#oh sorry in advance for my terrible tagging:((

[weaselishmcdiesel]

davepeta, karkat, and jade holding hands

im in a romantic mood so theyre kissing too

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Had a terribly great thought! The Ghoul and reader traveling together. She's a brat but loyal as a dog to that man. They get into a pretty bad fight and she storms off and he's too proud to follow after her, struggling with coming to terms that he's actually soft for her even though he's mean as hell. She finds him some days later, with her tail tucked between her legs. He's not surprised, comparing her to a female dog often. 👀 still, he's going to make sure she's sorry. Lots of groveling on her part, maybe some face slapping, boot licking, he gets off, she doesn't. Ends with her in his lap. Hair petting and praise for coming back to who she belongs to.

As A Dog

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

Word Count: 7,085

Warnings: smut (18+), DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Jealous!Cooper, canon-typical violence, intimacy issues, angst, insecurity, slightly fucked conceptions of love and loyalty, pet play-ish activity, hard drug use, forced intoxication, shotgunning, slapping, boot licking, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, rough sex, riding, cannibalistic thoughts, orgasm denial (female), breeding kink, creampie.

Notes: I had several pieces in line in front of this one and then this prompt reached through my screen, sunk its teeth into my brain, and shook me until this came out. It really is a terribly great thought. Tagging heavy, since the themes/Cooper's mentality may be triggering for some. It is what it says on the can, folks.

I dunno what unholy demon you've unleashed on me here, Anon. But bless you for it. Another Coop POV because I have a problem. Thanks for the patience on this one; I've been doing some admin stuff the last few days, including setting up an AO3 that you can find here, where I'll be uploading all the long-form stuff. Enjoy!

Cooper's trigger finger was itchier today than it had been for a long time.

He was fully aware that he'd never be able to stop every man left in the world from talking to his little vaultie companion, but boy, he sure would love to try. On an average day, he struggled to hold his tongue as she drove away her own sun-baked suitors, standing silently aside until called up to defend her, no matter how badly he wanted to reduce whomever was bothering her to nothing.

Today was a worse-than-average day, and the girl wasn't helping anything, herself.

"Are you gonna be ready to go any time soon, princess?" he asked her acerbically as she passed by him for the millionth time, tossing his current cigarette down to the ground.

He'd intended to stop at this shitty little settlement, little more than a dingy bighorner ranch at first glance, for a few minutes at most, just long enough to unload some things and check to see if they had any vials on hand. Here it was, nearly four hours of glad-handing and chit-chatting and unnecessary gun repairs later, and he was still leaning against the same crumbing wall, still angrily smoking. She was pushing it.

"Oh, be patient." she shot back, rolling her eyes as she turned to saunter back to the little ramshackle counter. "I'm waiting for my gun back and I was having a nice chat with the mechanic. Try to be pleasant for five minutes, would you?"

She was so full of shit, he thought as he snuffed the still-glowing smoke butt out beneath the toe of his boot with just a little more force than necessary. Typically, she shied away from male attention at her most demure, refusing to acknowledge most advances, playing innocent, playing dumb. The big doe eyes and soft voice didn't hurt on that front, but usually didn't deter the more steadfast predators.

He preferred the days where she had a little extra spitfire, when she told them clearly and loudly to fuck off, no doubt emboldened by having the rather intimidating ghoul hanging over her shoulder, silently encouraging her as she did it. In the past, she had proven that she wasn't above evoking his capacity for violence as a threat when the desert trash was persistent, and it gave him a thrill he couldn't identify, one that ruminated deep in his gut.

That same gut feeling was burning him now, eating a hole in his patience as he watched her listening attentively to the third scrawny young man who'd approached her as she waited around the repair hutch to yap her ear off. She nodded and smiled politely, even laughed from time to time (the sound of which made him want to shoot he kid between the eyes just for that), but kept a respectful distance. Clearly, she'd finally learned that the sort of over-friendliness that she'd been raised with in the vaults could be read differently up here. The young buck, however, continued to try and dance into her space as he spoke animatedly, and, eventually, she reached out and quickly touched his chest.

The old cowboy was stomping across the sand to her before he was even aware he was moving.

His logical brain could see very clearly what had happened: the boy had advanced into her space for the half-dozenth time and she'd put her palm out to gently rebuke him, distracting him from the rejection with a laugh at whatever he'd said. But that part of his brain was rather quiet after a long afternoon of watching her rather blatantly flirt with the asshole she was having repair her plasma pistol (something that she would typically have him do, since it wouldn't cost her anything, and he almost certainly could do with equal or superior adequacy), and letting every other little piss-ant farmhand in the next mile radius chat her up.

"We're hitting the road in five. Get your shit and let's go." he hissed to her, ignoring the little scowl she shot him as he interrupted her newest conversation with the willowy, greasy mechanic, who was sliding her her pistol back across the knotted wood of the semi-exposed countertop. Flashing him that brilliant smile, the one that he wanted to be only for him, she checked the thing over before tucking it back into the holster she kept on her hip, pushing a stash of caps in a metal tin back his way. The old cowboy watched with inflamed indignation as the fucker opened the box, dug out a massive handful, and tucked them back into her hands, letting his own linger across her skin as he placed them back into her palms.

Frankly, he was impressed he was able to let her drop the things back into her bag before he grabbed her by the arm, none too gently, and wordlessly began to yank her back down the road, back in the direction they'd originally been heading in. He could've shoved the damn things in himself and just dragged her along; it wasn't like he was unfamiliar with where she put them. The long, sleepless nights could be boring, and early on, he'd been curious enough about her to nose through her things once or thrice. That, like this, had been quite illuminating.

"Oh, you're being such a prick today!" she yelled, yanking at his grip in an attempt to free herself. He humored her, dropping her arm and turning to face her, unpleasantly surprised as the last farmhand she'd been chatting with, the one she'd touched, came running up.

"Hey, leave her alone!" he yelled. Or, he would have, if he'd had a chance to finish.

The sound of Cooper's rifle butt cracking into the kid's face was incredibly satisfying, collapsing him into a limp, useless pile on the ground, deep crimson pooling around where he lie face-down in the dirt. The girl didn't scream, probably surprised that he hadn't outright shot him, but her hands did fly to her mouth in a quick moment of silent shock before she kneeled to quickly check his pulse, rolling his ugly mug to face the sun. Blood poured from his obviously broken nose, leaving the old ghoul wiping at his face to cover the smirk it sent twitching across his lips.

"What did you do that for?!" she demanded, frustration clear in her voice.

"Oh, my apologies, sweetheart. Your little boyfriend there was trying to join a party he wasn't invited to." he replied, though she was clearly ignoring him in favor of turning the boy onto his side and examining him.

His little companion let out a huff, casting a look between the body on the ground and the little cluster of buildings they'd just left. After a moment, she grabbed him by the fabric of his shirt the best she could and began to drag him back towards where he'd come from. The ghoul watched her pull him about five feet, red and huffing by the time she made it there, rolling his eyes deeply.

"Leave him. He'll be fine."

"He won't be if no one comes over to collect him soon, and you know it." she snarled, and her tone sent him seething, snatching the kid up over his shoulder like a sack of spuds and stomping ahead of her, depositing him unceremoniously against the ranch's handmade sign before yanking her along with him once again.

"Y'know, if you'd have just gotten in and out like I told you, that wouldn't have happened." he said eventually, dropping her arm once more.

"Oh, fuck you!" she hissed. "I was trying to see if I could talk him down on the price. And sometimes people know useful things, you know!" she yelled, exasperation clear in her tone as she threw her arms up in the air.

She pretended to be ignorant, but clearly knew what he was upset about before he specified. Interesting.

"Oh, I'm sure. Y'know, I'd wondered how long it was gonna take you to start sellin' that little ass of yours. Figured it would be for something nicer than a pistol repair or some bad intel, at least." he sneered. He could feel himself slipping further from rationality.

"What are you talking about? It wasn't even like that!" she insisted, an edge of something more worrisome creeping into her voice.

"Quit playin' dumb, doll. You make it seem too easy." he said, watching her entire face light up bright red in frustration. She was tersely quiet for a minute, the gears in her head clearly turning hard and fast as she worked to contain herself and formulate a response at the same time.

"I'm sick of you getting pissed off and treating me like I'm the stupidest person you've ever met." she spat, eventually, madder than he'd ever seen her. "I'm sorry that I haven't spent enough bitter fucking years walking around the desert and killing things and being an asshole to know everything like you do, Coop. I'm sorry I still have human emotions and desires. My sincerest fucking apologies."

That was it: the argument had officially become about...something else.

Honestly, he'd assumed that she was going to leave him a few days back, when they'd stayed in a rare hotel room waiting for a bad dust storm to settle, the little thing getting just a tad too tipsy on some whiskey he'd given her before trying to kiss him. He'd rebuffed her, though not as gently as he wished he had, and, feeling bold, she'd pushed back with surprising fervor, basically demanding to know why he wouldn't kiss her more, why he wouldn't sleep with her.

True, he felt closer to her than he'd felt to anyone or anything in a long while, and he thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but, as embarrassing as it was, the idea of being expected to perform sexually so suddenly made him feel a seizing sense of panic that he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before.

What he'd wanted to say was "I care about you so much, but I'm not sure I'm ready to take that step." Instead, what had come out was "Why are you buggin' me about this? I said no. Fuck off." followed by him storming out to spend several hours smoking in the decrepit, junk-walled-in parking lot.

When he'd returned, she'd been asleep, her poor face tear-swollen and red. He'd waited for her to rouse and hash it out with him, but she'd slept through the night, and, the next morning, didn't bring it up or seem amenable to discussing it. She hadn't seemed angry, necessarily, perhaps a little sad, but in the few days that had passed since, she had definitely been colder, poutier than usual.

It seemed, to him, that she was punishing him now for not doing what she'd wanted, and it was pissing him off.

It didn't matter that he hadn't fucked her yet, that he didn't feel ready to expose the most vulnerable parts of him, inside and out, so openly. She was his; she belonged to him and she knew it as much as he did. The fact that she was even still traveling with him after all this time, after what happened at the hotel that night, was proof. She proved it every single time she came back from one of her little stomp-offs every time he ticked her off, lacking the wherewithal to ever even move fully out of sight before slinking down to pout awhile, inevitably peeking out from whatever she was hiding behind to see if he was still there. Despite her lack of proper training, she was a loyal little bitch.

The fact that she suddenly didn't want to act accordingly sat entirely wrong in his mind, wriggled under his skin like when his stash ran low.

"All's I'm saying, princess," he growled, throwing out the nickname he knew she loathed once more, "is that you're too fucking friendly for your own good, and you shouldn't be shocked when it gets people hurt."

"Why would you give a shit who I'm friendly to, anyway?" she spat, suddenly pushing her way right into his bubble and sending him baring his teeth.

"I wouldn't. Didn't I made that clear enough the other night?"

He knew that this particular barb would hurt her, but he genuinely didn't expect what she did next.

"Alright, then." she said; her voice was trembling noticeably, as was her lower lip. With that, she snatched her backpack up from the ground, jammed her arms into the straps, turned, and began to walk back towards the way they'd come from. He watched her silently, waiting for her to duck back into the ranch, but she didn't; instead, she kept walking, as long as he could watch her, until she disappeared over the hill that fed into the horizon.

The old man watched her go, dumbfounded as she actually continued to walk instead of stopping as she always did. For a while, he hung around, waiting for her to come huffing back, but she still hadn't by the time the sun had fully sunk out of the sky. Eventually, he resumed moving himself, stopping after about a mile in their original planned direction, settling down for a grating night of looking out over the road at every little noise.

She'd never even looked back. He couldn't shake that thought from his mind as he sat there resting overnight. It was basically the only thought he had for hours, plaguing him as he puffed his inhaler and watched the world around him brighten with the rising sun.

When the next day started in full, he'd resolved to hit the road, to resume his travels as he would be resuming his existence before the girl had come along. Compared to how long he'd been exploring the desert solo, she'd been but a brief blip in his life, and there was no reason to fret so much over where she'd gone or what could happen to her without him around.

For some reason, he only covered about half the ground he would typically cover on a day like this, and he found himself beyond unreasonably frustrated...with himself. Nothing about the conditions was slowing him down; he didn't run into more trouble than usual, and he was fine on supplies, vials, but for some reason he found himself hypervigilant, looking for any excuse to move up high and scan the road with his binoculars.

By the time it was too dark to safely continue, he was seething once again, but at his weakness, at his cowardice. After he chose a tucked away little corner to settle down in for a few hours, he quite literally couldn't dig into his stash fast enough, doing line after line, hit after hit of whatever he had on him, until the horrible pain he felt behind his breastbone melted away into a familiar, soothing numbness.

But his numb mind liked to wander, and soon he found himself thinking about the softness of her voice, her skin, her lips against his that night...

And, quickly, he was back to pain and anger, but an irrational anger fueled by a far-more than reasonable dose of basically every kind of stimulant known to Wasteland man. This pain, too, was chased away with more and more chems, until he was so fucked up that he could barely keep his eyes focused and open.

She truly did plague him now, just as she had all the months she'd traveled with him. She plagued his thoughts at all points in the day, plagued his worries about the future, and even as he attempted to snort and huff himself free of the thought of her, she plagued him, dancing up along beside him in a quiet, stalking creep, watching him daintily from the end of the rotted log he sagged himself on, his back wedged against the large rock cluster behind him. At some point, he'd tugged his gloves off and shucked them somewhere nearby, leaving him feeling quite naked as his hands fretted with themselves absentmindedly. Against his will, he thought about running them through her hair like he'd wanted to for so long, and the unpleasant flip his stomach did made him sigh.

"I'm sorry." came a voice on the breeze, so much like hers. The visions of her were persistent, annoyingly so, the one staring hauntingly at him from the side really starting to unsettle him. He was no stranger to visual and auditory hallucinations when he was this far gone, but she was so solid-looking out of the corner of his eye, watching him so close. Judging him and what a fuck-up he was.

He squeezed his eyes shut hard, willing her away, willing himself to go back a few days and redo this entire thing differently.

"Aren't you...gonna say anything?" came the soft, timid voice once more, this time from beside him. Firmer, realer.

He narrowed his eyes in her ghostly direction, focusing as best as he could on her blurry, swimming visage.

"Huh. Didn't know that was really you."

When had she arrived, exactly? Fuck, he was dangerously gone if she'd been able to sneak up on him like that.

She frowned at that, leaning close and sizing him up with worrying eyes. Gingerly, she placed her palm on the back of his bare hand.

"Jeez, Cooper. How fucked up are you?" she asked, her tone sincere, almost apologetic.

Her glaring worry burned into him as judgment, harsh and stinging, and he struck out in response, yanking his hand away.

"Mind your fuckin' business." he slurred, forcing himself to sit up straight enough to point his full anger in her direction, growing with each passing moment. "Think you're better'n me? Hmm?"

He'd fully expected this to ignite another yelling match between the two of them, but she didn't scream back; instead, she quietly dropped her head, avoiding his eyes as she gazed around where he'd chosen to bed down. Truly, he was quite impressed she'd managed to find him at all, let alone in the dark. Turns out he was rubbing off on her even more than he'd thought. The idea left him bitter.

A big part of the anger he felt, the ugliest, most violent part, was the Jet; he knew this. The stuff had gotten him into more than his share of scuffles through the years, making him even meaner than usual, his sharp tongue exact and piercing. However, beneath the amphetamine fog, there was a nugget of true bitterness, an open wound of insecurity that pained him into lashing out when she tried to come close. He'd lashed out in such a way that night at the hotel, despite how hard he'd tried to hold back his sour words.

There was a fear there that he'd felt before, but never so strongly as when he'd watched her disappear over that hill. If she'd tried to leave over that relatively small argument, when would she try to leave again? He wasn't a pleasant man to be around, even when he actually tried to be, a lot of the time. Hell, he wasn't even pleasant to look at; if he'd been a giant prick in his old life, at the very least, he had been handsome.

Increasingly, since she'd come into his life, he tried to reach deep, deep into himself and pull out whatever remained of the old him, the one who was kind and hopeful and actually knew how to talk to women, but the process was infinitely more difficult and painful than he'd imagined.

She clearly wanted and needed intimacy from him, on more than one front, and the pressure of feeling like he couldn't give her what she needed was increasingly getting to him in a way that embarrassed him more than he could possibly say (not that he'd ever say it out loud). Centuries of time had passed, and yet, here he was, still dealing with the same anxieties and feelings of inadequacy that he had before, just dressed up in a new, uglier face.

When would he finally succeed in pushing her away, in frightening her away from him 'for her own good'? The walls around him had never failed him before, for better or worse.

Things were quiet between them as she fidgeted in her spot, the tension of an inescapable conversation in the air, but the desert's constant score, the hiss of sand across corroded asphalt, the soft rattle of the wind in the rocky hills, played on. His muddled ears played tricks on him, making him hear murmurs and distant gunshots and the crack of his rifle butt into that farmhand's face, but he tuned them out, focusing on her steadying, but increasingly heavy breathing, his eyes unable to leave her mouth..

He let himself drink in the fact that she really was there, sat on her knees in the dirt before him and already begging him for his forgiveness, for his acceptance; corporeal, flesh and blood and her sweet smell and that wet, warm place between her legs. Only in his drug-induced private fantasies had he felt it, but he knew he wanted to bury himself there, as deep as possible, and never let her pull away.

"I really am sorry, Coop." she whispered, those big, round eyes brimming with big, wet tears. It wasn't difficult to see her sincerity, even as he struggled to focus. But that hot coal of bitter anger still smoldered in his gut; not replaced by the lust he felt, but fed by it.

Slowly, his own movements labored under the weight of too many substances, he reached out and ran the thumb of his sullied glove along her smooth, smooth cheek. Smearing the trail of wetness there until he was tracing the outline of those pouty lips, he pushed it into her mouth.

"Prove it."

She let out a pitiful little retch, though whether it was from the taste of the incredibly filthy material, or because he was shoving her tongue back in her throat and gagging her with it, he didn't know. What he did know was that the sound made his cock twitch, which was already more blatant sexual desire than he'd felt in ages.

"How?" she asked, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand as he pulled his own away. The wetness that trailed from his thumb, from her lips, made him feel feverish, and he quickly knotted his hand into the thick, soft hair at the back of her head, yanking her so close that their noses would've been touching, had he still had one. When her wide eyes met his, not so much as a sound escaping her lips at the sensation in her scalp, he finally gave in and harshly mashed his mouth to hers, swallowing the sigh that escaped her as he did.

Cooper was unsure how long they kissed, how long he plundered her swollen, eager mouth with his tongue before she stumbled onto her knees, pulling back slightly to pull air into her lungs. As she hovered there, eyes closed as she attempted to gather herself, he dug deep into the pocket of his duster and withdrew a Jet container, giving it a shake to prime it as she righted her breathing. Once she was steady once more, he cupped the back of her head again, bringing her to him and lifting it to her mouth. There was hesitation in her eyes, then disgust as the chem filled her lungs. It touched him with a twinge of amusement, knowing how badly the stuff tasted, watching her retch harder than before. He let her cough for a few seconds, allowing her a few half-cocked breaths of air before shoving the thing back between her lips and holding it down even longer.

By the time she managed to stop sputtering and drooling, he'd had a hit of his inhaler and started stroking his increasingly hard cock through his pants, watching her closely as she raised her now bleary, glassy eyes towards him. He waited for her to mouth off, to complain, to remark on anything that had happened, but instead, she sat there, unmoving, waiting for his instructions. She was the picture of obedience, but nevertheless, he could still see that glint of outrage behind her gaze, waiting to argue with him the moment she sensed an opportunity.

It pissed him off more than he thought possible, and, before he could even think to stop himself, he lashed out and slapped her across the face, the blow landing squarely in the center of her cheek and making her head turn away from him slightly. Surprising him again, she didn't make a sound, but she also didn't correct her head to look back at him.

Pulling a long drag off of the Jet inhaler himself, he held it deep in his lungs as he grabbed her by her long hair to kiss her again, exhaling the stuff right down into her lungs. She kissed him back until she choked on the sensation, leaning away to spew and cough more.

"Wanna prove you're sorry?" he hissed, his brain buzzing with the fresh hit as she leaned against his knee. "Clean my boots, vaultie. Show a little humility for once in your life."

His words were mean, meaner than he should be right now, but she didn't seem to register their full weight as she struggled to focus her eyes on the boots in question. When she lifted those dark, glassy pools back to his, he could see she knew what he meant, a heavy blush staining her cheeks and neck. Of course she knew what he meant; she was a smart girl, and her brain worked so much like his, even if she wouldn't freely admit it.

She looked up at him so dreamily through those thick lashes, though whether it was real affection in her eyes or simply the haze from all the Jet he'd forced down into her lungs, he couldn't tell.

