, tell me everything. How are you? [L] {Exhales heavily}

[L] I haven’t slept more than five hours in as many years, and I can count the days off on my hands, but I love every minute of it.

[E] It must be interesting work then. [R] Rarely boring.

[E] I enjoy having so much time with my children, really, but … I do wish I had more time for the kinds of things you do. [L] “Armorica’s Mother of the Year, Every Year.” Modiste.

[E] Women can have it all now, can’t they? [L] They can. You can. You’re a queen, Elise. You can have whatever you want. [E] It’s not that simple.

[L] It is. [E] There are expectations, and other people are involved in— [L] I’m sorry, Elise, but I know you. You’re confident, capable, and very smart. You should be able to do more than tote around babies and smile for family photos. It’s their loss if you can’t.

[E] I knew what I signed up for when I married in. I’m happy. Do I wish I could do more interesting and important work? Well, not that the children aren’t interesting and important, but… [L] {Laughs} I know what you mean. And, you know—

[S] Ma’am? Your Highness? May I send your requests to the chef? [E] Oh … We didn’t even look at the menu! [S] It’s prix fixe today, but I have been instructed to assure you we can prepare anything you desire, within reason.

[E] I’ll have what she’s having. [L] {Chuckles} To start, have Abelardo make us turkey stew. He’ll know which. [S] | I’ll tell him, Your Highness.

[E] Now, I have to ask: how is it, having your own little one? She’s getting big now, right? What’s she like? [L] {Laughs} She’s five—what is there to say?

[L] I stopped taking to her to work when the breastfeeding stopped … Three years ago? Dan and I try, but I’ve heard her call the nanny “mama” by accident more than I care to admit. We went to a dance recital before the trip. She already works so hard. It’s precious. [E] Precious is right! Sounds like she takes after her mother.

[E] I remember when mine were that age. You know what Rosalind was like! Freddy? Completely different, and Jacques—

{Elise continues talking}

{Elise, talking}

[E] —and, of course, Roz being Roz, she told Freddy— [L] I have a proposal for you.

[L] Dan and I were considering inviting you and Andre to dinner sometime this week. Do you think he would be interested? [E] Um—dinner? [L] I’d like to invite Roz, too.

[E] Well, I’m not sure. It is last minute, and they both have such full schedules all the time. I could suggest it to him and see, but— [L] Elise, it’s fine.

[L] It was an idea. I can see them another time. I’m just pleased that you were available so last minute. [E] I’m glad, too.

[L] I mean it, really. We haven’t had a proper conversation in a very long time, and I’m grateful you wanted to spend time with me. [E] Thank you for asking me out. Usually it’s just the flowers.

[L] I respect and care for you, Elise. [E] That’s very sweet … [L] I always have, and I always will. I didn’t always show it—quite the opposite—but it’s important to me that you know that.

[E] I believe you. I do.

[L] Oh, do you smell that? Chili, achiote … [E] Sounds spicy. [L] {Snickers}

[L] I had an idea while we were splitting that poached pear. [E] Did you? [L] An interesting and important opportunity for you. [E] Leonor… [L] | Leave it all to me. I insist.

[E] Thank you. [L] My pleasure.

#you won't believe the ordeal of posting this dsdfsf #n.collab #ch.leonor #ch.elise #reyes.outtake.2

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