In truth, his boots weren't as filthy as they could've been, as he'd cleaned the farmhand's blood off of them the night she'd taken off to get rid of the smell. But it wasn't about cleanliness; no, she'd humiliated him, her and her spoiled, entitled vault-dweller attitude, when she ran off, and he wanted to see her humiliate herself a little in kind.

The woman kneeling before him didn't hesitate as much as he'd thought she would, the red outline of his palm and fingers seeming to glow on her cheek in the dying firelight as she cast a vaguely-seeing glance around her, measuring her space before pulling herself into a sort of downward dog position, her round ass in the air as her marred cheek rested softly on the sandy ground. There was a moment of quiet tension as she seemed to study it, planning her approach before rather timidly leaning forward and running her tongue along the side, swiping a clean stripe across the tarnished black material from ball to toe. She gagged at first, likely from the dryness of the dust, but, again, she didn't complain.

He didn't have to tell her to clean the other boot; she did it with no prompting as soon as the first was finished, gagging less as she ran her pretty pink tongue all along the sullied, scuffed leather, and he couldn't believe how much it turned him on while equally failing to quell his indignation, his disappointment. Before she'd really finished her work, he yanked her up by her hair again; this time, she let out a slight yelp of surprise as he dropped her onto her ass, gesturing to her shabby, scavenged armor with one hand as the other began to wrestle his ammo belt, then his actual belt, open.

"Take that shit off."

Again, she did as he asked with only a moment's pause, placing all the little pieces of boiled leather and metal off to the side, her eyes flitting to him for a heartbeat before she proceeded with the rest of her clothes, quickly exposing herself completely. He could see her well in the moonlight, but not as well as he'd have liked, leaving her standing there, vulnerable and shivering ever-so-slightly as he took a good, long look at her. He was painfully hard at this point, desperate to have at least some minor relief from the confines of his trousers, but he was also uncharacteristically nervous at the idea of exposing himself to her this way. Beckoning her forward, he used her distraction as she kneeled once more to pull his cock free, grateful for the darkness and her weaker eyes.

"Suck me." he growled.

While he wasn't exactly pleased at how entirely fucked up he'd been going into this, he was sort of grateful that he couldn't feel almost anything with any vivid detail across the expanse of his body; the visual of her wrapping her dainty little fingers around him and obediently leaning down to take him into her mouth alone would have been enough to finish him if he'd have been able to feel her properly.

The way she went about it also seemed to indicate she wasn't entirely experienced, simply sliding her mouth down over his cock and setting to finding a pace that she could handle, as everything was surely spinning for her. For a while, he let her do so, fingers knotting into her hair again, before his patience wore thin and he began to push her head downwards, the sound of her gagging once more sending a thrill up his spine. Even with the numbness from the most recent hit seeping through him, he wasn't able to keep it up long before he yanked her back, taking in the drool hanging down from her swollen lips.

Cooper gave his spit-slicked cock a few firm tugs, hissing from between his worn teeth at her as he sat back, making room for her on his lap.

"Now get up here and show me you know who you belong to."

She didn't even look towards her bag, towards the condoms he knew she kept tucked deep inside her little toiletry pocket, as she quickly and sloppily pulled herself up into his lap. A part of him knew that he'd have stopped her if she did try to put one on him.

He tried so hard to not think of Barb as the pretty young thing on top of him began to sink down and envelop his cock in her heat, tried so hard to not feel guilty for giving himself to another, and he failed miserably. She felt heavenly, tighter and warmer and sweeter than he could've ever imagined, and he hated himself for how much he loved it, for how alive it made him feel when for so long he'd simply been existing. The choked noise that left his dry throat as the aching head of him fully breached her wasn't a sob, but he wouldn't have known what to call it.

It must've seemed to her, he thought, that he was forcing her to do all the work out of anger, wanting her to fully prove that she wanted him, that she was his; this was true, but he was also terrified, deep down, of how he would react if he allowed himself to freely touch her the way he wanted. He feared he would literally rip her limb from limb in his intoxicated state, sink his teeth into her pillowy flesh until it bled, tear a chunk off of her and swallow it so that she could be part of him forever.

He couldn't tell if the way she huffed and whimpered her way down his length was because she was high and hypersensitive or because she'd never been with a man this way before. That thought was quickly and harshly banished from his brain, however, his hands finding the plush fat of her hips, fingertips digging hard into the soft, supple flesh.

"Good pup." he breathed out when he eventually felt her ass rest on his thighs, fully sheathing him inside her.

The whimper she let out in response, her tight little clasp quivering around him as she clumsily reached out and braced her hands on his shoulders, made him throb hard, leaving him at least slightly grateful for his intoxication once again. If his numbed brain and body had been able to feel her fully, he knew he would've absolutely shot his load already.

Cooper struggled to stay still as she moved experimentally on top of him, lifting and lowering and grinding herself a few different ways before she found a rhythm that made him let out a throaty moan, the ghost of a smile flashing across her sleepy face as she rode away at him for a while.

What he really wanted, deep beneath all the unwanted feelings and unanswered questions about things he didn't want to think about right now, was to knock her up. For so long now he'd thought of her as his, and now that he'd claimed her, he wanted nothing more than to see her round and full to the brim of him. He wanted her to need him, to be completely dependent on him to provide for her and keep her safe.

He wanted her too vulnerable to get away from him.

On top of him, her movements were rapidly losing all coordination as her glossy, heavy eyelids drifted shut, her head nodding violently as she struggled to maintain her pace. He'd given her too much for someone who didn't use regularly, someone her size, and she was crashing out, falling asleep against her will right there. Poor thing.

He slapped her again, the sound ringing out across the vast, empty desert, watching closely as she startled back into a fully upright posture, her hips stilling for a moment before slowly beginning to churn again, her gaze unfocused.

"Mmm." she murmured groggily, leaning forward and placing her forehead against his shoulder, her arms winding around his neck as she tried her best to keep in some sort of motion.

This gesture, the way she cuddled up to him and sought comfort, support from him, even after the way he'd treated her, the fact that he'd literally just slapped her awake, was the only thing she'd done thus far that truly quelled the ugly, raging anger inside him.

"Thought this stuff was s'posed to wake you up." she sighed into the crook of his neck. She was entering the peak of her high, her body pitifully liquid against his chest as she clearly struggled to stay upright.

Personally, Cooper was reaching the un-fun part of his comedown, where everything started to feel grating and the mind began to uncloud, providing an increasingly painful level of clarity, but the senses remained muddled in a way that provided more discomfort than relief.

"Usually does. You had too much, baby." he responded, the mild chastisement in his tone doing a poor job of hiding the guilt behind it. His naked hands stroked reverently at her back, at the long, wind-swept hair that flowed down it, mindful to hold her so that she wouldn't lilt too far to one side as he attempted to soothe her.

Familiar with the unpleasant swimming sensation too much Jet could give you, he let her relax fully against him, the small sigh she let out one of gratitude as her whole body sagged even further. But she didn't stop grinding against him, probably out of some sort of pleasure for herself, he figured as he could feel her greedy insides tugging around him. He hid his grin again, this time in the crook of her neck as his hands found her hips once more, easily lifting her a few inches before dropping her down again, bouncing her on his cock as she rested.

Things went on like that for a spell, him bobbing and rocking her naked, lax body on top of his as she curled up on his shoulder, cooing and nodding off from time to time. As his high wore off, the sensitivity in his body was returning, and it made her feel more and more overwhelming as he continued to fuck her, her hot, wet little cunt leaking all over him as he continued to use her body to get himself off.

She seemed to be more conscious now than before, though barely, jostled awake by the increasing force of his thrusts up into her, bare breasts heaving with the movement. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to trace his lips down her chest, sealing them around her puffy, erect nipple and swiping his tongue along her slightly salty flesh. In response, her arms tightened around his neck, holding him on her breast as she clenched around him hard.

"Cooper." she whimpered, and that single little sound pushed him right into what felt like the most powerful orgasm he'd ever had, his fingers digging into her hips far too hard as he dropped her full weight onto him, grinding her down onto his cock and yanking her against him. His head dropped back, dead weight as he let out a feral snarl, tapering off into a throaty moan.

As he throbbed his gift up inside her, she squirmed at the feeling, tucking her bright red face into the side of his neck in what read as slight embarrassment, giving little huffs and whimpers as he continued to fill her. Another, smaller wave of guilt nagged at him as she clung to him, as he held her as close as he possibly could, struggling to regain control of his breathing; even if she'd had sex before, she'd never done this.

He held her as long as she could tolerate, her grip around him loosening slowly as she moved closer to real sleep. His girl was exhausted through and through, lightly snoozing against his chest.

For a few minutes, he let her rest uninterrupted, scanning her over to assess how badly he'd fucked up. She seemed fairly intact, though certainly more bruised than before. Eventually, he went digging into her bag, knowing (hoping) that she would have Radaway somewhere, and letting out a small sigh of relief when he found some jammed into the bottom.

Only one dose; he would have to find her more, and soon. This would be enough to see her through the next day, though, and he was pleasantly surprised to note that she wasn't showing even minor signs of radiation sickness as he found a vein in her arm, starting up the intravenous line to administer the thick, yellowed solution. Surprisingly, she didn't rouse fully when he slid the included needle into place, but she did begin to stir and groan mildly as the stuff began to effuse. Dimly, he remembered being given it when he'd been in the service, and how shitty it could make you feel.

Softly, he stroked her cheek with the backs of his bare knuckles before setting to jabbing her with a Stimpak from his bag around where she'd stuck some staples in her belly, making a note to ask her what had given her the several inches-long laceration he saw there.

He hesitated, though, when he moved to give her a dose of Med-X he'd dug out from the depths of his saddlebag. Most of the Wasteland's mind-rotting and pain-soothing substances were on the table for him, and in great amounts, but he hated the way the opiate made him sluggish and sleepy, reducing his accuracy in a fight significantly. The pain relief it provided wasn't worth it if he ended up dead anyway.

Smoothskins loved it, though, so he usually kept a few syringes on him for bartering purposes. Never did he think he'd be happy to give so much of his stash away for free.

He knew she must be hurting, or, she would be when she woke up, whenever that was. But he was hesitant to give her anything else, both for fear of how she would react, and, somewhat selfishly, because he knew a proper dose would make her sleep even longer, and he was desperate to actually get to speak with her again.

If she asked for the stuff, he'd give it to her. But...tomorrow. After they'd gotten a chance to discuss everything that had happened with cooler, more sober heads. After he was sure she wouldn't wake up in the morning and hate him for what he'd done to her.

His fingers played softly in her mussed hair as the indigo cover of night faded into the periwinkle of twilight, washing her nearly grey in his arms. She slept hard awhile, undisturbed until the awkward angle of her neck made him gently resettle her into a more comfortable-seeming position, letting her slip down until she was curled up in a ball on her side in his lap, her head supported in the crook of his elbow. Lying this way, he'd have to hold her up while she slept, but he found himself strangely excited at the prospect.

"M'sorry I ran away." she murmured suddenly after a long period of silence, readjusting herself in his lap to curl closer.

"I know, kid. I forgive you." he replied after a moment of hesitation, the words soft and strange as they formed on his lips. He petted her hair as gently as he could manage. "Did a good job findin' your way back to me, pup. Proud of you."

"Mmm. Please don't be mad at me." she echoed his own thoughts softly, so slurred as she finally began into unconsciousness that it was barely intelligible, her face buried in his side.

"I'm not." he said, fully, completely honest for once in his long life. He let his eyelids rest, his hand on his gun, ready to stop anyone who would try to ruin this quiet moment under the fading stars. "I promise. Now, get some sleep, pup. I know you came a long way today."

She sighed at that, as if to say "You have no idea." before flopping loosely into his arms, and was snoring lightly within a minute. He allowed himself a small smile at this, at how earnest and adorable she was.

"Good girl." he murmured.

[22-b]

welcome…

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[melodygatesauthor]

Save Us

Moon Boys X f!Reader

Summary: Two months after Marc broke up with you, you get a late night call from Steven that has you worried and rushing to help them. It's hard to face them again after things went wrong, but Marc is going to try and make it up to you.

Tags/Warnings: NSFW, Marc is kinda toxic, Marc needs therapy, Marc has issues, Marc needs a hug, THIS STORY IS ANGSTY, may be triggering if you've been in a toxic relationship before, sad, smut, p in v creampie, argument, breakup, exes to lovers trope, soft dom Steven, sorry in advance, no physical abuse

Major Trigger Warning: this story explores themes of emotional abuse. It was very self indulgent. If you’ve been a victim of emotional abuse (or are sensitive to topics like this) then this may be upsetting to you. You’ve been warned. I seriously went the full self indulgent route with this one. Had to work some personal stuff out and it helped!

Word Count: 9.9k (What in the...)

You were awoken in the dead of night to your phone vibrating loudly on the end table at your bedside. You groaned, sitting up and looking at the screen. Clear as day, it said, My Boys🌙. You still needed to change their name in your phone, or completely block their number. It rang until it went to voicemail, but that’s when you saw that there were seven missed calls.

You hadn’t heard from any of them in the two months since Marc had broken up with you, and now they’d called you seven times. It rang again, this time you jumped up and grabbed it immediately. You didn’t want to talk to them, but you knew it must be serious for one of them to be actually calling you. 

“H-hello? Hello?” You cleared your throat.

“Dove? Darling?” You heard Steven on the other end and you let out an exhale.

You weren’t ready to deal with Marc, but Steven…at first you were relieved it was him, but the more you thought about it, Steven was worse. Steven might be able to convince you to come back.

“Is everything ok?” You asked, feeling your chest already tighten at the tone of his voice.

“No, no I’m afraid it’s not.” He was sobbing. You felt your own eyes start welling up. “We need your help.”

“Are you in danger? What’s wrong?” You tried to keep the panic down in your voice.

“I…I think I’m a little drunk, but we’re sobering up.” You could hear it now that he’d mentioned it, the slurring of his words as he spoke. “I haven’t been in the front in a long time, it’s always Marc, he won’t…oh my…he won’t let Jake or me out. We’ve been trapped in there.”

“Ok, you need to tell me where you are, right now.” You demanded.

“I’m outside of a…” You heard him pull the phone away from his face.

“Hey, watch it!” Steven yelled.

You heard some scuffling, followed by some Spanish slurs, before the phone was picked up again.

“Mi princesa.” Jake said. “We’re at the corner of Elm and Main, at a place called Tiko’s. I can feel Marc trying to take over again…por favor, querida, we need you.”

The line went dead. It was rare that Jake uttered the words por favor, or we need you. Steven’s cries would remain burned into your memory for an eternity. He cried when you’d left too, and you still hadn’t forgotten the pain. It was all you thought about as you got yourself dressed and headed for their location. You knew right where it was, it was where you and Marc had first met.

------------------------

It was also where he went just before he broke up with you. He’d come home, wasted, completely obliterated and crying. It was constant, and you were sick of it. He refused to go to therapy, said it was for nutjobs, and he didn’t want them drugging him up. You understood, you sympathized, but instead you were stuck trying to handle his terrible self-loathing attitude, and toxic behavior.

“Why don’t you just fucking leave then? Huh? If you’re not happy then why don’t you just go!” His mouth turned into a hard line, his brow furrowed.

That was always his go to line whenever things got tough. Always telling you to leave if you didn’t like it. You sometimes wondered why he even asked you out in the first place if this is how he was.

“Ok Marc, is that really what you want? You want me to leave? Fine…you say it every time we fight so you know what, I’ll go then.”

The two of you had moved in together a year ago, but you moved in to his place, so almost everything was his, Steven’s and Jake’s. The TV that had a purple spot in the corner when you turned it on from the time Marc threw one of Steven’s books at it in a fit of rage; the stool at the breakfast bar that had a wobbly leg from the time Marc pushed it over while he was drunk and yelling at you; and the dresser in the bedroom that had a broken drawer from when he punched it, it was all his.

It was heartbreaking to walk away from the other two though. They didn’t have anything to do with it. When Marc backed out, retreating to the headspace, too upset to handle the pressure, Jake came out. That was the final straw. He couldn’t even be bothered to have a conversation with his girlfriend after berating her for over an hour. He did it time and time again, and this time…you’d had enough.

“Princesa, please don’t go.” Jake said, walking up to you quickly while you started filling a bag with clothes.

“Jake.” You pulled your arm back quickly when he grabbed it.

“Cariño.” He grabbed your arm again.

“No!” You yelled a little too loudly in your apartment. “I’m done Jake. I can’t do this. You want someone to blame? Blame Marc.”

Jake was never one to give up easily, so he must’ve been able to tell how serious you were when he let go of your arm again and forfeited the body to Steven. The bastard, he knew that of the three, Steven would be the one to get you to stay. He’d done it time and time again. Always telling you that he’d confront Marc himself and that he’d work on making Marc be better for the four of you, but even Steven couldn’t help Marc, you were convinced at this point that no one could.

“Darling please,” there came the waterworks. Even when it wasn’t your fault, Steven made you feel guilty. “He’s gotten a little better, yeah? Look…”

You were still filling your bag with clothes while Steven walked to the kitchen and came back with a card.

“He got you this for your birthday.” He held the birthday card in his hand like it was supposed to be the one thing stitching the relationship together. “I didn’t even have to remind him! He did it on his own!”

You stopped, holding a pair of jeans in your hands. You looked at Steven. He was desperate. His eyes were glossed over while he tried to keep it together. You remembered when Marc got you that card, it was the day after a fight, and he felt guilty. He only ever did anything nice when he felt guilty the next day, never when it really counted.

“They’re both assholes for putting you through this.” You said, feeling yourself choking up. “I can’t do this anymore Steven, Marc doesn’t want me here, and I don’t want to be here.”

“But he’s nice sometimes, look he also…” Steven was scrambling around the apartment.

You walked to the bathroom and grabbed your toothbrush and other personal care items. When you looked in the mirror, you noticed your saddened face and realized how much you’d been crying. You’d probably been crying for at least an hour. You wiped your cheeks and went back out to the bedroom where Steven was standing with a vase.

“He got you this vase, remember when you were sick and he went and got you flowers?” Steven asked. You saw his eyebrows raise in an attempt to look happier, but they were fighting to furrow.

“Steven, please go.” You grabbed the vase and put it in the bathroom trash. “You know he only got me those because I had just complained the day before about how he never does anything nice for me? He only does something nice after I’ve complained about it.”

“I can’t just go.” He looked like a lost puppy trying to get you to keep him. “They’re both just out, quiet, I wish I could leave.”

You sighed, wiping your face and sniffling, “then they’re both fucked for doing that to you. You don’t need to be here, dealing with this. Marc is selfish, and…that’s it! He’s selfish! He’s the one who did this, he’s the one who should be here. He’s a fucking coward.”

You threw the bathroom items in your bag and then zipped it.

“Tell Marc I’ll have my brother come back for the rest of my things.” You grabbed your purse and pulled out your keys.

“Sweetheart, love, please!” Steven raised his voice, cracking under the weight of sorrow.

You turned around, “I’m so so sorry baby. I really am.” You said through your own strained voice. “You deserve better than what he’s putting you through, and so do I, I wish I could help you.”

------------------------

With that, and one last look at Steven’s broken face and waterfall of tears, you slammed the door and never looked back, until now, when you were turning the corner on the street to find Jake leaned against the building, smoking a cigarette. You got out of the car and pulled your jacket around yourself tighter. You felt like an idiot for coming back after what Marc put you through, but there you were. You reminded yourself that you weren’t there for Marc, you were there for Jake and for Steven.

“Jake, come on.” You said, waving him over.

“Oh, hermosa, I missed you.” He winked as he walked over to you. He was stinking of alcohol and smoke.

“Put that thing out.” You grabbed it from his lips and dropped it, crushing the butt under your shoe. “Let’s go.” You took his hand, to which he pulled you in close.

“You are as beautiful as the day you left, perhaps even more.” He cupped your cheek and leaned in to kiss you but you pulled back.

“I didn’t come here to get back together with you, I came back to get you home in one piece.” You pushed him back, and he stumbled and fell.

He shook his head, “Wha-oh right, I’m here and…” Steven looked up at you, it always amazed you how different each of them looked regardless of the fact that they shared the same body. “Oh my…love!”

Steven stood up and couldn’t hide the smile plastered on his drunken face. He gripped your shoulders before pulling you in for a hug. He wasn’t going to try and kiss you like Jake had, he was too respectful of your boundaries to do anything like that. Even when you were dating, he always respected your personal space.

“We really got ourselves in a predicament, yeah? Well…” He chuckled, “Marc did. I’m sure that doesn’t surprise you.”

“I need you to just get in the car, we can talk on the way back to your place.” You said, urging him into the vehicle.

When you got in on your side you let out a heavy sigh and put the car in drive before heading toward their apartment. The streetlights afforded you a split second of light before fading into darkness again. The radio was off, leaving nothing but silence. You heard Steven sniffle, fighting back the urge to cry.

“Tell me what happened, why did you call? I made it very clear-”

“Marc isn’t letting me or Jake out, it’s just headspace all day every day. He’s destroying us.” Steven said, choking on his words. “I don’t know when the last time we ate something proper was. I’m so hungry.” He pressed a hand to his stomach.

“Do you have food at the house?” You asked, pulling down a different road.

“Y-yeah I think he’s got a few things…I don’t know.” He said, laying his head back. “I missed you.” He was crying again, “I’m sorry, I said I wasn’t going to do this before I called you.”

“It’s fine. I’m…I’m glad you called me, Steven.” You said, keeping your eyes on the road.

“We had a lot of time to think after you left, and…he really didn’t deserve you, I never should’ve asked you to stay. I’m so sorry.” Just when Steven’s cries became overwhelmingly loud, they stopped suddenly, and you knew it was Jake coming back. You’d grown to know them so well that you could tell the differences between the way they each breathed when they were upset.

“Keep him in there please, at all costs.” You said coldly, trying to keep your composure.

“Si.” Was all he said. You knew he understood.

Steven wasn’t a child, and didn’t need to be treated like one, but he was much more sensitive than the other two, and you knew that he was living a nightmare having to see you and go through this, and having you just within arm’s reach, but not being able to really have you. He had been a passenger in Marc’s path of destruction, just like you had, the only difference was that you could walk away, Steven just had to suffer in there and you felt terrible for him and Jake both.

“Marc has completely taken over. Saw a girl at the bar tonight though who kinda looked like you and then he went loco, yelled at her, he was so drunk, and then he went away.” You watched him pull a cigarette pack from his pocket. “Steven was so happy to be out, he just ran outside and knew he had to call you to get you to help. Something about that girl must’ve knocked Marc back.”

“You’re smoking again? I thought you quit.” You grabbed the pack and threw it into the back seat.

“It’s Marc’s pack.” He explained, dropping his hands on his lap. You could tell you irritated him.

Marc wasn’t a smoker. At least, he hadn’t been while you were together. Jake had been, but insisted on quitting after getting to know you.

“What has he been doing?” You asked as you pulled onto their street.

“Nothing.” Jake was aggravated. “He’s been doing absolutely fucking nothing except destroying himself and dragging us down with him.” He let out a heavy sigh. “I’ve been in there for two months, dos.” He held up two fingers to emphasize his point.

“I’m sorry.” Was all you said, you didn’t know what else you could say. 

“I’m not mad at you, Cariño, I could never be mad at you.” He said calmly as you pulled into the driveway.

“Jake…” You put the car in park. “Did he hurt anyone?”

“No, no one except you, and Steven.” He said softly.

“And you. You might not be showing it but, I know you’re feeling it too.” You said quietly. He always stayed quiet about his feelings, but he wasn’t emotionless, he was just less expressive.

His hand reached over and grabbed yours.

“You have always been so caring, querida.” You tried to keep it inside, but a smirk played at the corners of your mouth, Jake was always so smooth.

“Please stop.” You pulled your hand out from under his and opened the door quickly.

If you’d let his hand linger, you’d be inclined to lean into it, and you couldn’t allow yourself to do that. You damned yourself for even being there in the first place. You still had the key to their apartment and opened the door so the slightly staggering Jake could make his way inside. You made sure to lock it tightly and returned your keys to your pocket before helping Jake get to a chair at the table.

“Here.” You opened the fridge, only to find…nothing.

There were about two tablespoons of butter, opened, several sauce packets strewn about, a moldy tomato, and about three-twelve packs of beer. You took note that one of the twelve packs was down a few beers. You let out a heavy sigh.

“Guess he’s living on air and beer then?” You slammed the fridge closed.

“There’s some ramen I think, in the cupboard.” Jake said, letting out a huff. “Steven would appreciate the taste of food you know…”

“Think he can handle it?” You opened the cupboard and found some packages of dried noodles. “Being here with me?”

“He’s calmed down. I think he will be ok.” And with that, Jake was gone.

“I’m fine.” Steven said, sucking in a deep breath. “Really.”

You grabbed some water from the tap and handed it to Steven whose hands were trembling. He drank from the cup in big gulps, when he finished it, you poured him some more.

“Let me make you something to eat.” You said, turning to the cupboards.

There wasn’t one pan that you could use. They were all in the sink, or on the stove, and they were all dirty. Of course this couldn’t just be easy.

“He usually just microwaves somethin’, or eats the noodles dry.” You groaned at Steven’s words.

“I…nevermind.” You wanted to say how frustrated you were to be there trying to make food for them, and running into every obstacle along the way, but you decided not to dump that on Steven.

Instead you ran the hot water and grabbed the sponge. You soaked it and then started washing the dishes, lathering soap on each one in silence, knowing Steven’s eyes were on your back. You felt saddened by the memories flooding through your head, thinking about all the times you’d been at the sink doing the dishes for them before.

------------------------

There was one time when Steven was fronting and he was sitting at the table while you did dishes after dinner, and he was going on about some Egyptian God you couldn’t remember the name of now. You were smiling in this memory, unable to suppress the joy that came to you while listening to him chattering on about his passions. When you’d finished scrubbing and turned to look at him. He was absolutely beaming, and so were you. You were…happy then.

“How did we get so lucky?” He asked, standing up and walking over to you.

He put his hands on your waist and kissed your forehead.

“Well, Jake’s a smooth talker, you’re thoughtful and sweet and Marc…” you trailed off.

You and Marc had never seen eye to eye. He was always pushing you away. Always telling you how he should just disappear and let Jake and Steven have the body so that you could be happy. But that wasn’t what you wanted, at least, that’s what you told him. You wondered what made you fall for him in the first place sometimes, but that didn’t matter now, you loved him, right?

“Marc what?” You watched his entire body language change, and he let go of you, stepping back. He chuckled, “hard to find anything to huh? What do I keep telling you?”

You groaned, wishing that he would’ve just let you and Steven have a nice evening, but you’d struck a nerve, and Marc loved to fight. He liked to make you feel bad, at least that’s how it felt, and then leave right when you pushed too far so that Jake or Steven were left to pick up the pieces. You tried to be understanding, you knew he had trauma, but sometimes he was just cruel.

“Please don’t start, Marc, not tonight I’m exhausted.” You walked toward the bedroom and he followed, hot on your heels.

“No! Don’t you walk away from me…!” He said your name with venom laced around each letter, “we never get to talk, the other two always get the best of you and then when I come in, you…you just walk away!”

You pressed your lips together tightly in frustration.

“Are you suggesting that when I see you, Marc, that you give me the best version of yourself? Hm? Because from the way I see it, every time you’re fronting, you treat me like you don’t fucking want me here!” You felt your eyes starting to gloss over. “Not to mention, you say I’m an ass for walking away? You always retreat into the headspace every single time we argue!”

“You ever think that maybe I actually don’t want you here? How many times have I told you to leave? If I treat you so badly, then just go!” He yelled.

“Why can’t you just stop being an asshole and then I don’t have to leave?! I don’t want to go Marc, I want you to love me and treat me like you want me around!” Now you couldn’t stop the dam from flooding over. Tears were coming down, and fast, and you knew it was only a matter of time before Marc dipped out. “I love you, I don’t want to go.”

“No, you don’t love me, you love Steven, and Jake, but not me.” He said, and his words were followed by silence that hung heavily in the air.

He was right, and you weren’t going to say it out loud, but he was right. When you’d first met them, it was just Marc at first. He was sweet, caring, he treated you like a princess. The more you got to know the boys, the more you grew to love them all, and the longer you were together, the more Marc started to push you away. Because you deserved better than him, and he was no good for you, or at least that’s what he said.

------------------------

That was the moment you’d realized you really didn’t love Marc anymore. You still held him in your heart, but the spark wasn’t there. Instead it was replaced with an anxiousness that pooled in your gut like a bad meal. You turned and looked at Steven once you’d finished the dishes. He was staring up at you from the chair with those big eyes you loved so much.

“Let me get this food going before he takes over again.” You grabbed one of the pots you cleaned and filled it with water before putting it on the stove.

When you turned around, Steven was standing with his hands balled into nervous fists at his sides, eyes trained on the floor. He did that when he wanted to say something but knew he shouldn’t. You put a hand on his shoulder and he relaxed a little bit and met your gaze.

“What is it?” You asked. “Talk to me?”

“No, nope, I’m, I’m fine.” He said, pressing his lips together tightly.

“Steven, it’s three am, I drove over here to help you, I washed the dishes and now I’m cooking you food. I think you can talk to me.” You said firmly.

He let out an exhale, “I miss you s’all.”

“I know, I miss you too. I just can’t…I can’t…”

“I know. I hate him too.” Steven looked agitated, more agitated than you’d seen him in a long time.

------------------------

The last time he was this bold regarding Marc was that same night, right after Marc had accused you of not loving him. After dropping those words on you, he left, letting Steven have you, the blubbering crying mess, that he’d left behind. It wasn’t the first time that you cried because of Marc, and each time chipped away at Steven more and more until he’d had enough too.

“Love,” he rushed over to you, pulling you in tightly, letting you soak his shirt for the umpteenth time, “you know if I could hit him, I would.”

You didn’t respond, you just sobbed into Steven’s chest, trying to let yourself be soothed by the gentle way he rubbed your back. You liked the way he smelled, the way they all smelled, and you kissed his chest just above where your tears had soaked his shirt.

“I love you, Steven, and I love Marc too.” You said, unsure whether you were trying to convince him or yourself, or maybe you were trying to convince the man hiding inside his own head.

“I know darling, I think he knows, he just gets caught up in his own head sometimes.” He chuckled, “well, I guess all three of us do.”

That forced a small amused breath to escape you. The air already felt lighter, and you were starting to cope with the emotional turmoil Marc had put you through. This was how it always went, Marc would start a fight, you’d be left with Steven or Jake, and slowly your emotions would come back to normal with the help of his alters just in time for him to break you down again. It was a never ending cycle.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” You murmured, pulling back. “Steven, I love you, I love all three of you but-“

He silenced you with his lips over yours.

“That’s enough of that.” He said in a forceful but quiet tone. “I’ll keep him in there if I have to, I’m not letting him push you away from us.”

You wanted to believe him, and you wished he’d been able to do it, but he couldn’t. That didn’t stop him from seizing the moment while he had it though, pulling you in for soft kisses and entangled tongues. Steven’s favorite body part was your breasts, that’s how you could tell sometimes if the boys switched mid session. One time Jake had taken over while Steven was buried in your chest and immediately began squeezing your rear.

Not now though, now Steven was dragging your shirt up while he trekked his hand over your abdomen on his way to squeeze your rounded mound. You gasped a heated moan into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck and entangling your fingers into his curls. The supporting hand on your back gripped tightly, pulling you in so hard you thought you might melt into one being.

“I love you, Steven.” You said, going in for more breathy kisses.

“I love you too darling.” He started slowly pushing you backward until the backs of your knees met the mattress.

You fell back, chest heaving. Steven was ripping off Marc’s jacket and shirt and you were quick to get your top off as well. He preferred you leave in your bra, he said he liked to take it off himself. Something about the way they looked when he unclasped the strap in the back, you didn’t fully understand, but you didn’t argue either.

“Wow…” he said, looking down at you. “You’re so beautiful, dove.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. You were sure you looked frightful, eyes puffy from tears, makeup streamed down your face, but Steven always told you how pretty you were, no matter what. He was good at that. He climbed over you, hovering his body closely over yours. You felt the peak of his erection pressing onto your leg through his pants.

“Oh, Steven…” you moaned, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling his lips to yours in deep, bruising kisses.

He was grinding himself on your leg, moaning every time he opened his mouth over yours in another wet and messy kiss. Supporting himself on one elbow, he reached around your back and unhooked your bra with one hand before disconnecting your lips to look at your chest. When he pulled the bra up over your arms, he stared in awe at your tits, wasting no more time before latching his mouth over one of them.

“Oh, f-fuck.” You stammered, gripping the back of his head.

One of his hands ran up your abdomen and grabbed your other nipple, pinching it between his fingers. You arched your back, pushing your chest further into his face and hand. You felt him gently churning his hips and grinding into you. He was sloppily sucking on your peak, covering your tit in his saliva.

“Mm, feels good baby.” You groaned, rolling your hips upward, wishing you’d taken your pants off before this.

Steven, who you’d thought would be the most timid when it came to sex, became silently demanding in the bedroom when it came to what you were and weren’t allowed to do. He liked to be the one to undress you, and he liked to be the one who started the physical piece. He liked to take his time, making you yearn until you nearly exploded the moment he entered you.

He leaned back. The shadow of his erection was oh so apparent in his sweats. It took everything inside of you not to sit forward and grab it. Steven’s little curl fell in front of his eyes, and he didn’t bother to brush it away as he unbuttoned your jeans and tugged them off.

“Oh love, look you’ve soaked straight through your little panties there.” He leaned over, burying his face in the fabric of your underpants and inhaling deeply. His pussy drunken eyes, hooded and dark, peered over your mound at you. “I’m just going to have a little taste, darling…just a little…” 

He moved your panties to the side and ran his tongue along your slit, flicking sharply once he got to your clit. A gasp escaped your lips as you shifted your hips forward toward Steven’s face. He pressed a large hand on your abdomen, holding you down.

“Sh-shit.” You gripped the sheets tightly.

Steven, despite Jake’s overall skill in the bedroom, was the best at eating pussy. The way his tongue glided over each part of your cunt, and the way he slurped and groaned to your taste like he was savoring each drop made you lose your mind. He knew to put a hand down to keep you in place, otherwise your hips would force him off the bed completely. He looked up at you, eyes dark and hungry, before looking back down at his work. You tangled one of your hands into his hair, urging him on.

“Mm, Steven you always know just…oh shit…just what to do baby.” You cooed, tugging at his curls

If there was one way to help you get over a fight with Marc, this was it, and Steven and Jake knew that. They’d fuck you until you could hardly walk and then cuddle you while you fell asleep.

------------------------

Steven was quiet now while you finished making the ramen noodles. You had to keep your back to him while you cooked, otherwise you were going to break down and fall into bed with him and that wouldn’t be good for either of you. Now that you were finished, he was sitting at the table again. You put the noodle bowl in front of him with a fork.

“I hope you like it.” You said genuinely.

Steven looked up at you, “it’s wonderful love, really.”

Steven seemed happy, at least, somewhat, to be getting some food in his stomach, even if it wasn’t the most nutritious. You wondered if he’d had the chance to enjoy any sort of meal since Marc had taken over, but from the way he and Jaked talked, this was the first time either of them had been out in a long time.

You kept trying to convince yourself that you didn’t care about Marc, but a big part of you was curious as to why he took over the boy all that time. The other part of you already kind of knew.

“He really has been fronting this whole time? Why?” You walked over and sat at the table across from Steven.

Steven shrugged, “you know him, he likes to suffer, thinks he’s some kind of hero if he takes the pain himself. A bit messed up innit? Usually once the pain part is over, I come out yeah? Not anymore, the pain part never ends. It’s just…he’s always hurtin’.”

“I’m surprised that Jake hasn’t taken over, when things get really tough, he’s usually right there, ready to deal with it.” You idly picked at a tear in the tablecloth.

“I think Jake likes watching Marc…well…destroy himself.” He stuffed some noodles in his mouth. Steven was probably the only person in the world who could talk with a mouthful that didn’t make you frustrated with their poor manners. “Problem is, it’s destroying us too, and I don’t want to die.” He gulped. “S’why I called you. I thought if anyone could help, it would be you.”

“I’m glad I could help get you home, but I’m…I’m not staying Steven.” The room got quiet again.

He reached a hand across the table and put it over yours. You should’ve stopped him. You should’ve pulled away and told him to cut the crap, but his hand, his gentle and soft hand made you feel warm. Nausea swept through you as you recalled more about your time with the boys.

------------------------

Marc was smiling from across the table at you, holding your hand tightly. You were smiling too. It had been a perfect night. It was New Year’s Eve, and you’d both decided to stay in, and spend it with each other. It was three nights before the breakup, three nights before he finally brought you to the breaking point. He laughed at a silly joke you made, and now he just looked at you with those eyes.

That’s why you’d fallen in love with Marc. He had a way of making you feel like you were the most important thing in the world to him. In fact, you were so important to him that he felt like you were better off without him. He had a troubled past, he didn’t hide that. He eased into telling you about the boys, afraid of scaring you off, but he told you about his mother and about his brother before you’d met the other two. In fact, knowing about his trauma was the only reason you didn’t call him crazy and leave when he told you about Jake and Steven.

He got up and leaned over the table, placing a peck on your forehead. He grabbed your plates and walked over to the sink, turning on the faucet to wash the dishes. Your phone buzzed. It was your brother.

Joe: Hey! I’m going to be in town tomorrow, is it cool if I come over?

“Oh, Joe is asking if he can come over tomorrow.” You paused. “Should be fine right?”

The dishes clanked in the sink and the faucet stopped. Not again, you thought.

“You act different when your brother is here.” He said, turning around and wiping his hands on a towel.

“He’s my brother, of course I act different with him than I do with-”

“No, I mean…you treat me different when he’s around.” He slapped the dish towel on the counter and walked to the living room.

You buried your face in your hands. It was a simple question. Can your brother come over tomorrow? There was no reason to say no, in fact, you only asked out of courtesy. It was a way of making sure you weren’t interfering with some unknown plans. Steven or Jake would’ve just said, of course, with some term of endearment attached to the end.

The night would be even worse if you didn’t follow Marc to the living room, so you got up and went to him. He was back to, staring out the window.

“Marc, I don’t want to fight with you, I’ll just text him and-”

“Yep, just tell him that your nutjob, douchebag boyfriend doesn’t want you around your family.” He said, keeping himself turned away from you. “Make me out to be the bad guy. You’re good at that.”

“Alright you know what? I’m not doing this, Marc.” You threw your arms up before walking to the door and grabbing your keys out of the change bowl.

“Yeah? So you’re just going to leave then?” He turned and looked at you now. “Good, it’s probably for the best.”

“Fuck you.” You slammed the door behind yourself.

You’d gone down to the parking lot and started your car but you didn’t leave yet. You just sat there, crying for a bit, thinking even more about what he’d said, you act different when your brother is here. You hated to admit when Marc was right, but you did act differently toward him. In fact, you downright avoided him. He and your brother didn’t always see eye to eye, and you hadn’t exactly told Joe about Marc’s…condition, so it wasn’t like one of the boys could take his place; Besides, you were sure that would’ve upset Marc even more, you asking one of them to replace him around your family. It would’ve made him feel even more inferior than he already did.

You further hated to admit that he didn’t deserve that. To do that would seem like you were ashamed of him. Like he was your little secret. The saddest thing though, was that it wasn’t the mental disorder that you were trying to hide from your brother, it was the way that Marc acted when your brother was around. You weren’t the only one that acted different with him around.

You laughed a lot, and joked with Joe, and you assumed Marc was probably jealous that you didn’t joke with him the same way, as though you hadn’t been close with your brother your entire life. So Marc would call Joe a punk and try to one-up him in almost everything, and it exhausted you.

While you sat there in your car, furious and thinking about what to do next, you surmised it must’ve been what Marc felt like, when he left the apartment in a huff, on the nights he didn’t hide behind the other two, and he went to the bar instead. You figured that if it worked for him, it would work for you, but you’d forgotten how busy it would be. You’d forgotten for a moment that it was New Year’s Eve.

That made it easier though. People were happy to buy you drinks, seeing that you’d walked into the bar in tears. Some guy offered to take you home, but you denied him, telling him you had three boyfriends waiting for you, to which he raised his eyebrows as if impressed and laughed. When you saw one of them out of the corner of your eye charging into the bar like he owned the place, you groaned.

The well dressed man in a paperboy cap and tie walked over, grabbing your arm.

“Come on, princesa.” You pulled back.

“Jake! I want to stay for one more song!” You shouted over the music.

“No, it’s time to go-”

You covered his mouth in a quick but gentle kiss, “por favor mi amor?” You asked as sweetly as you could.

Jake rolled his eyes, but you knew he couldn’t resist an opportunity to dance with you, especially not when you talked to him like that. A smile spread across his face as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Dancing with Jake was more like foreplay than it was dancing. It always started facing each other. His hips would gently churn against you while you stood as close as you possibly could to him, chest to chest. His lips hardly left yours, and when they did, they instead found purchase on your neck.

The dancing always ended with your rear pressed against his erection while he dry humped you to the rhythm of the song. His leather covered fingers were around your throat while he kissed the side of your neck and cheek tenderly, drawing moans from you that couldn’t be heard over the music. By the time you finally agreed to leave, you were drunk, and a single finger stroke away from a full body, earth quaking orgasm.

You’d driven far, at least a half hour from home, giving Jake more than enough time to stick his hand in your pants while he drove and circle the smooth gloved fingers over your swollen clit. You were already so wet, he slid around easily. You gripped the door handle when you reached climax, moaning and gasping under his touch.

It didn’t stop there though, it never was that simple with Jake. He was going to give it to you when you got home. You’d been teasing his cock all night, running your hand over it through his nice pants. He would give you hell later for ruining them, as though he actually cared. As though he didn’t have ten more pairs at home.

Something about Jake made you feel different than the other two. You wanted to act out, you wanted to be the biggest brat you could just to see how far he’d push you back. The back and forth with Jake was fun though, it always ended in at least one orgasm from both of you, and smiles before dozing off. You were his little brat, and he adored putting you in your place.

That night was no different. You stumbled inside, he chased after you, closing the door with his foot. You were already removing your jacket.

“Get naked for me, cariño, papi will be in to check on you soon.” He said, giving you that smirk that caused your knees to buckle.

You went into the bedroom and wasted no time at all stripping down completely naked except for your panties. Jake always wanted you to keep your panties on, especially if they were wet. You sat at the end of the bed, waiting for him to come in. Be still your beating heart when he did.

His hat was off, likely resting on the coat hanger by the door, his jacket had been discarded as well. He was the most well dressed of the three, and boy did he make you drool standing there like that. His tie was loosened. His button down shirt was rolled up exposing his strong forearms and hands. He wiped his mouth, you were in awe watching the veins in his hands shift under the skin. He was one of the few men you’d seen that could make suspenders sexy.

“Princesa, you know that’s not how I like to see you…” He smirked at you again, an evil but playful grin.

You rolled over on your stomach and then up on all fours, presenting your rear to him proudly. He cooed about how beautiful your ass looked with a thin lacy fabric wedged between your cheeks. He brushed his bare palm over one of them and then smacked it gently. You heard the shuffling of his clothes being removed, along with the clanking from the metal on his belt. 

The bed shifted when you felt him get behind you. His finger hooked under the waistband of your panties and slid down, pulling them out of your crack.

“Oh, look at you hermosa.” He used his other hand to feel around between your folds, drawing soft whines from you. “Did you like teasing me? Hm?”

“Yes, papi.” You groaned, lowering your head to the mattress and angling your rear up higher for him.

“You had a rough night, so I’ll go easy on you cariño.” He said, dropping his tie in front of your face.

You knew what to do. You put it around your neck, feeling the soft fabric against your throat, and then reached back, handing him the excess. You felt it tighten under his grip as he pulled back. Jake would never harm you, but he loved to hurt you. Sometimes he’d leave little bite marks that Steven would obsessively rub disinfectant over the next day. Other times he’d leave bruises on your waist from how hard he squeezed and fucked into you.

You’d teased him so much at the bar that he didn’t spend as much time on foreplay as he usually did, and instead kept your head level by tugging on his tie, and getting you in position to ravage you. Sliding into you was easy, you’d been ready since your orgasm in the car. He had one hand, squeezing on your hip that would periodically slap your asscheek and then go back in for a bruising hold over you.

“Si, princesa, you feel so tight, so…mmm.” He could usually last a long time, but you’d spent quite a while rubbing his cock on the dance floor, and he couldn’t hold out.

In truth you didn’t need Jake to last long though, the way he moved he always made you come, every single time. Almost every single time. On the few times he didn’t, he wasn’t afraid to get down behind you and eat his spend out of you while flicking his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves until you were gripping the sheets and begging for him to stop.

------------------------

You pulled your hand back from Steven’s, feeling a pang of guilt for holding it so long. You didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. As soon as your fingers left his, you saw the color leave his face. He dropped his fork and he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Marc.” You said quietly.

He said your name coldly. He was fairly sober at this point. You watched his throat bob as he swallowed harshly. He reached for the glass of water and gulped some down. He was surprisingly gentle when he put the cup back down. You’d expected him to slam it.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” He said. “But I guess now that I’m here, it’s time for you to leave right?”

“Marc, you told me to go. Remember?” You were already resisting your fight or flight response kicking in.

“Didn’t actually think you would go.” He sighed and shook his head. “Probably for the best, right?”

“Never better.” You slid your chair out, standing up.

“You look good…baby.” He said.

“Goodbye, Marc.” You weren’t going to do this…not again.

You’d almost made it to the door. Your hand felt the draft through the broken trim on the doorframe from when Marc pulled it open too harshly so many times. You felt his hand…usually he just let you walk away, but his hand touched yours and you couldn’t stop yourself from turning to face him.

“Marc why are you doing this…please just-”

He closed the tense space between you, covering your mouth in his over and over until you felt like you might collapse. Part of you still tried to pull back, but it was pointless, not because he was holding on too tightly, but because you weren’t trying all that hard. You’d given in to his tender touch, his desperation, his need to keep you.

All you’d thought about all night were the bad times, but there were some good ones too, and they came flooding in while he kissed you, one soft peck after another.

------------------------

You were sitting at the bar the night you’d met, alone, and the handsome man in a forest-green shirt sat down next to you. He caught your eye immediately with his gorgeous smile and the way his eyes wrinkled when he laughed. You were completely enamored from the moment you laid eyes on Marc, entranced by his very being. The two of you drank far too much, and shared far too much that night.

You weren’t one to put out on the first date, nor when it was your first time talking to someone, but you’d made an exception for Marc. You found yourself at his place that night, listening to him coo about how beautiful you were with his face buried in your neck. He was so sweet, gentle, and kind, you wanted to be around him more and more.

Your second date, a real date, was at a restaurant you both hadn’t been to, but talked about wanting to try through your texts. It was the worst food you’d ever had, but sneaking into the bathroom to get fucked over the sink was worth the time and money spent on the bad meal.

It was more than just the sex though, of course that was great, but it was the way Marc really made you feel like you could be yourself around him. He held your hand everywhere you went, as though you were a prize and he’d won and wanted to show you off. When you agreed to be his girlfriend he started looking for excuses to say it. He would call to order pizza and say, yes, for my half I’d like pepperoni and my girlfriend would like the other half with just cheese, please.

So on the nights that he got destructive, it made things even harder. You knew where it was all coming from. Guilt. He felt like you were too good for him, so he had the, push her away before she can push me away, and the, she’s not going to leave on her own so I need to make her leave, mentality. The good times made the bad times feel that much worse, and made it that much harder to walk away when it got really rough.

No matter what he’d thrown at you, you were willing to work through it with him, if only he’d let you. It was when the other two started coming around that things got really tough for Marc, seeing the way you were with them, how you smiled, and the way they made you so happy. For him, you assumed, it made him feel even more like he wasn’t good enough for you. He was jealous, full of hatred for his own shortcomings and unable to get over the pain he brought upon himself. If only he would’ve just talked to you, instead of pushing you away, you wouldn’t be in the position you were in right then.

------------------------

You couldn’t help giving in though, letting him peel off your clothing layer by layer until you were in just your panties, and he was completely undressed, pressed up against you in the bed. Steven was your selfless lover, the one who treated sex like an artform, savoring every single piece of your body as though it were sacred. Jake was your rough and tough beatdown guy who always knew when you needed to be put in your place, but Marc…Marc knew you.

He knew just how to suck on your neck to get you whining and whimpering in ways that the other two could never dream of. He knew just what to say to make you squirm underneath him, begging for more. He kissed you deeply now, feeling around in your soaking wet panties for your clit, circling over it when he found it. You groaned into his mouth.

“Oh wow, baby, so fuckin’ wet.” He said, sliding a finger into your hole easily. “Can’t believe how soaked you are just for me.”

You arched your back, gasping, “oh, shit, Marc.” You wrapped both arms around his neck.

“Tell me how good that feels, tell me baby…” He begged, desperate for your words of praise.

“It feels so…oh shit…you feel so good.” You kept your eyes locked on his while you said it.

He covered your mouth in bruising kiss after bruising kiss while he shoved another finger into your wet cunt. You tangled your fingers into his curls, reveling in the way his moans deepend under your touch. He was so warm and familiar, no matter how much you hated yourself for giving in to him, you couldn’t deny how wonderful Marc felt while he fingered you.

“I want you…” You said, the desperation in your tone pissed you off, but you didn’t care.

“You do?” He asked in between kisses.

“Yes.” You breathed.

Normally, Marc would get you off twice, once with his mouth, fingers, and one time he got you off with his thigh, and then the second time he would get you off was by fucking you until you couldn’t see straight. Tonight he was so glad to have you there, you could tell by how he acted, that he didn’t second guess your request. He wasn’t going to make you wait to feel him inside of you. You could probably ask him for the moon right now and he’d hand it over to you.

He pulled his fingers from you and immediately stuck them between your lips. His eyes rolled back, Marc loved having his fingers sucked on while he fucked into you. You felt his cock glide to your hole.

“I wanna hear you tell me how my dick feels when I fuck you, baby.” He took his fingers from your mouth to guide himself into your cunt.

Your head flew back, nearly hitting the headboard when he finally thrust himself into you. It took you a moment to come down from the initial wave that jolted through your body. While Steven and Jake were usually fixated on breasts or ass, Marc was stuck with his mouth on your neck, leaving bruising hickeys and forcing pained groans from your lips. You wished he was terrible in bed, at least then you would’ve been able to resist him.

“Tell me baby, say it, please.” Marc was so needy, so desperate for your words, but you weren’t going to give them to him.

“No.” You said in a moan.

He didn’t even look at you, he just kept pushing into you, faster and harder, as though he could fuck the words from your mouth. You liked when Marc got a little rough with you. When Jake was rough, it was methodical, controlled, and intentional; When Marc got rough, he was jagged, unpredictable, and downright messy. He would huff while his skin smacked against yours in repetition, voice becoming more and more wrecked with each thrust.

“You’re gonna play this game, huh?” He lifted his head up and looked at you, lips pressed together tightly, dark brow furrowed.

“Yeah, yeah I am.” You spat back. His hand reached up and gripped your throat. “You gonna start fucking choking me now?”

“As if you need another reason to hate me.” He said between thrusts.

You never expected that more fighting would do you in, that that would be what got you there, but it did. Your body was heating, pooling within your core. You leaned your head back, arched your body upward, you were so close. Then all at once you were empty, Marc pulled out of you, but kept his eyes trained on yours, and his hand around your throat. Asshole.

“Tell me how bad you want it, and maybe I’ll keep going.” He was breathing heavily.

“No.” You whacked his arm away and tried to get up.

You were on the edge of the bed, almost pressing the ball of your foot to the cool wood floor when Marc’s arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you back against his chest. Instinctively you’d spread your legs over his knees. His erection was prodding between your folds. You felt his chest rising and falling against your spine. One of his hands pinched your nipple while the other guided his cock back into your cunt.

“Tell me.” He said softly.

From this position he could easily tease your clit while he fucked upward into you. This angle made him feel deeper, like he filled every bit of your channel, all the way until he couldn’t go any further. You rolled your head back over his shoulder. You hated how intimate this position felt, but you loved how it made your entire body burn.

“F-feels good…” You were practically drooling, and when he started sucking on your neck it was even worse.

“I wanna hear you, keep going.” He grunted and groaned while he kept thrusting into your tight, wet hole.

“You…oh shit…you fuck me so good, please don’t stop.” You begged, nearly crying with the need to feel yourself crashing over his girth.

“That’s right, yeah…” He continued circling his fingers over your swollen clit. “You gonna come for me babe?”

“Yes, yes, please don’t stop M-Marc it feels, oh baby it’s so…” It was coming back again, the heat, the tingling that turned you into a ragdoll.

You felt Marc’s thick cock harden inside of you, and you knew he wasn’t going to deny you this time. His arms tightened and his fingertips pinched your nipple almost to an unbearable point of agony. His other fingers didn’t stop circling though, drawing your orgasm out of you in soft circular motions. You were a panting, crying mess while your walls clamped down over him, and he was no different, groaning and grunting into your ear while he shot his hot spend into you.

“Fuck, baby.” He said as he started coming down from his orgasm.

Once you were both done, and your mind was stabilizing once more, you felt nothing but hatred for yourself, and guilt for what the other two may have witnessed from the headspace. You were sure that Jake knew, but you’d hoped that Steven had managed to get some rest. Without looking back at Marc, trying to avoid your shame, you went to the bathroom and cleaned yourself up. When you looked in the mirror, you were disgusted with the woman looking back. You promised yourself you would never do this, you thought.

When you came back out, Steven was looking back, wearing nothing but his sweats. You sucked in a deep breath, feeling only sorrow. This was it…the point in the road where you had to choose, and you weren’t sure you were strong enough to make that decision, so you were glad when the boys chose for you.

“He…erm…he knows.” Steven said softly. You heard his voice cracking.

“He knows what?” You asked.

“He knows that you have to go, and that you aren’t coming back.” Steven pulled a shirt over his torso. “I’d rather you didn’t go, I’d rather he go but…”

“He can’t.” You helped him finish his sentence.

“Right.” His bottom lip began to quiver.

You knew that the part of Marc that loved you wouldn’t allow for him to completely give up the body while you were present, and therefore the two of you would always be at each other’s throats. You couldn’t have Steven and Jake without Marc, because Marc couldn’t stay away, he just couldn’t, and so you, for your own sake, had to go, and never come back.

“I really am going to miss you, Steven, and Jake.” You walked up and placed a kiss on Steven’s tear stained cheek. “And you too Marc.”

You didn’t turn back around when you left, you didn’t check to make sure that they were ok, you just put your clothes back on, grabbed your keys, and walked out the door. You weren’t sure if your visit to them would have left them saved, or if Marc would continue to spiral and destroy them all, but you couldn’t stay, that much you knew for sure, no matter how much it pained you to go.

You had to do what was best for you for once, even if it nearly killed you.

AO3 LINK

TAGLIST (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed): @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction, @my-secret-shame, @thatmomwitchfriend, @alexxavicry, @welcometostayingawake, @jake-g-lockley, @campingwiththecharmings, @steven-grants-world, @lia275, @minigirl87, @ahookedheroespureheart, @ninebluehearts, @in-between-the-cafes

[mint-yooxgi]

{10} - Morning Mist - Yandere!Dragon!Ateez X Chubby!Reader

Yandere AU & Dragon AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst

Pairing: Ateez X Reader 

Words: 4,615

Warnings: Not edited, I’m terribly sorry!! Death mentioned, OC refers to herself as ‘rotund’ cause she’s recalling memories, mentions of past trauma/implied imprisonment and whipping, self-blame. I think that’s all. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Next chapter is here, yay!! I apologize in advance cause it’s not edited, but I have work in the morning and it’s already super late for me. Please bear with the errors for now. Also, I know the boys aren’t really in this chapter, but there’s quite a bit of plot, and two are hidden in the scenes, so I wonder if you can guess which two they are? 👀 As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I do not do tag lists.

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Mini Masterlist

Normally, the time it takes you to travel from your place to the Neo’s nest, or vice versa, is about fifteen minutes by foot. You make it home in five.

Jeno follows close behind you the whole time, and you can feel Jisung flying at his top speed towards your place all the while. It should only take your youngest another minute before he arrives.

“Jeno-“

“I’ll leave as soon as he gets here,” he promises. “I just want to make sure you’re both okay.”

You smile softly at your cub, extending your hand out to caress his cheek tenderly.

“I have some of the sweetest boys in the world,” you hum, throat tightening at the care he shows the both of you.

“Because you raised us well.” He leans into your touch, eyes fluttering closed briefly.

A moment later, and there is a large crash in your backyard. Dirt flies everywhere, sobs of pain being muffled into the earth.

“Oh, My Little Jisungie,” your expression immediately fills with nothing but concern as you move to kneel beside the weeping dragon. “I’m right here.”

In the blink of an eye, he’s wrapped his arms around your lower waist, sobbing violently into your chest. You briefly meet Jeno’s gaze, noticing how the male nods subtly before backing off. He shoots one final concerned glance towards you and his brother before disappearing back into the woods.

You’ll both be okay. Besides, you’ll call if you need anything.

“She’s gone,” he wails, tightening his grip around you. “The love of my life is gone.”

Quietly, you shush him, running your fingers gently through his hair all the while. The best thing for him right now is to let out all of his emotions without you interrupting. It’s better for him to expel that energy, rather than keeping it all bottled up inside and letting it consume him. You know first hand what that is like.

“I’m right here, Ji.” You coo, cradling him in your arms and feeling his entire body shaking against your own. “Let it all out. I’m right here.”

He chokes on a sob, “she’s gone, and she’s never coming back.”

“Shhh,” you place your lips against the side of his head, grip holding him a little tighter in your arms. “It’ll be okay. It will all be okay.”

“I couldn’t do anything to save her.” His voice is strained from the weight of his emotions. “I promised her we’d always be together, that I’d always protect her, and I’ve let her down.”

The broken sob he releases breaks your heart, the organ squeezing painfully in your chest.

“You know that’s not true, Jisungie,” you voice softly, nothing more than a tender caress just like your one hand that now strokes comfortingly down his spine. “You gave her a long life with the person she loves most. She told me that’s all she’s ever want, and it was you who fulfilled her every wish.”

Your words have him choking on his sobs, breath stuttering in his chest as he buries his face into the side of your neck.

“I could have done something,” he tightens his own grip around you. “I should have done more.”

“You did all you could.” You assure him gently.

“You don’t know that!” He snaps, pulling away from you instantly. “I should have saved her! I should have figured out a way to extend her life so she didn’t have to die in pain!”

“When it comes to death, I am more familiar with it than you know, My Child.” You reply softly, watching as he stands before you now, pacing lightly as rage courses through his entire being. “Hyemin did not die in pain. She died peacefully in the arms of her most treasured love. That’s more than many others can say of their imprinted.”

His shoulders sag slightly, pausing momentarily in his steps as he looks to the ground. “I’m never going to get to see her again.”

“You will.” You hum, somewhat knowingly.

“No.” He shakes his head, more tears falling freely from his eyes. “I won’t. I won’t get to see her smile anymore. I won’t be able to hear her laughter, or feel her touch. I won’t be able to comfort her after a long day, nor will I ever be able to cook her meals or bring her flowers. She’s gone, and without her, I am lost.”

Your expression falls as you see your cub looking so broken in front of you. Shamelessly, he wipes as his eyes, more sobs wracking his body as grief consumes him.

Slowly, you stand back to your feet.

“My Child,” you meet his tear filled gaze as you extend your hand out to him, “come with me.”

He looks from your hand back to your face, blinking to clear his vision. Carefully, he takes a step towards you, reaching out his own hand to place it gently in yours.

“I know of the devastating grief you are feeling, for I have also experienced such a tremendous loss throughout my own life.” You begin, walking with him slowly to the edge of the woods. “There is no pain greater than losing the one you love, but they are never truly gone.”

Jisung remains quiet. The only indication you receive that he’s listening is a slight sniffle in response.

“Your brothers and I are here for you, for there are none who have experienced the same as much as we have.” You continue. “I want to show you something now, though. A special place where you can go, whenever you want. A place that Hyemin will rest with the others, for as long as our protection lasts. A place you can visit her, find comfort, and grieve.”

The next twenty minutes or so are spent with you leading Jisung through the woods and to your special spot. All that can be heard are your soft footfalls, and Jisung’s sniffling every now and then. Often, you squeeze his hand, silently reassuring him that you’re right here, and you will not be leaving him any time soon. A fact which has him squeezing back more often than not.

Reaching the small clearing you take a deep breath, stopping just short of the protection stones.

“I have brought each of your brothers here after they have lost someone important. It is a place for all of us. A safe space.” You tell him, turning to meet his gaze. You watch as he nods softly in response, reaching a hand up to brush away his lingering tears with the back of his hand. “You may come to visit at any time you wish, for this is now your space as well. My Daisy was the first, and she will gladly watch over Hyemin along with all of the others.”

Slowly, fireflies begin to dance in the air around you, their gentle lights twinkling like the stars above.

You step through the barrier.

A small gasp escapes Jisung’s lips as he sees the stone monument in the centre of the clearing. Shifting his gaze, he takes in the small pebbles surrounding the area, and the sudden warmth he feels encompassing his entire form. Almost as if he’s being wrapped in one of your warm hugs.

“These stones all represent someone we have lost, and every time one is placed, a new firefly comes to live in this clearing.” You tell him, leading him over to the centre monument. “This was originally just Daisy’s grave, but as I’ve said before, loss affects every single one of us. It’s comforting to know that they all watch over each other, and us, from the other side.”

A choked sob escapes Jisung’s lips as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. His body automatically turns to yours, and you immediately have him wrapped in your arms without another thought.

Resting beside that stone marker, you both sink to your knees.

“I know you probably feel as if you are suffocating right now, Ji,” you say, keeping your voice soft as he sobs into your neck. “As if the weight of the entire universe is on your shoulders. You’re asking yourself why it was her, and not you. Why she had to be taken at all. I know you feel as if you didn’t do enough, that you let her down in some way. I want you to know that you didn’t let her down at all. I know those words are going to be hard to believe right now, and I know you don’t want to listen to me prattle on all night given the hurt so near. I just want you to know that I am here for you, and Hyemin is, too. Those that we love never truly leave us. They are always with us, both in spirit, and memory. Please, never forget that.”

A brief silence before you feel him nod against your skin.

Finally, you breathe a sigh of relief. He seems to be calming down.

Softly, a firefly dances around his head.

“Jisungie,” your tender call of his name draws his attention, pulling away slightly to look into your eyes. Your gaze flicks to the firefly beside his head. “Look.”

It takes him a moment, but the second he turns to see that little firefly dancing beside his head, you hear his breath hitch.

“Hyemin?” He nearly chokes on his breath, her name but a broken plea from his lips.

“There is another reason why I guard this place so ferociously,” you reply, gently unwrapping yourself from him and standing back to your feet. “I’ll give you two a moment alone.”

You go to step away, only to feel Jisung reach out and grab your hand in his.

Turning back to him, you smile softly. “It’s okay, Jisungie. I’ll be right outside those stones if you need me. Say what you have to. I promise I won’t listen in.”

Squeezing his hand reassuringly once more, you drop your grip. A few seconds later, and you’ve stepped outside the protective circle. Sparing a final glance over your shoulder, you see Jisung stand back to his feet as a swarm of fireflies converge, taking the form of his now deceased lover. A young woman who smiles kindly at you, bowing her head in acknowledgment as the dragon before her falls to his knees.

Tilting your head in acknowledgement, you wave a hand over the clearing. Instantly, the image of Jisung standing with a young Hyemin disappears, blending into the forest around you. A sound barrier goes up as well, giving them as much privacy as you can. Besides, you’ll feel Daisy’s tender caress on your cheek again when they’re done.

Turning your back to the clearing, your eyes scan the forest in front of you, narrowing ever so slightly. There are two faint presences you can sense drawing near, their scents on the wind. You’ll do whatever you can to avoid them for now, but if they do not cause a scene, neither will you. You have more important things to worry about tonight.

For twenty minutes, your eyes scan the forest, locking in on the specific spot you sense those two presences resting. You’re unsure if they’ve also sensed you since you haven’t really been shy in hiding your aura this time around. However, you’re not sure if it’s been enough to keep them away. They’re just out of range for you to be certain.

A cool brush against your cheek alerts you to the shifting presence behind you.

Instantly, you drop the sound barrier, hearing Jisung walking towards where you know he sees you to be standing. You take the liberty to step back over the threshold, nearly startling the younger dragon as he looks from his feet to see you suddenly closer than before.

Once more, he falls into your arms. Though, this time, the breath he releases is one of relief, rather than simply filled with pain.

Softly, you run your fingers through his hair. “Better?”

He hums. “Better."

“Do you want to head back, or would you like to stay for a little while longer?”

A firefly dances in the corner of your vision. One which Jisung seems to notice as well.

“Can we stay?” He pulls away enough to stare into your eyes. “Just for a little bit longer?”

“Of course, My Cub,” you tenderly caress his cheek. “We can stay for as long as you’d like.”

Carefully, the both of you walk over to the cliff face, sitting yourselves down and allowing your legs to dangle freely off of the edge. Jisung leans into you, and you make sure to keep your arm securely wrapped around his shoulders. The whole time, fireflies dance around your heads.

“Hyemin told me not to cry anymore.” He sniffles lowly, wiping at his lingering tears with the back of his hand.

“Whatever was said between the both of you does not have to be shared with me, My Child.” You tenderly rub the side of his arm. “That was for the two of you, and the two of you only.”

Softly, you feel him nod against your side. Then, after a moment, “it still hurts.”

“Of course it does, My Cub,” you hum, staring out over the vast scenery before you. The river shines beneath the light of the moon, the peaks of the mountains being illuminated by its brightness. “The pain is all too fresh, and it will linger for some time. It will be harsh, and demand to be felt at times, but you cannot let it consume you. I’m sure that’s not what Hyemin would have wanted for you.”

You feel him shiver within your hold, and you just know he felt her caress just as you have felt Daisy’s so many times before.

“Is this-“ he stops himself short, clearing his throat lightly as his voice drops to a mere whisper, “is this what you felt when you lost Daisy?”

“Everyone experiences loss differently, just as I will feel pain in other ways that you will not.” You reply, taking a somewhat deep breath to steady your nerves. Then, you turn to meet his gaze. “But, yes. Though, my circumstances were far different than yours.”

A gentle breeze drifts through, and you swear you catch her scent on the wind.

“Will you tell me about her?” Jisung looks up at you through his lashes, wide eyes glistening beneath the light of the moon. “The story of how you two met?”

“You never grow tired of this one, do you?” You chuckle fondly, noticing how a faint pink dusts his cheeks. “Alright, I’ll tell you again.”

Jisung smiles lightly, curling deeper into your side.

“It was spring when I first saw her,” you begin, staring back out at the valley before you. “She was paddling across the fjord with a boat full of supplies, and a dream. I watched her set up camp, hiding myself away in the bushes before returning home every night. Back then I was a bit of a troublemaker myself, so sneaking out was no issue.”

The way you ruffle his hair slightly has a whine escaping his lips.

You smile affectionately before continuing, “one day, I saw her fishing in the creek. Unfortunately, I wasn’t as stealthy back then as I am now, so I lost my footing and fell right into the water.”

He laughs at this. He always does every time you tell him this story, and it makes your heart warm.

“I still enjoy the mental image of you waddling out of the creek, clothing drenched and water dripping off of you.” He grins, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I got lucky though. I managed to grab hold of a fish before leaving to shore.” You chuckle fondly, recalling the memories now. “I can never forget the look she gave me as I proudly declared I ‘caught one’ as I left the water. Your Aunt Daisy was an expressive woman, emotions painted on her features for all to see.”

“I would have been so embarrassed.” Jisung comments.

“I was,” you hum. “I could tell she thought I was the most bizarre creature she had ever come across that first meeting. Yet, she was kind enough to invite me to cook the fish we had caught by the fire with her.” Your eyes twinkle, lips tugging upwards once more. “I couldn’t say no.”

“I can’t count the amount of times I made a fool of myself in front of her,” you recall, a gentle rumble to your tone. “She never once put me down for it, or treated me strangely. I have always been what some villagers might refer to as ‘rotund’, but Daisy never once treated me any differently than anyone else. She never looked down on me, or thought little of me for my appearance, and she had so many brilliant ideas.”

“We found this little clearing one night when we went hiking through the woods. It was a risk on my part, since I could usually get away with being away from home during the day time. However, as soon as night fell, it was harder to hide from my father.” You look downwards, somewhat sadly. “We sat in this very spot, talking for hours. I don’t even remember half of the topics we discussed, but I do remember every bit of how I felt. How she made me feel.”

“How did she make you feel?” Jisung asks, eyes wide as he stares up at you.

You smile, shifting to meet his gaze as you brush some strands of hair away from his eyes. “Like the happiest person on earth.”

Jisung smiles, looking out across the valley as he recalls how Hyemin always made him feel the exact same way.

“I felt like I was floating whenever I was with her. Nothing else mattered to me: not my training, not my father, not even who or what I was.” You recount, a few tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. “With her, I could just be. I didn’t have any expectations of her, and she didn’t have any of me.”

“I can still remember how it felt for her to hold my hand,” you faintly smile down at your left palm. “Her touch was so gentle, and so unbelievably soft, that I thought she couldn’t be real. The moment she told me she wanted to create a town for herself, some place safe where she could live, and not worry about people judging her intelligence, I immediately agreed. I told her I would help her, and we could start this town together.” You smile. “So we did.”

“I don’t exactly know when I fell in love with her, but I can still remember the day my father cornered me about imprinting on a human.” Your expression turns dark in the next moment. “He’s always had my best interests in mind, but it doesn’t always come out the way he intends them to. He warned me that it could never last; I didn’t know what I was getting myself in to, and I should quit while I’m ahead.”

“Of course, I didn’t listen.” You grin, though there’s a sadness shining behind your eyes now as the first of your tears begin to trail down your cheeks. “The very next day, I confessed to her, and was overjoyed to learn she felt the same way. We spent years together, and I would always bring her Daisies on our anniversary. She would always smile and laugh at that, hitting me with the bouquet a few times. To this day, I can never look at those flowers the same way, unless they are in this clearing with her.”

Jisung’s grip tightens the slightest bit around you, offering you what little comfort he can while you comfort him.

“It was a little rough when I told her of my true nature, but My Daisy was headstrong,” you chuckle, somewhat sadly. “She knew I was different, and almost figured it out before I even told her. You see, Little One,” you nudge him lightly, “sometimes when our emotions are heightened, we cannot control the shifting of our eyes.”

“Believe me,” he huffs out a laugh through his nose, nodding along with you. He cannot count the times this has happened to him, especially with Hyemin around. “That I do know.”

“We had three years together after we finished building this town.” Your voice hitches slightly in your throat as you wipe at your cheeks with the back of your free hand. “Three years before they took her away from me.”

“I know you’ve mentioned the hunters before, but could the ones from town now really have done that? If their ancestors are anything like they are, then you should have been able to take them. Easily.” He frowns, swinging his legs slightly as he continues to rest over the cliffside with you.

“There is a reason the hunters in this town are the way they are now,” you breathe. “I will never let another true hunter set foot on my territory again. Let alone them.”

“What happened?” His sorrowful gaze turns to you.

“Are you sure you want to learn of Daisy’s death tonight, My Cub?” You tenderly stroke the side of his face. “It is already a melancholic evening, I do not wish to make it worse.”

Jisung ponders your question for a moment before turning away. His gaze is full of sorrow as he stares down at the treetops below. “No. Maybe not.”

You nod lightly. “That is, perhaps, a wise decision.”

A small silence settles around the both of you, allowing the comfort of resting in each other’s embrace to calm you for the moment. That is, until Jisung is standing back to his feet. Before he can even say a word, you’re raising a palm into the air.

“You do not need to explain your grief process to me, Jisung.” You meet his gaze, noticing the way his eyes shine with newly unshed tears. “Do what you have to do. All I ask is that you do not bring harm to yourself, or anyone else. Take all the time you need. No matter how far you go, I will find you if we need you.”

Jisung says nothing, only being able to nod his head. Slowly, he bends down, placing a lingering kiss onto your forehead, and you know that this is his way of thanking you for everything tonight. 

You smile weakly. “Be safe, My Cub.”

Without another word, Jisung is jumping from the cliffside, shifting midair and flying off into the night. This time, when a cry echoes through the air, it’s not as piercing or devastating as the first. Instead, it is a cry of hope. Of a love lost, yes, but well lived, and sorrowful. A cry which is echoed by his brothers in the distance.

You sigh faintly, leaning back onto your hands as you watch that little beige dragon disappear around one of the mountains. Your whole body trembles, fingers digging into the dirt beneath your nails as you attempt to control your thoughts. Reliving those memories of Daisy has only made the tragedy of her death all the more fresh in your mind, even if it’s been hundreds of years.

Still, those two presences linger at the edge of your senses, but you pay them no mind.

Another tear slides down your face.

“Did I do the right thing?” You wonder aloud, keeping your voice low as you curl in on yourself. “Will Jisung be okay on his own now?”

A tender caress against your cheek wipes away one of your tears. You lean into that phantom touch more than you know.

“I can still remember how lost I was when I lost you. Though, I didn’t have time to grieve like he did.” You’re thinking out loud for the moment, but the words help to expel those negative emotions you’re currently feeling. “When I was finally freed, and I could allow myself to feel again, I was devastated.”

A firefly lands on your knee.

“I was in the dark for over five-hundred days, Daisy.” Your voice cracks. “They took my light, and then they tried to break me.”

You raise your wrists, the weight of the iron chains still heavy on your skin. Faintly, you can just make out the scars that still line your body.

A hand caresses the top of your skull, brushing over your head lightly. The comfort is brief, but welcomed all the same.

“I will never forgive them for what they did.” You voice, somewhat harshly. “Not to you. Not to an innocent human who only wanted to love and live in peace.”

A sob shakes your entire body.

“I deserved it.” You mutter after a moment, nothing more than a whisper on the wind. “Every lash they gave me for five-hundred and two days, I deserved for failing you.”

A rustling from the bush behind you has you whipping your head around, guard high. You didn’t sense anyone sneaking up on you, but then again, your mind hasn’t been in the best state for the past few minutes or so. Luckily, at the familiar aura you feel, your shoulders are instantly relaxing.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Renjun hums as he easily steps over the threshold of the barrier. At seeing your distressed state, worry immediately takes over his features. “Are you okay?”

You clear your throat, wiping at your lingering tears, “I’m fine.”

Renjun purses his lips. He knows as well as you do that you’re lying to him right now, but he doesn’t press.

“Jisung will be home after he’s done his grieving process.” You say, pushing yourself back to your feet in the next moment.

Renjun nods his understanding, blinking a few times as he looks around the clearing. For a brief moment, his eyes linger on one particular rock, a sad smile pulling at his features before he’s looking back at you.

The silence that stretches on between you as you hold his gaze is deafening.

He swallows. “You know it wasn’t your fault-“

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You cut him off, though your voice doesn’t have the same sharpness to it that it usually does.

Pursing his lips, Renjun lets out a small sigh through his nose.

“Alright then,” he replies, watching as you walk closer to him before he’s falling into step beside you. Carefully, he wraps his arm around your lower back, and he swears he sees a flash of gold out of the corner of his eyes. “Let’s get you home before that Hala bites my head off.”

Your brow furrows slightly. “Have they not left yet?”

“The two older ones did,” he replies, helping you step through the bush. “At least they have some etiquette when it comes to other dragon’s grieving.”

“Tell me how you really feel, Junnie,” you manage a small chuckle, sniffling in the next second.

“Those other three ask too many questions, I don’t know how you can put up with them.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know if your two disciples are still at your house, but I know the youngest won’t leave until he sees you return safe and sound.”

The corner of your lips twitch upwards faintly, though you hardly seem to notice the action. However, Renjun does.

“Come on,” he sighs, a knowing smile flashing across his features. "Let’s get you home.”

[tapwater118]

pinned post jumpscare blauughh

pronouns.cc

hiya i’m flower!

i also go golf ball, GB, needle, tap water, tap, captain coinpin (<- silly). queer person on the internet with too many names, check

she/her, they/them, che/chem. 21 yo

fictkin with flower, golf ball, needle bfdi (if you couldn’t tell from the first sentence)

i like various things and then will proceed to draw them. big fat bfdi/osc special interest mostly (i am a huge multishipper (based) btw so erm yeah)

feel free to use my art and such as pfps/banners/whatever, just give credit pls

let the record show that i am bad at using social media so uh i am probably a terrible mutual sorry in advance

also if i like over explain something to you please do not take it as a slight against you, i am just autistic (as if it wasn’t obvious)

if ya wanna know more, feel free to shoot up the ask box or dms, i love answering questions. i also like taking requests over asks! just note that it may be some time before i get around to your request

(regarding dms, please come in with something more than ‘hi’. i’m not comfortable initiating conversation with someone im not familiar with.)

(also don’t flirt with me. you don’t have a rat’s chance)

things you’ll probably see me blabber about/draw at some point:

object shows (particularly bfdi, but i also fw inanimate insanity, hfjone, boto, animatic battle, team room 125, orb, burner, object kerfuffle, love of the s*n, ppt2, itft, and others im probably forgetting) (oh and idfb fear garden tee hee)

mario

kirby

pikmin

undertale/deltarune

pizza tower

fnf

homestuck

fnaf

petscop

horror stuff in general

regretevator

to be expanded once i remember more stuff

(art may be suggestively crude in humor but never nsfw)

(also if you ask i can always add tags to stuff if you have something in particular you want to mute, i dont mind)

i am working on some cool projects i think you should check them out because they are cool:

Occasionally Coinpin: hosted over at @occasionallycoinpin. posting coinpin, occasionally (the main reason you don’t see coinpin content here all that often)

Book Askblog: hosted at @twotonedhardcover, where i pretend to be a gay little novel for shits and giggles

Battle for Hopes and Dreams: a bfdi x undertale au that puts the characters of bfdi in the world of undertale. tagged as “#battle for hopes and dreams”

Competition for Fantasy Retreat: a bfdi swap au that swaps characters’ compositions and parts of their personalities. tagged as “#competition for fantasy retreat”

BfDI 1990: an unfiction reimagining of bfdi as an NES game from 1990. tagged as “#BfDI1990” (unreality content warning for this). please note that this is NOT an ARG, there is no game or puzzle to be solved, it is simply unfiction

Tap’s BFDI D-Side: a bfdi d-side take, where characters’ designs and personalities are remixed for something new and refreshing! (based on fnf d-sides obviously) tagged as “#tap’s bfdi d side”

BFDI Redux: a hypothetical bfdi season 6, featuring many of the tpot rejects as well as underutilized veterans. tagged as “#bfdi redux”

OSC horror content: i like turning the silly blorbos into fucked up evil creatures. general tag is “#FLApasta” but each story has its own separate tag (general content warning for these)

other tags i’ll use frequently i think:

“#asks” all the crud that ends up in my inbox and also some very nice things. it is a mystery

“#yap fest” for general inane ramblings. i say some very stupid things

“#ultra yap fest” for long posts, including rants and character analyses

“#slop tier post” art and other things that are generally below a certain threshold of quality i hold for myself. i’m probably too harsh on myself but oh well

“#word salad yummy yummy” fanfic stuff. im on ao3 and wattpad if ya didnt know

“#top tier post” “#all the day every day” “#one for the ages” posts that i really really like. usually from moots

“#literally me” fictkin id posts. you get it. no you don’t. i don't get it either

“#oiny” wife

[aebi12]

"Resentment" - Chapter 12 [AemondxRhaena]

Summary

He is the cause of her sufferings. He took her dragon, her betrothed, and her father. Now, he will also take away her future by having to marry him.

With so much history and bad blood between Rhaena and Aemond, their forced union has everything to fail, except that the proximity will make them discover that perhaps they have more in common than it seems.

AU - the Greens win the war.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11

Masterlist of my other works.

Tags: enemies to lovers, romance, angst, drama, eventual smut, hurt/comfort

Please remember that english is not my first language, so I'm sorry for the mistakes...

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"It was during that darkness that the Others first appeared. They were cold things, dead things, who hated iron and fire and sunlight, and every creature with warm blood in their veins. They devastated villages, cities and kingdoms. They defeated heroes and armies. They were innumerable, always on the backs of white and dead horses, at the head of hosts of corpses. Not all the swords of men could stop their advance, nor did the maidens or the breast babies awaken their compassion. They hunted the girls through the frozen forests and fed the flesh of human children to their dead servants.”

The sudden sound of the door closing makes her gasp, and close the book. Heart pounding in her chest, Rhaena directs her gaze to the other end of the room.

“Rhaena! Why are you still in bed?” Marianne's voice is full of impatience. The lady frowns when she comes close to her friend, and observes her tired and haggard expression, “Are you feeling ill?”

“I was reading,” Rhaena shakes her head.

“Did you spend all night reading?” she asks astonished

“Not all night,” Rhaena blushes, “I slept for a few hours.”

Marianne sighs and closes her eyes for a few moments. “It is an important day, you should have gotten dressed by now.”

“Surely we still have a few hours before I have to…”

“No, no more reading for today,” Marianne walks around the bed until she reaches the book, quickly taking it in her hands as she guesses Rhaena’s intentions to continue with her favorite pastime, “Honestly, how interesting can this be? Boring fiction about the North”

“Not at all!” Rhaena is quick to say, “It is quite fascinating, actually, reading about the terrible winter that descended upon the entire continent. Did you know that the Others rode spiders the size of horses? They were death itself."

“Stop it, I have no desire for horror stories,” Marianne shudders.

“Oh no, Marianne, let me tell you about what I read, who else am I going to share all this new information with?”

“Prince Aemond, of course,” Marianne places the book on one of the tables, “Since he so kindly lent you the book, he might as well hear your opinions on it.”

Rhaena sighs and her gaze drifts once more to the worn cover of the book. Could it be that her cousin enjoyed the stories as much as she did? Was that the reason the book seemed so aged? Or was it just another copy already worn out by the passing of the years?

“Don't you want to know more about winter?”

“The only thing I know about winter is that it is cold, bad for crops and commerce. And, luckily it is not upon us yet,” Marianne approaches the bed, removes the covers from Rhaena's body and extends her hand towards her, “Otherwise the merchants of Lys would not have been able to bring this.”

The lady shows Rhaena a couple of small glass bottles.

"What are they?" she asks, curious, examining the content

“Face and lip powder,” she replies with a smile.

Rhaena's smile widens as well as she climbs out of bed. “You look beautiful today, by the way,” she says after really taking in the appearance of her friend, who is wearing a yellow, almost ocher dress, with delicate details of seashells, the emblem of her house, which accentuates her delicate figure. Her hair, loose in soft waves, falls to her back, framing her heart-shaped face. “Looking to impress someone?”

“You know who I'd like to impress isn't here,” Marianne responds in a discouraged voice, “But my uncle Tyland wants me to take the opportunity to meet future suitors.”

“Surely you already know all the courtiers who live here?” Rhaena takes off her nightgown and puts her hair in a high bun.

“Well…” Marianne interrupts her respond to give instructions to the maids who fill the bathtub, “Some of the guests to your wedding have already arrived at the Fortress and will attend the banquet.”

“Oh, I did not know that,” her stomach twists at the thought of the wedding. Rhaena steps into the tub, rejoicing in the hot water, which calms her immediately.

“Yes, maybe we will meet someone interesting today.”

"Maybe"

Rhaena quickly carves her body with the sponge while her friend prepares the dress, jewelry and shoes she will wear at the banquet with the help of the maids.

“You should have slept a little more, you look too tired,” Marianne says disapprovingly after Rhaena has already gotten out of the bathtub, inspecting the dark circles on her friend's face.

“Relax, Anne, I do not need to look especially put together today. I am already betrothed, remember?”

“Still,” the lady shrugs, “Come on, help Lady Rhaena get dressed,” she instructs the servants, who quickly place Rhaena inside the dress, their deft fingers buttoning the back buttons, “I would know it would fit you perfectly”

Rhaena walks to the bedroom mirror and observes her figure, “It is tighter than what I usually wear,” she comments as she moves from side to side.

“Nonsense, it looks perfect on you,” her friend repeats.

Rhaena offers her a smile, “Thank you, Marianne, I just hope it is discreet enough for the ceremony. The neckline is much more revealing than the ones I wore all week during the festival.”

“Right, I didn't particularly think about that,” Marianne observes her friend, “We could try putting down a muslin or…”

“No, no,  it is too pretty a dress to add anything out of place,” Rhaena denies, taking in once again her slim figure accentuated by the cut of the dress. The color, subtle and feminine, looks wonderful on her skin tone.

"Sure?" When Rhaena nods, Marianne continues, “Well, you will need an appropriate necklace.”

“I'll use the one Aemond bought for me.”

“The butterfly one? But it is…”

"Simple?"

"Yes"

Rhaena takes the necklace from her dresser, “It will be a sign of goodwill, in my opinion, that I wear something he gave me since I will not be wearing one of the dresses he sent for me”

“I guess you are right,” Marianne agrees, “Your hair then…”

Her friend spends the next few minutes skillfully braiding her hair and applying the Lys powder, which gives a pinkish touch to her cheeks and lips. Pleased with the result, Rhaena applies her rose perfume and links arms with Marianne.

"Ready?"

“Excited,” Marianne nods, “You know how much I enjoy dancing.”

“As do I,” Rhaena giggles, “And I have a feeling we are going to have a pleasant time today.”

***

Aemond plays with the hem of his doublet as he watches Rhaena and her lady-in-waiting advance slowly, laughing carelessly and unaware of his presence waiting for them at the end of the corridor.

When they finally notice the prince, it is almost funny how their expressions and postures change.

“Good morning, my prince,” it is Rhaena's lady who greets him, bowing appropriately.

“Lady Westerling,” he replies, nodding.

His greeting seems to astonish the young woman, who stares at him for several seconds before exchanging a look with her lady. Aemond raises his eyebrows in her direction, not understanding the reaction.

“Cousin,” Rhaena offers him a kind smile, “I thought we'd meet at the party.”

“I figured the most appropriate thing would be to arrive together, after all and as you reminded me yesterday, we are the guests of honor.”

“I guess you are right,” she admits, her smile widening.

“I'll see you inside,” the Westerling girl says to Rhaena, who takes her hand and squeezes it goodbye. She bows to the prince again and strides toward the double doors at the entrance to the hall.

“Your lady-in-waiting seemed a little…” Aemond leaves the idea hanging.

“I think she was just amazed that you remembered her name.”

“I am able to remember the names of the members of the court,” he replies coldly. If he was honest, he didn't remember the girl's name, but the seashells embroidered on her dress had been enough of a clue for him to remember her house.

“I never said otherwise”

Their gazes meet and Aemond stares at the violet tone of her eyes for a few moments before looking away to her cousin's outfit.

“That's not one of the dresses I sent you,” he comments disapprovingly.

"No, it is not. This is a gift from Marianne, beautiful, don't you think?”

"Hmm"

Aemond thinks he sees the beginnings of a smile on Rhaena's face, but he just turns his back on her and starts walking towards the hall.

The guards bow to both of them and announce their arrival as they open the double doors. Rhaena's perfume invades him once again due to her closeness, and Aemond is tempted to glance at her out of the corner of his eye, but she has positioned herself to his left, so he finds nothing but darkness.

The hall, one of the many in the Red Keep, looks splendidly decorated. Emblems of the Faith, House Targaryen and House Blackwood hang from the high ceilings. An altar to the Mother, decorated with numerous natural flowers, stands out in the center of the place. There is also a small stage on the other side of the room with several chairs in front of it. Aemond frowns, but follows Rhaena to the high table, where the High Septon and old lady Blackwood are standing, but before they get there, Rhaena's hand on his forearm stops their progress.

"What is it?" He asks quietly turning to her.

“Be kind,” she responds in a whisper.

Their eyes meet once again. She looks apprehensive, as if she's afraid of what he might say or do in front of the hosts. He finds her concern annoying and even insulting, but when Rhaena presses her gentle touch on his forearm and takes a step toward him, her scent enveloping him once more, the impulse to respond with a sarcastic comment suddenly fades away.

“Please,” she insists in a tone so low that he practically has to read her lips.

His gaze stays on her lips for a few seconds, finding them small and soft-looking. Were they perhaps…? Aemond stops his train of thought and tilts his head, removing his arm from Rhaena's grasp.

“If you insist,” he finally answers after clearing his throat.

She seems content with his response and starts walking again.

“Lady Blackwood!” She greets with a bright smile, “High Septon,” Rhaena nods to both of them.

“Lady Rhaena, Prince Aemond”

The old woman's hard gaze lingers on him for a moment before she bows.

“My lady,” he responds with a solemn voice and nodding his head respectfully.

“I appreciate the presence of both of you on this special occasion,” says the woman, “It is my hope that you enjoy this small ceremony.”

Aemond purses his lips and suppresses a snort of annoyance. He detests false modesty. The woman had clearly gone to great lengths with the preparations of every detail.

“Everything looks magnificent,” Rhaena smiles, “I am sure you'll be a wonderful hostess today, if your tea parties are any indication.”

They both laugh and the High Septon laughs with them. Beside him, Rhaena subtly bumps her foot against Aemond's.

“It is an honor for us to be here, Lady Blackwood,” he says finally.

The old woman smiles, half pleased and half arrogant. Aemond restrains his desire to roll his good eye at her.

“Please, my prince, Lady Rhaena, join us at the table of honor.”

Aemond walks after his cousin and sits at the table, relieved to not be next to the old woman or the High Septon. He couldn't feign goodwill all morning towards the former and he'd had enough of the latter all week.

Beside him, Rhaena chats with Lady Blackwood, but he does not listen to the conversation, his eye examining the place in detail.

“My prince,” Tyland Lannister greets him and takes the seat next to him, “What a pleasant surprise to have you here.”

“Lord Lannister,” Aemond nods.

Tyland smirks. Aemond turns to him, “I did not know you enjoyed these kinds of events.”

“Certainly not as much as my brother did,” he admits, “But we all have our responsibilities, as you well know.”

"Indeed"

They both talk for a few minutes about the last meeting of the privy council until the High Septon, who is now standing next to the Mother's altar, breaks the conversation, beginning the last ritual of the Festival.

Silence hangs over the room, the music that was playing softly in the background stops and everyone seems attentive to the religious man's words. Aemond glances over the guests, recognizing most of them as members of the kingdom's most prominent houses. A group of dark-haired women sitting at the end of the table to his right catch his attention. Surely, they couldn't be...

The applause of the guests brings him out of his observation and Aemond notices Rhaena standing next to him, and looking at him briefly. He imitates her action and follows her until they reach the Mother's altar.

“And now,” the High Septon seems more excited than the prince has ever seen him in his life, “It is time to adorn the kind Mother in her best finery and take her to the Sept, from where she will continue to watch over us and bless us with her mercy, until it is turn to worship her again."

They stand on either side of the statue and Aemond watches a page-boy hold a crystal box from which Rhaena takes out a golden cloak, clearly exquisitely crafted.

The music is heard again, the court singing the main hymn of the Mother. Aemond sings inertly along with them, his voice barely above a whisper, his eye focused on Rhaena and her task. Noticing her small hands as they place the cloak on the stone back of the statue, delicately securing it with the gold clasp and skillfully arranging the folds. When it seems to be finished, her fingers caress the edge of the cloak from top to bottom, as if feeling the softness of the fabric and the embroidery. Aemond is unable to look away, enthralled with the almost mechanical gesture of Rhaena's hand, with her pleased expression and the soft smile on her face.

“It is your turn, my prince.”

The High Septon gives him an encouraging smile and Aemond begins to say the prayer to the Mother. The words are so engraved in his mind that he recites them without problems, his gaze still fixed on his betrothed, who looks away from the Mother and looks at him too, with a neutral expression that is difficult for him to read.

When Aemond finishes, the page-boy hands him a parchment with special requests which Aemond reads in his most solemn voice.

“What an honor for all of us that the Crown has participated in this ritual!” the High Septon finally says, “May the Mother be generous to Lady Rhaena and the prince and grant them prosperity in their union. Now, all united with Faith in the seven, we raise our prayers to the kind Mother, knowing that she listens to us and grants what we need.”

The High Septon invites all those present to approach the statue and bow before the end of the ceremony. As the attendants advance in an orderly line, the old man urges Rhaena and Aemond to touch the Mother's mantle and offer their petitions.

“Remember that she will listen to you with special attention for having dressed her,” he tells them with a fatherly smile.

Aemond does not respond, just looks at the statue and frowns, not believing the man's words. Perhaps there had been a time when he had believed in the gods, but the war had changed his perspective on many issues, including the Faith. He was not going to ask for anything because he knew he would not get an answer.

In front of him, Rhaena touches the hem of the cloak again, her gaze fixed on the statue, her expression half curious and half ironic. When her gaze drifts back to Aemond, she raises her eyebrow in his direction and gives him a small smile. Aemond can't help but remember her words from the previous afternoon.

Maybe I’ll ask to be a young widow.

Was she also thinking about that? Would she have dared to make such a request? The prince feels the sudden urge to ask her, but he only holds back a smile and looks away.

When the line of ladies and lords finally ends, servants of the faith dressed in brown robes appear to carry the Mother's altar on litters to the sept. The statue is bid farewell to the Fortress amid applause and songs.

And Aemond feels a weight lift from his shoulders. The damned Festival was finally over. He had fulfilled his duty and could consider his participation a resounding success. Surely his mother would be pleased with his performance all week.

Rhaena's sigh brings him back to the reality of the party. The music changes to a much livelier one, and Lady Blackwood takes the floor, thanking and inviting everyone to enjoy and dance.

“Rhaena!”

The Westerling girl approaches them and links her arm with his betrothed.

“Marianne, finally,” Rhaena's voice sounds relieved.

“You have no idea who is here,” the lady's voice cuts off as she notices Aemond's gaze, her face turning red.

Rhaena looks at her curiously before turning to him, “Cousin. I would tell you that it is our duty to dance since we are the guests of honor, but since you have made your position clear about dancing, I will not insist on it.”

“Am I supposed to thank you for that?”

She laughs and rolls her eyes, “If you'll excuse me, I'll go greet the other guests.”

Without waiting for him to give his approval, Rhaena takes the arm of her friend and they get lost among the guests who have already taken the dance floor.

With a growl of dissatisfaction Aemond returns to the table, where Tyland Lannister joins him a few moments later. The conversation flows between them and the prince enjoys a glass of wine while his good eye scans the crowd from time to time looking for his cousin. It is not difficult for him to find her, and every time he does, she is surrounded by ladies and lords with whom she converses animatedly.

“I am sorry if I am keeping you here, my prince,” says Lord Tyland, “Perhaps you would prefer to be with your betrothed.”

Aemond turns his gaze to the man, feeling irritated by the comment, “I am right where I want to be, Lord Tyland.”

Lannister nods thoughtfully, “Have you already come to terms with the idea that Lady Rhaena will be your wife?”

“Mmm,” he makes a noise. He knows that the man is in no way trying to mortify him. He has known Lord Lannister since he was a child and is one of his greatest allies. He was loyal to Aegon's cause during the war and much of the kingdom's treasure was saved thanks to him. Still, he finds himself tempted to tell him to remember his place because of his bold question.

“I am sorry if I overstepped with my words,” the man seems to have guessed the course of his thoughts, “I simply thought it appropriate to emphasize that Lady Rhaena can be an important ally of the Crown.”

“Yes, I've heard that,” he responds almost with a growl.

Lannister does not give up. “Look at her, my prince,” the man points with his glass to the center of the dance floor, where Rhaena is dancing with a knight of House Whent, “Everyone likes her, they seem to want to please her and seek her approval.”

Aemond doesn't respond, just watches his cousin take the knight's hand and walk around him, smile wide and face clearly rosy.

“Did you know that Lady Blackwood is a Tully by birth?”

"Was she?"

“Now you are here, at her party, and this could be the beginning of a path of more… friendly relations between the Crown and the Riverlands”

“My brother Daeron has already managed to reaffirm our authority with the Tullys”

“Perhaps, and I hope his intervention has a lasting effect, but it doesn't hurt to cultivate this new connection with such an influential lady.”

Aemond's irritation grows. Rhaena had told him practically the same thing, as had his mother. He was a prince, he didn't need anyone's approval, everyone should rather seek his. Of course, he holds regards for the most noble and important houses, but their representatives, with few exceptions, were so boring or idiotic that he gave up maintaining any relationship with them.

And not to mention the ladies. Most of them seemed to shy away from his presence as they found him too intimidating. Or that's what he preferred to think. Sometimes it was better to convince himself of such reasoning rather than to face their curious or pitiful looks when they noticed the patch and the scar.

Vhagar. He has Vhagar. And he doesn't need anyone else.

“Lady Rhaena can be very useful. Your great-grandmother, Queen Alysanne, understood well the importance of sweetening the ears of certain relevant people in the kingdom. She and the old king found the charisma they possessed very advantageous because they knew that they could not conquer everything with fire and blood."

“Thank you, Lord Tyland, I know the history of my house well,” he replies coldly.

Lannister sips from his wine glass and nods, “Take advantage of what Lady Rhaena can give you, my prince. More than just heirs, benefit from her popularity and use it to help the Crown further cement its power. It is the smartest thing you can do, after all, why are marriages if not beneficial?”

Aemond ponders his words as he drinks from his cup. He must admit that Lannister's last point is valid. Their future union, like all of the noble houses of the kingdom, is one of convenience. He might as well use Rhaena to his liking. Use the… what had she called it? Social influence? Entirely for his convenience.

As his gaze searches for Rhaena again, his eye falls upon the dark-haired women. This time, however, he manages to see their faces without problem. A lump forms in his throat as he recognizes them, “What are they doing here?”

Lannister follows the direction of his gaze, “They are invited to your wedding, my prince.”

Aemond snorts indignantly, “Did you think it was appropriate to invite my former betrothed and her sisters to my wedding?”

Tyland has the grace to look uncomfortable and shift in his chair, “They are the queen's sisters, their father is the lord of the Stormlands, it would have been rude not to.”

Aemond empties his wine glass, his gaze turning away from the women. Their presence in the Fortress is already beginning to make him uncomfortable. Seeing Floris Baratheon was surely going to bring up the issue of the broken betrothal again, the disgrace he had caused by breaking his word and starting a relationship with the witch of Harrenhall. His hands clench into fists. The rumors would certainly start again. If they had ever stopped.

“Perhaps it would be prudent to converse with the Lady Floris and offer your apology, my prince.”

Prudent. Yes of course. Aemond makes a disdainful little noise, but deep down he knows that Lannister is right. And he knows his mother will probably ask him to do the same.

“Maybe later,” he replies simply.

Lannister does not insist because the music stops and Lady Blackwood speaks again, inviting everyone present to offer their donations to the Faith.

Several of the guests, most of them men who are heads of their houses, instruct their servants to leave valuable-looking chests on a long table placed on the other side of the room.

“Lady Blackwood chose the right moment to stop the music,” says Rhaena, who has returned to the table and sits next to him, grimacing, “These shoes are not comfortable at all.”

“Was there a need to dance with half the attendees?” he asks coldly

His voice amazes her, but Rhaena shakes her head, “I like to dance,” she responds simply before picking up a glass of wine and taking a few sips.

Aemond watches her out of the corner of his eye. Her heated cheeks, her heavy breathing and the droplets of sweat beading her forehead. The prince suddenly wonders if his skin feels warmer than usual to the touch.

“You are a great dancer, Lady Rhaena,” Tyland says.

“Thank you, Lord Lannister,” she smiles kindly at him.

“Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go offer my contribution to the Faith.”

The Master of Coin leaves them and Aemond shifts in his chair, moving a little closer to Rhaena, “You did not mention this part when you told me about the party.”

“I guess I forgot,” she shrugs, but giggles and then shakes her head, as if to clear her mind.

Aemond can't help but ask, “What is it?”

Rhaena bites her lip for a moment, “I just remembered something Marianne's aunt told her and she repeated to me,” Aemond looks at her expectantly, “Basically that this is just a show for the court to clear their conscience by offering money to the Faith in exchange for forgiveness”

“If so, the court has many sins to atone for,” he responds, looking at the long line of gifts.

“Oh you have no idea,” she repeats with another giggle.

Aemond raises an eyebrow in her direction, and Rhaena bites her lip again, as if debating whether to continue or not. At last her resolve gives way, and she moves closer to her cousin, speaking softly, “Lady Rosby, for example.”

“What about her?”

“Her dress is much looser than the ones she usually wears, they say she hides a growing belly under it, and that is why she and Lord Manderly's son had to rush the wedding.”

"That would be…"

“And Lord Fossoway,” she doesn't let him finish, “The entire Court whispers about his shameful behavior and his fondness for the establishments on the Street of Silk. And there is also Lord Grafton's youngest son, who has been squandering his fortune on gambling and dog fighting.”

“How do you know all this?”

“People tell me these things,” she responds matter-of-factly with a shrug.

Aemond remembers Lord Tyland's words from a few minutes ago. Maybe it is a good idea to use his cousin and all the knowledge she is clearly accumulating.

“We should contribute too,” he says after a few seconds, pointing to the table full of presents.

“Yes, probably so,” she admits.

“Take care to find something appropriate to offer to the Faith. I will let you search the royal treasury for something worthy of our family.”

His words have the desired effect on Rhaena, who at first seems amazed, but then clearly pleased with the task he gives her. Aemond congratulates himself internally. Putting his cousin's skills to work, subtly directing them toward appropriate and convenient causes, would surely be simple.

“Will you really let me take care of such matter?”

“If it's a lot of work and you're not willing…”

“No, no, I'll be happy to do it,” she is quick to respond, “Thank you, cousin.”

Her smile widens and her violet eyes shine with contained emotion. Aemond feels his heart skip a beat when she gently squeezes his hand for just a few seconds.

Lady Blackwood interrupts the moment by announcing that the performance of some famous puppeteers is about to begin. The guests then disperse, some heading towards the stage Aemond had noticed upon entering the hall, and others remaining in small groups as they chat.

“We should go, the show will start soon,” Rhaena tells him.

“Not exactly my kind of fun.”

“You cannot sit here for the entire party, cousin, it doesn't reflect well on the guests of honor,” she responds, standing up, “Come, they come from the free cities, I assure you they are better than the ones they have here.”

Aemond ends up accepting. Besides, Tyland Lannister still hasn't returned and he doesn't feel like talking to anyone else.

***

A renewed round of laughter and applause echoes through the room.

Rhaena also joins in the cheers for the comedians. Beside her, Aemond remains almost stoic. She gets the impression that he hasn't enjoyed the show too much.

And why would you care if such is the case? She wonders as the men come out from backstage and greet the attendees.

It is been a splendid afternoon. She has danced and laughed as much as she hoped to since she found out about the party. She has met new lords of Westeros, new ladies who would perhaps become future friends, and has shared slightly snide comments with Marianne about potential suitors and various ladies' dress choices.

“We should go listen to the bard that Lady Blackwood hired,” proposes her friend, who walks beside her.

“Will you come with us, cousin?” she turns to Aemond. He grimaces in her direction and Rhaena smiles, “Yeah, I figured as much.”

Aemond simply nods in their direction and she watches him return to the table, where he joins the conversation with Tyland Lannister and Lord Hayford.

Rhaena links her arm with Marianne and they go in the direction of where a group, mostly women, has gathered to listen to the bard.

“Lady Rhaena”

The voice of a tall young woman with very black hair and deep blue eyes stops her. Rhaena offers her a kind smile as they walk towards her.

“Lady Baratheon,” she greets.

“It is an honor to finally meet you, cousin,” the young woman offers a sideways smile, “I hope I can call you that, considering we share ancestors.”

“Of course,” Rhaena nods and continues, “This is Marianne Westerling, my friend and lady-in-waiting.”

“My pleasure, Lady Westerling. I am Floris Baratheon.”

“Lady Floris,” Marianne greets, “I thought I saw your sisters here as well.”

“Indeed,” Floris steps away for a few moments and returns with two other young women with similar features, “These are Cassandra and Maris, my older sisters.”

After the usual pleasantries, Rhaena doesn't know what to say. She is usually very good in social situations, but something in the look of the Baratheon girls does not offer her much confidence, “Cousins, I would like…”

“I am sorry, Lady Rhaena, we should have started our conversation by congratulating you,” it is Floris who speaks again.

“Congratulating me?”

“For your wedding to Prince Aemond,” Maris responds.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Rhaena nods, “Thank you.”

“I assume you are aware that he was betrothed to me at the beginning of the war,” Floris rests her blue eyes on Rhaena’s.

“I heard it, yes.”

“He made quite an impression when he arrived at Storm's End offering our father a betrothal.”

“I imagine so,” she responds, trying to sound curt. She doesn't know where this conversation is going.

“Of course, being four of us, he had a difficult choice before him,” Floris takes a step towards Rhaena, openly examining her figure from head to toe, “He kissed the four of us and choose me.”

"What?" Her question sounds like a gasp.

“Prince Aemond kissed the four of us on the lips,” Floris repeats, her eyes shining with malice, “My kiss clearly stood out above my sisters' because I was the chosen one.”

Rhaena does not know what to say. What is she supposed to answer? She is under the impression that the Baratheon girls are only seeking to torment her with their words. But she could not care less. What difference does it make if Aemond has kissed them all?

Despite saying that to herself, a bitter feeling runs through her body and her gaze wanders to the main table for a moment.

“You clearly didn't stand out too much if the prince ended up breaking the betrothal.”

It is Marianne who responds, squeezing Rhaena’s hand affectionately.

“That is not what happened!” Floris hisses.

“Cousins,” Rhaena cuts in, clearing her throat, “I am glad you could come in time for my wedding. “It will be a pleasure for the prince and for me to have you all here with us.” Her eyes land on Floris's.

“We came to see our sister,” Maris replies.

“But perhaps I will take the opportunity to reminisce about old times with the prince,” Floris smiles wryly, “After what I heard about him, I will surely be able to visit him tonight in his chambers and…”

“Enough, Floris,” Cassandra interrupts, “I am sorry, Lady Rhaena, excuse my sisters' impertinence.”

“Don't worry, Lady Cassandra, now, if you'll excuse me.”

Rhaena walks with Marianne until they make their way through the crowd and listens to the bard, although she cannot concentrate on the man's songs.

"Are you okay?" Her friend asks quietly, looking at her with concern.

“Yes, of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Her voice sounds squeaky, so she clears her throat.

“Those Baratheon girls were very rude,” Marianne snorts.

“They are just…”

Rhaena doesn't finish. She doesn't know what to say. What did Floris feel? Jealousy? Rage? Disappointment?

“I know, they shouldn't have talked to you like that anyway, they clearly don't know their place,” anger is clear in her friend's voice.

“It is okay, it does not matter,” she assures her, “Let's forget their words, they just said stupid things.”

But said is easier than done, and even though she tries to enjoy the bard's art, her mind keeps repeating the words of Floris Baratheon. Was it true that Aemond had kissed them? Contrary to her will, the image of the Baratheon sisters standing next to the prince, waiting to be kissed, appears in her mind. A shiver runs through her body and, angrily, Rhaena directs her gaze to the sisters, who are whispering across the room.

“Let’s just go, we should eat something,” Marianne tells her a while later.

Rhaena nods and they say goodbye near the high table. Sighing, she walks over to her seat and helps herself to pies and fruit dipped in honey, grateful that Aemond pays no attention to her and continues conversing with the other council members.

More harshly than she should, Rhaena spears a piece of fig and puts it in her mouth. Although it tastes good, she does not particularly enjoy the flavor, but instead eats mechanically until her appetite it’s settled.

"What is the matter?"

Aemond's voice takes her by surprise. Rhaena turns to him, who looks at her with a frown.

“Do not know what you mean”

“Did the bard perform so poorly that you are suddenly in a bad mood?”

Rhaena bites her tongue to avoid responding with a curse. And to avoid asking what she really wants to know. Was it true that he had kissed them all? Thinking about his kiss, her eyes drift helplessly to Aemond's lips. Long, thin lips, what would his lips taste like? The thought surprises her and she looks away from his face, drinking from her glass of wine and trying to push those thoughts from her mind.

Fucking Floris Baratheon, she thinks to herself.

Fortunately, the music resumes and Rhaena excuses herself to go dancing. It doesn't take long for her to find a dance partner, so she tries to focus only on the beat of the music, although she feels her cousin's gaze on her at times, watching her as is his habit.

The songs follow each other in a cheerful rhythm and she continues dancing and jumping, although her movements are rather mechanical, her good spirits from a while ago spoiled. Rhaena excuses herself and heads to the side of the dance floor, suddenly feeling dizzy and fanning herself with her hand, internally cursing her tight corset.

On the other side Marianne catches her attention and questions her with her gaze, so Rhaena makes an appeasing gesture with her hand, not wanting her friend to stop dancing with Ser Simon Dondarrion, the handsome knight who seems very fond of Marianne.

“May I, Lady Rhaena?”

The presence of Lord Tarly, who extends his hand toward her, is unexpected. Rhaena, still not having fully caught her breath, considers rejecting the man, but in the end gives up.

“With pleasure, my lord.”

The man smiles good-naturedly and guides her back to the dance floor, “What do you think of King's Landing so far, Lady Rhaena?”

“The city has a particular charm”

Lord Tarly widens his smile, “Yes, I agree, although the lands of the Reach are, in my opinion, the most beautiful in all of Westeros.”

Lord Tarly, who is not exactly an old man, but who does have a fairly prominent belly, moves slowly, so Rhaena keeps up with him and tries to calm herself while breathing slowly.

“I do not doubt it, my lord, although I could not say that I’ve been in that part of the realm.”

“You should visit us, my lady, it would be an honor to welcome you to Horn Hill.”

“Perhaps once my dragon is bigger, I will ride on her back and take upon your word, Lord Tarly.”

“You would do well, the Reach is your ally,” he replies, “You have many friends in our lands.” The man fixes his brown eyes on her and Rhaena has the impression that his words hide a greater meaning. “We loyal men do not forget that the iron throne belonged to Queen Rhaenyra and her offspring.”

A lump forms in Rhaena's throat, who just studies the man intently.

“Fear not, Lady Rhaena, as I told you, we are loyal to…”

“The crown belongs to my cousin,” she cuts him off, trying to measure her words, “Aegon is king and I am to marry Prince Aemond in a few days.”

“A true disgrace, if I may,” he replies, “Your father, Prince Daemon, would never have permitted such an affront to his daughter.”

“My father is dead, my lord. The war is over"

The man stares at her again before speaking, “As I told you, Lady Rhaena, the throne belongs to the offspring of Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

The girl wants to reply, she wants to tell him that such offspring does not exist, that her brothers are all dead... but she prefers to remain silent.

“Fear not,” Lord Tarly repeats, “Lady Jeyne is a good friend and ally. We are watching over you, don't forget it.”

Rhaena is grateful for the song to end and she gives a quick bow before turning her back on the man.

Her head begins to pound as hard as her heart as she makes her way through the guests. Her hands, suddenly drenched in cold sweat, are almost shaking. What had the man implied? What did he intend to achieve with his words? Was this perhaps a game played by the dowager queen to test her loyalty? Rhaena looks around her, but no one seems to pay her much attention. Not even Aemond, who continues conversing with Lord Lannister.

Her words sounded too much like Lady Jeyne's, a small voice inside her whispers.

She had not wanted to think more about her conversation with the Lady of the Vale before she left the Eyrie, Rhaena did not want to know more about wars or confrontations. She just wanted peace. She did not want…

“Cousin, wait, please.”

Cassandra Baratheon grabs her arm, stopping her.

“Lady Cassandra, please, I do not wish to continue our conversation from earlier,” her voice sounds harsher than she intended, but she does not care.

“Please allow me to apologize on behalf of my sisters,” insists the young woman, “The way they expressed themselves was embarrassing.”

“Even so, you let them expand as they pleased for a long time before shutting them up.”

“Excuse me, Lady Rhaena, I know I was wrong,” she admits.

Rhaena taps her foot on the floor, eager to get out of the conversation, “Very well, you need not say more, Lady Cassandra, I will forget your sisters' impertinence.”

“I would like to assure you that we have no intention of tormenting you, we came here not only for your wedding,” Cassandra seems not to notice Rhaena's unwillingness to continue talking, “But also to see our sister Ellyn. We have been very concerned about her health”

Her words manage to calm her down a little. She had not considered the young queen into the picture, “Of course, it is understandable. I hope that Queen Ellyn continues to improve, surely your presence here will speed up her recovery."

“This is what we hope for, Lady Rhaena.”

There is a moment of silence between the two. Rhaena nods and prepares to leave, when she speaks again.

“And furthermore, I assure you that I will keep a close eye on Floris. She won't dare visit the prince at all. My sister likes to talk, but she wouldn't dare disgrace our father's name in such a way."

Perfect, Rhaena thinks, just what she needed. Cassandra Baratheon reminding her of such an unpleasant comment.

“Or disgrace you, at the same time. It is punishment enough, I believe, having to marry the prince."

"I beg your pardon?" Rhaena can't believe her ears

“Don't get me wrong, cousin, I don't mean to offend you. I only verbalize what the majority in the kingdom think. Prince Aemond is hardly a good choice for a husband, a vow-breaker as well as a kinslayer.”

Rhaena knows that well, but at hearing the words from Cassandra Baratheon's mouth, it is not sympathy that is born inside her, rather suspicion and anger.

“You shouldn't say such things about the prince,” she replies.

She seems oblivious to her comment, “Plus there is the matter of his appearance. I know it wasn't her fault because he was just a child,” Cassandra smiles at her and Rhaena is able to notice the malice in her expression, “But that grotesque scar deforms his face. And that eyepatch is in such bad taste,” the girl shudders, “A shame that a beauty like you is wasted on Aemond Targaryen.”

For the second time that afternoon, Rhaena doesn't know what to say. She is not entirely convinced that she heard correctly the words that came out of her cousin's mouth.

“I see that you are as malicious as your sisters,” she finally says, her voice hard because of the displeasure she feels inside her, “Be careful, Lady Cassandra, control your tongue or you will end up facing the consequences.”

The Baratheon girl's expression falters for a few moments and Rhaena feels a hint of discomfort, but she simply glares at her before striding in the opposite direction.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

@ammo23 @qyburnsghost @niocel @ithoughtulikedme @avidreader73 @jenmakeusin10 @morninglia @missing-loki @soyotelol (let me know if you want to be tagged)

Read on AO3

[blainesebastian]

shaken (ccg universe)

words: 4,104 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (anon request) “hurt/comfort request, something similar to “I got you” , maybe the next run in with asshole Pete after the fight he caused and he runs into ccg?” notes: this has a character named Pete from ‘misunderstandings & miscommunications’, it’s suggested you read that first :) masterlist is here for cgg! original masterlist on sidebar.  warnings: uncomfortable situations, unwanted sexual advances for reader  tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylespresleyhearted, @behindmygreyeyes

There are not many nights that you and Austin can just spend time with one another with no obligations, no pressure—at least for right now. Austin is starting to shoot a film next week and so he's invited, naturally, to a fellow cast mate's house for a party. His name is Rickson and you've met him a handful of times before, he's handsome, a great actor, and makes you feel like you belong in the world that you're just starting to dip your toes into. Not to mention he has a great girlfriend, named Peg, and both are just incredibly down to earth people. More need to be like this in the profession, in your opinion. They're similar to Austin, which is probably why they're friends too, genuine and kind, hard working. So you're looking forward to hanging out at their place, enjoying a party, enjoying your boyfriend.

You're in a flower printed skirt tonight that rides up your thighs a bit, a perfect reveal of skin and a cream lace halter top. The weather is warm out so you're definitely eyeing the patio that has a beautiful pool as Austin comes back from the kitchen and hands you a drink, lingering in the living room with groups of other people. Everyone is kinda doing their own thing, listening to music, playing pool, talking and catching up. You hum as Austin wraps his arms around your waist from behind, placing his chin on your shoulder.

"Kinda wish I would have brought my swimsuit." You say, turning your head a bit. You press a kiss to his cheek just because you can.

"I'm sure you can get by without one," He grins as you gently elbow him, "I certainly wouldn't object."

“Well I do,” You laugh, “But admirable attempt.”

It’s been a decent few hours that you’ve been here, just having drinks and swapping stories with people you haven’t seen in a while, occasionally dancing when you can get Austin to do it. Regardless of how decently packed the place is, you mostly entertain yourselves with eachother—you feel like you’re reading celebrity gossip or something, that’s the comment you see the most.

Austin Butler and girlfriend, Y/N L/N stuck to one another like glue all night—definitely not something terrible (or inaccurate) to read.

At a certain point you’re both a couple beers in (two shots of tequila) and you’re leaning against Austin’s side as he talks with Rickson about the upcoming film. It’s nothing too heavy, mostly just what they’re looking forward to and you find yourself smiling on and off because…you love watching Austin talk, especially about something he’s passionate about. He moves his hands a lot, eyes bright, more likely to laugh. It’s so easy to fall in love with him.

Eventually, you pull away to use the restroom, having a few conversations along the way with people who remind you that you’re beginning to find a place in this industry. It’s almost surreal at some points but you love getting used to it.

After washing your hands, you take a long look at yourself in the mirror above the sink, your cheeks flushed pink and your eyes slightly hazy. You smile, smoothing your fingers through your hair and adjusting your skirt so that the zipper isn’t askew.

When you open the bathroom door, you almost hit someone with it because they’re standing too close, “Oh damn, sorry.”

And it takes a long moment of this guy staring at you before he grins…and you realize who he is. It’s Pete. “Hey Y/N,” He runs a hand through his hair, swaying just slightly on his feet, having a good time too. “Long time no talk—though I guess that was the point, right?”

You remember that night, being out with Austin. You had been so furious that Pete told you your boyfriend didn’t want him speaking to you. Of course within that moment, you weren’t sure why—you were just confused at the lack of communication and essentially telling someone how to be around you. It wasn’t until much later that Austin told you the truth—that Pete was bad news, that he hit on someone else’s girlfriend and made her super uncomfortable.

Austin alluded that Pete did more than just said things he shouldn’t have.  

And now you’re here, by yourself in this upstairs corridor where the bathroom is, with a slightly intoxicated Pete.

“Why you lookin’ so nervous?”

You blink, tumbling back down into your thoughts. You try a smile but it feels weird on your face, “I’m not,” You laugh lightly, “Just uh, tired. Thinking about finding Austin and heading out.”

You think that’ll end the conversation, beginning to walk past him, but he puts his arm up and kind of blocks your way. He uses his body to keep you cornered, surprisingly light and easy on his feet despite drinking. You feel like you’re moving in slow motion, always getting cut off by him when you try to pivot.

It’s then a chill works into your belly, drips like melting icicles.

“Austin, right,” He chuckles, “How’s he doin’? You know, I never thought it was fair for him to tell us to stop talkin’.”

He’s acting like they used to have conversations all the time…you’d just share hellos? Update one another on stories when bumping into one another at parties. That was it.

“I mean, you’re your own woman, right?” Pete reaches out and brushes his thumb over your cheek, “You do what you want to.”

“Don’t touch me,” You attempt to swat his hand away but that only makes him smirk.

“Aw c’mon, I remember the few parties we saw one another at…you were much more fun than this.”

It only takes a moment for you to realize that you’re in trouble, too late for you to move and knock him out of the way with momentum. Pete pushes you against the wall and you can tell he’s trying to shift you into the bathroom and a deep, terrified part of you knows that if he gets you in there…

“Stop! Let me go, Pete, stop—” You wriggle in his embrace, pushing, beginning to kick a little and you realize the more you move, the more he seems to be enjoying it. He presses himself against you, plants a kiss to your neck, pulls at your skirt. “No, stop.”

His fingers dig into your skin and you cry out in pain, fear, panic and he’s leaning so heavily into your body that you feel like you could topple over. Your hands move and try for any distraction, one moment of movement—your thumb pokes at his right eye and you stomp on whatever foot is closest to you and—

And he lets go.

Scrambling, you fall to the carpet and get up as quickly as you can, Pete laughing, more amused than anything else. You don’t bother to look back over your shoulder, rushing back downstairs to where the party is.

--

Shaking it off as much as you can, you push your way towards the sound and liveliness of others having a good time in search of Austin. He's not where you left him in the living room, which isn't surprising. He tends to float, walks with people as he talks with them.

The crowd gives you little comfort, admittedly you look over your shoulder every so often for Pete but…he’s not there. It feels like there’s almost a processing error inside your brain; did that really just happen?

There's panic clawing up your throat like bile from your stomach and you place a hand on your torso and take a deep breath through your nose so you don't get sick. You haven't even had that much to drink tonight but it's sitting sourly in the back of your mouth. You just want to go home. It's a kneejerk reaction to feel stupid over what's just happened even though you know it's not your fault, and you hate how a word like 'weak' starts spinning itself in your mind. Running a trembling hand through your hair, you wander up to the girlfriend of the host,

"Hey Peg, have you seen Austin?"

She turns and nods, "Yeah, he's out by the pool," And her smile kind of knocks down a notch when she gets a good look at you, "Hey are you okay?"

"Fine," You force a smile and make a b-line for the back door, sliding it open and stepping out.

Your eyes take a lap around the pool deck before you finally spot him having a conversation with a small group of people and you're incredibly thankful to the universe that it ends by the time you reach him. Your hand settles on his lower back and he turns, smiling as he sees you and wraps an arm around your shoulders. Utter relief slams into your body like a car crash and it's almost overwhelming how safe he automatically makes you feel. You lean into his side, your other hand touching his chest for a moment and you take in a soft breath to center yourself.

"There you are," Austin squeezes your shoulder, "Thought I might have to send out search and rescue."

He puts down his beer on a small table to give you his full attention, hands resting on your shoulders and moving down your arms every so often. You clear your throat, making sure your voice is steady before you begin speaking, "I think I'm ready to go, can we leave a bit early?"

Austin's eyebrows draw together and you can tell he's pushing through the soft fog of rose-colored tipsiness that both of you have had since the beginning of the night. You unfortunately have sobered up very quickly. He moves his hand to cup your cheek, "What's wrong?"

You shake your head, keening a bit out of his touch, "Nothing—I'm just...tired," You lie, "Can we just—"

"Yeah," Austin says quickly, the tone of his voice shifting almost immediately. The more he takes a look at you, the more he knows that something isn't right. "Yeah, we can go."

You nod softly, playing with the button of his shirt before beginning to pull away. You can hear the back door slide open again, noises from the party carrying on inside spilling out. When you look back up at Austin's face, his gaze has shifted to the patio door and…the blue of his eyes suddenly goes very cold. You swallow, glancing over your shoulder to see Pete grinning at table of two women wearing bikinis and ice coils around your spine. You put your hand back on your boyfriend's chest,

"Austin," There's a gentle warning tone to your voice, telling him not to get involved. He looks back down at you, his mouth opening slightly because...if he hadn't put two and two together, he certainly has now.

“What did he do?” And it’s almost funny how much his question sounds like a statement because he knows, he knows something happened without you even having to tell him. But you can’t get the words out, they’re stuck underneath your tongue.

His jaw clenches at the silence and suddenly he's moving before you can stop him, "Austin."

You can't stop the situation from spilling out in front of you, even as you follow him to...you're not sure? The last thing you want to do is get in the middle of it, you're not sure if Austin will listen. And a part of you isn't sure you want him to, either. Austin grabs Pete's shirt and yanks him away from the table that he's flirting with. While Pete is a bit bulkier, Austin's got height over him by a full head and he definitely uses that to tower over the other man,

"I told you to stay away from my girlfriend." Pete scoffs out something nasty, glancing past Austin to you, "Don't look at her, I'm the one talkin' to you."

"She's the one who can't seem to stay away from me. Maybe you need a tighter leash on your cat."

You're not sure what Austin planned to do with this confrontation but you can tell whatever it was goes straight out the window with that comment. You know right before it happens that Austin's going to hit him, a sharp noise leaving your lips as his fist connects with Pete's cheekbone. The force of it knocks Pete right back of his heels and into the pool, water splashing up over the sides. There's murmuring of people around them, someone laughing, but the party doesn't stop. Regardless of how this feels because you're at the center of it, you know this isn't the first Hollywood party in which a fight has broken out and it won't be the last. Austin knows the host personally—he'll understand.

You reach for your boyfriend's arm, gently tugging him back, "C'mon."

Austin lingers by the pool side as Pete emerges from the water, holding onto his face. It takes a moment for you to get him to really listen and then you're both moving towards the patio exit. It's a short walk around the house to where the car is parked but that doesn't bother you, even in heels, you need to stretch your legs and Austin needs to let off steam. He's quiet, simmering, the hand he hit Pete with flexing his fingers. He lets out a short breath out of his nose, unlocking the car when you manage to reach it but you don't get inside yet, just lean against the passenger door to take oxygen deep into your lungs.

"Your fingers aren’t broken are they?" You ask after a moment, curling your hair around your ear. You're mostly kidding but...you know it was a hard hit.

Austin shakes his head, pocketing the keys and taking a look at his knuckles, "No," His voice is a bit gruff but you can tell he's really working on softening it, attempting to let go of his anger, "But Pete's nose might be."

"You did not have to do that," You say quickly and Austin's voice is firm as he talks over the tail end of your sentence,

"Yes I did."

He doesn't even know what happened and you're not sure you want to tell him, not at the risk of him walking back into the party to confront Pete again. You cross your arms over your chest, biting on the inside of your cheek for a few moments as the warm air settles around you. The sound of crickets hum mixed with muffled beats of music from the house and traffic a street over. You don't want to let this ruin your night but there's leftover adrenaline puttering through your veins and you can feel your body beginning to shake. You hate that you've taken self-defense classes, that you've been through similar things before and it all ends the same way—you feeling afraid and guilty and pathetic. Some valid feelings, some not.

You run your fingers underneath your right eye even though tears haven't fallen yet, beading on your eyelashes, "I hate that I feel like this," You admit, sniffling, "You know I—I know that it isn't my fault but—" You can't get the frustrated words to leave your lips, a choked noise slipping out instead.

Austin takes a step forward, gently cupping your cheek, "Shh," He whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, "There's no but's about it, Y/N. I'm this fucking close to goin' back in there, I got plenty more to say."

"Don't," You manage to get out, your arms moving to wrap around his waist. Your fingers gather up his shirt into your hands, grounding yourself, "Don't leave me."

Austin's body goes stiff but it's gone a moment later and his arms fold you into his chest, keeping you close underneath his chin, his hands moving up and down your back, "I'm here, m'not goin' anywhere."

The sentiment mixed with his touch is enough to break you wide open, leftover emotions and panic and fear slipping right out of you. Once a few tears fall, the sobbing starts, something unlatches in your chest keeping you together and you just fall apart against him. Your legs and knees feel weak but Austin keeps you upright, squeezing you tightly, pressing his lips against your temple and continuously working his hands across your shoulders and back, through your hair. He's quiet other than the occasional 'shh', attempting to comfort you in the best way he can, just by being there. But it's more than enough, it's exactly what you needed. He pulls back just a little and cups your cheeks, removing tear tracks off your skin,

"Try and breathe baby, take one in."

You struggle through it but manage, leaning back into Austin's chest. You hide your face in his neck for a few moments, breathing him in, attempting to right yourself so you can just...get in the car with him, go home. You hear a set of footsteps approach and god, you hope it's not Pete, but then you hear Peg's voice,

"Hey Austin, is she okay?"

You shift quickly, giving her a watery smile as Austin replies, "She's alright, I got her—thanks Peg."

"Oh hun," She must have made a trip to her garage because she's carrying a bottle of wine, "Can I get you water or anything?"

You shake your head, wiping your face again and you really appreciate the concern but you feel like you can barely hold yourself upright, let alone convey gratitude. You're glad that she doesn't ask if this has anything to do with Pete ending up in her pool, either, you're sure that's all over the party by now. Luckily Austin's there, his hand gently on your shoulder,

"Thank you, we're just gonna head home. Tell Rickson I'll see him next week."

She nods and gives you one last look before turning to walk back towards her house. You swallow, leaning up from off the car and Austin opens the door for you. Before you can get in, he gently clasps your arm so he has your attention. Tipping your chin with his fingers, he presses a long kiss to your cheek,

"I love you." Austin murmurs and somehow, despite how the night has turned, makes all the difference in how you're feeling.

--

Home is quiet in somehow the worst way. You’ve got a pounding headache, at the very least, and you can still feel the gentle pulsing of the music playing at Rickson’s house in your veins. You can sense that Austin wants to ask, talk, but it’s the last thing you want to do. You’re trying to do your best to erase it from your mind, from muscle memory, to pretend tonight was completely normal and fun right up until you used to the bathroom. But you know that won’t last forever. Austin is giving you a respectable amount of space but…it makes sense that he wants to know, for you to tell him.

“Can you give me a few minutes?” You ask as you toe off your shoes once you get inside the apartment.

Austin nods softly, his hand trailing along your arm before he pulls away and locks the front door.

You walk into your bathroom and you hate that you find yourself upset because...as you look at yourself in the mirror, there's no noticeable difference. You expected...actually, you have no idea what you expected. No one would know unless you told them—there's no physical injuries to speak to what you've gone through tonight. Nothing that lends to the fear or frustration of Pete cornering you and attempting to manhandle you into the bathroom to—

You grip the sink for a few moments, swallowing down a bout of nausea.

Quickly changing your clothes, you also take your makeup off and try to feel like yourself again. You're not sure what'll help that—a cup of tea? A hot shower? Crawling into bed? All of them seem like valid options and yet you're too exhausted to make any specific choices. Instead, you find Austin in the apartment as he gives you space, sitting down next to him on the couch. He's in a pair of joggers, white t-shirt, hair a bit unkempt from running his hands through it. He looks over at you but doesn't touch, waits for you to initiate contact. It's small, thoughtful things like that that really solidify why you love him so much. You inch closer and lean into his side and with that he wraps an arm around your shoulders, drawing and keeping you close, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"I know this is a stupid question, but are you okay?"

A ghost of a smile tugs at your lips because you understand where he's coming from. It's not a stupid question because he cares about you and wants to know but it feels...sort of superfluous at the same time. There are no words that really fit properly.

Running a hand over the side of your face, you turn a bit in his embrace to look at him as you speak, "I just have brush burns on my knees because I—I tripped on the carpet when I was rushing downstairs. That's like—" You trail off, unexpected emotion hitting you outright in your chest. You scoff out a light sound and Austin threads his fingers through your hair, "That's it, you know?" Your voice cracks with frustration and you hope that you don't have to explain because you're not sure how to find the energy to do that.

Austin understands though, of course he does. The brutality of what you went through tonight, the vulnerability, the violation, and all that's physically left behind is red and sore knees. It royally fucks with your head because it feels like it somehow devalues your experience, even though you know that's not true? You don't need to be bruised and bloody to ‘justify’ that something happened to you.

“Do you want to report him?” He asks after a moment and…for some reason that question surprises you. Given what happened at the pool, you figured he’d insist on it. Though, it’s not exactly off brand, either, for Austin to ask your opinion.

You lift his hand that’s resting on your knee, running your thumb over his knuckle. They’re a bit red, sore looking, “I don’t know,” You admit, “He didn’t…” You trail off, trying to think of the best way to put this.

Austin squeezes your fingers of the hand you’re holding. “He assaulted you, Y/N.”

You swallow, “Well, nowhere you can see.” And you know that’s a frustrating response, but doesn’t make it any less true, “You got this film coming up too and the last thing I want is for bad publicity to—”

“I don’t care about that,” Austin replies quickly, lacing your fingers together and bringing your hands to his lips. He presses a kiss to your thumb, “I care about you and whatever decision you want to make.”

You take in a short breath, warmth blooming in your chest at Austin’s sentiments. They mean a lot—they mean everything, “You know he’s probably reporting you for punching him in the face.” And your voice is light, slightly joking.

Austin scoffs out a laugh, rolling his eyes a little, “I’d love to see him try.”

Huffing out a small sound, you shake your head, because you definitely wouldn’t. Regardless, you suppose Austin is right, something needs to be done about Pete. Afterall, you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if you said nothing and he did something else to another girl at a party.

You’re not sure anything will one hundred percent come from it, reporting him? But you have to try.

You lift your hand to cup Austin’s cheek, running your thumb along the bone there, “Thanks for everything tonight, even before the Pete stuff.”

He shakes his head and tightens his arm around your shoulder, tugging you a bit closer until you’re seated on his lap. You know that there’s nothing to quite ‘thank’ him for but…you know you wouldn’t have been able to get through it without him. You stretch your legs out, getting comfortable against his chest.

You’re perfectly content to spend the rest of the night there and apparently, so is Austin. He cups your cheek after a moment and kisses you, keeping you as close as he can to his body.

[natsukishinomiyaswife]

Oh my goodness hello...👉🏻👈🏻

💬 for Yuliya and Idia🥺👉🏻👈🏻 or maybe Yuliya and Kalim... Either one is fine<33

Hello Mah! ☆

Thank you so much for your ask, and for participating in the ask game I reblogged! ♡

I'll go ahead and do both! Enjoy! ♡

(Also, Yuliya and Idia's ship name is SSR Idliya. I figured I would mention it to avoid confusion when I tag it lol ♡)

Yuliya and Idia:

Yuliya, Idia, and Azul all sit around a table, having gathered for the board game club. Idia and Azul were playing against each other while Yuliya watched, occasionally getting distracted by her phone. She sat up as she clutched it, holding it closer to her face as she made a noise in excitement. They looked up from their game, curious to know what her noise was about. It took a moment before she realized they were staring at her, caught up in whatever she was looking at. She lays her phone on the table, showing a news letter from one of the rhythm games she plays. "The card I've been waiting for is finally coming! I've spent months saving up for it. He looks so good, plus the costume you unlock with it is one of my favorites!" She taps on the screen, revealing the card in question. It's of her favorite character, one they're both familiar with (due to how often she would bring him up) She sighs as she picks her phone back up, holding it close to her chest. "I just need to make sure I win the 50/50, since I don't have enough to guarantee him." Idia has to hold back a laugh as he hears her words, muttering to himself, "Good luck with that." She turns her attention towards him as she gently slaps his shoulder, a small grin coming to his face as her cheeks puff up slightly. "Hey! I know my luck is terrible when it comes to these things...so..." She fiddles with her phone, looking down shyly as her words turn to mumbles. After a moment she looks up at him, meeting his eyes. "When his banner comes, I want you to pull for his card for me." (There will be a sequel to this in a seperate ask, since someone else also requested Yuliya and Idia!) ♡

Yuliya and Kalim:

The party was in full swing, yet the guest of honor was no where to be found, Kalim looking for her. He walked around asking if anyone had seen her, his dorm mates shaking their heads no before moving along. As he was walking he noticed the doors to the balcony were open, making his way over and seeing if anyone was out there. He perked up when he noticed Yuliya standing there, leaning against the rail as she looked out towards the desert. He smiled, laughing lightly as he approached her. "There you are!" She jumps, turning towards him with a hand to her chest. She relaxes once she realizes it's him, a small smile coming to her face. "Oh, Kalim! Sorry, I didn't realize anyone else was out here." "Ahaha, it's alright! What are you doing out here, anyway? You're missing the party!" She hesitates to respond as she turns her attention to the balcony doors, the sounds of people laughing and cheering over loud music coming through. She wrings her hands together as she tries to find her words. "Kalim, I...appreciate the party. Really, I do! But..." She takes a deep breath before continuing. "I would like it if you told me in advance, instead of keeping it a surprise...I need time to mentally prepare myself, especially when it comes to..." The sound of something breaking causes her to flinch, shouts and cheers following soon after. Kalim's expression turns sad as he realizes his mistake, too excited about her arrival to see how uncomfortable she was. "Ah, I'm sorry! This is all my fault! I was just so excited, and I wanted everyone to meet you! Maybe I should have listened to Jamil and skipped the welcome party..." She puts a hand on his shoulder, shaking her head. "It's alright. We haven't known each other long, and I know you meant well. Next time, just...give me a heads up. As soon as possible, preferably." He laughs before agreeing, an idea coming to his mind. "Oh, let me go get us some food! You need to try Jamil's cooking, it's the best!" She looks at him confused. "Don't you want to go back to the party?" "There is no party without you, so I'm moving the party out here! It'll be just us though, so no need to worry!" Her cheeks warm as a smile comes to her face, feeling touched by his thoughtfulness. "I'd like that"

Thank you! ♡

[nobodysdaydreams]

Well...

...that could have gone better.

(Also it turns out Lovelace IS an alien. 👽 so that's fun, I think?)

(or my reaction to episodes 44-46 of Wolf359)

Welcome back dear readers, sorry for the delay. Procrastinating on finals has been taking up all of my time, thank you for your understanding.

Tagging the mutuals who got me invested in this, and if you want to be tagged or untagged from these posts, lmk, or you can follow my blog or simply follow the tag "#bods wolf359 reactions". Anyone who has followed me for a while knows my updates are inconsistent, so I apologize in advance for that and for any spelling/grammar mistakes in my posts.

@sophieswundergarten @oflightningandstars @acollectionofcuriousreblogs @herawell @commsroom

Episode 44: Desperate Times

Now where were we? Ah yes. Cutter lied about their deaths and has an evil girlfriend who makes his robots. Hilbert and Lovelace told Minkowski about the death thing to get her on board, and once they have her, she should be able to get Doug and Hera on board.

Great point Doug. How many secret rooms can one space station have?

And how many copies of the SI-5? Because we already had two Duck boys. If another Kepler strolls in and starts talking about Whiskey again, that might just be too much for me.

No Minkowski. You don't want to kill anyone. But I understand.

Wow. Doug knows some fancy words. "Commander Eiffel" 😂

Oh, they're actually laughing. I'm sorry Doug. Wow, he just made that up too, very convincing.

Aw, Minkowski. I want to hug her. If she doesn't make it back to her husband...

oh yay, she and Doug are talking it out! Friends! My feelings exactly Hera! 💕💕💕

Hera is so sweet. It's weird to think she was built by and modeled after someone so horrible.

Ah. Taking a late night stroll around the ship Hilbert?

Hilbert. NO. NO NO NO NO NO. NOT THE EVIL CHAIR.

Evil chair will kill you. Evil chair will show them your brain which shows them your plan to rebel against them. Do not trust the evil chair Hilbert. For a smart man, you make some remarkably and unbelievably dumb decisions.

I want to believe in them. I do, I really really do. But unfortunately, I know that there is an entire other season left. So...

It's not looking good. Personally, I think the most expendable is Hilbert. They can kill the character off without having to fire the actor. If anyone's about to die, it's him.

The "terrible trio", I like it Doug. Good nickname for SI-5.

The um...the blunt force trauma face?

Oh my this hypothetical of Maxwell, Kepler, and Jacobi falling apart is music, sweet music.

If only...if only.

They are really counting on the SI-5 acting exactly like this. I hope they get it right. I do love the way they make Whiskey Boy out to be such a cartoon villain. He really is.

Oh they're conflicted about who to target. That's right Hera. Target Duck boy. I mean...they did already kill him once, right?

Although slight problem. Let's say they do kill SI-5. Let's say they try to fly the ship back to earth. Can't Cutter just blow the ship up remotely? He'll probably send a missel after them before they even get into the atmosphere. I mean...what would you even do in this situation? He's literally got them bargaining for every second of their lives. Makes you wonder how many teams he has out there like this...

What happened? No gas? Oh dear. Plan B?

HIT MAXWELL WITH A WRENCH? POP A WEASEL?

I don't like how this is going.

"I'm glad I have you alone" Hilbert stop it.

Opponent is not going to hesitate to kill you. That's true. But you can't forget who the enemies are. Cutter and Pryce. And yes. SOMETHING IS WRONG!

Oh dear. Well this is terribly awkward.

...um...so...Maxwell. Duck Boy. Fancy a mutiny?

Guess not. Oh dear. This is bad. This is very very bad.

IS NOT ABOUT THE CONTACT EVENT! IT'S ABOUT THEM GETTING BACK AND YOU KNOW IT.

I KNEW THAT YOU COULDN'T TRUST HER.

"Don't struggle?"

Not the brain sweeping. Maxwell you have lost all my respect, and likely your own if you still had any left in you.

Shut up Duck Boy, literally no one wants to hear from you.

Well this is a pickle. How will our heroes (and Hilbert) get out of this one? 👀

Episode 45: Desperate Measures

"Wakey-wakey", shut up errand boys.

"Passion for disciplining crew members, isn't that right Jacobi?" You're a sadist waste of space who works for a sadist waste of space, we got that Whiskey Boy.

Oh great. Another super secret room. There's probably thousands of them at this rate. A whole city in the sky.

What a nice little room of weapons. As a lover of dramatic irony, I do hope Dr. Robot and our dear Errand Boys find themselves on the other side of those weapons.

Hera you can delay having to respond to her commands! You can! Remember: You can't do this. You're not good enough. Use it to your advantage.

"I knew it!" you did Doug. And yeah, Hilbert didn't sink so low.

"Kill whoever you like least", well there goes Hilbert.

Good work Hera! 🥰 Oh dear it hurts.

THE VENTS! That's right! Go Minkowski!

Geez does Whiskey Boy ever tire of the sound of his own voice? I guess not.

Shut it Kepler! Yeah Doug! He can go to hell! Tell him off!

Doug: "You're crazy"

Kepler: "No Doug. I'm just a man that wants to be taken seriously. That's why I'm sitting here with a gun in one hand, glass of Whisky in the other, while singing "Eeny, meeny, miny, moe" like a cartoon supervillain. There's nothing more respectable or serious than that."

Lovelace is speaking FACTS. He has lost his humanity. But um...ironically so might have Lovelace. Or all of them still unclear on that.

"You're hilarious" "one more thing I have that you don't" ooohhh... dang, it that ain't the truth. No one will be as funny as Doug, but if anyone comes close it's certainly not Whisky boy.

"Very nice speech captain" Well it was better than the Whisky speech Kepler. Take notes.

That's right Lovelace. Who cares what Kepler see when he looks at you? No one. Because he is a waste of space.

She'll survive because of magic alien plot armor.

Aw, she did it for Doug. That's really sweet.

And...off goes the gun. But no screams. He better not have shot Doug.

"You have 30 minutes to think about what you've done. Then we'll talk about Eiffel."

I know I should be furious over the whole "what you've done" comment, but I gotta ask, how dangerously stupid is Kepler? 30 minutes is plenty of time to put a plan into action. What does Kepler need 30 minutes for? Swirling his Whisky around and telling Doug how much he loves the feel of it in his hands.

Why don't you mind your own business Maxwell? Why don't you shut up and mind your own business and throw yourself in the airlock?

Good stalling Hera...yes! Finally knocked out Dr. Robot. Now, as much as I am against murder, eye for an eye, and all that...in this situation, keeping her alive puts multiple innocents at risk.

Anyone got an eye on Duck Boy?

Kepler doesn't care about Maxwell! He doesn't care about anyone!

Doug...great speech for this to work, he has to care about human life, and he clearly doesn't.

Yeah, I don't really like chess either Doug.

Why do I feel like he's going to hurt Hera in a way that only Maxwell can fix?

Ah there he is. "I wouldn't do that so someone. I just blow people up to kill them! :)" ugh Duck Boy is the worst. I knew that he was off doing something silly. "Crazy Jacobi the loose canon" dude, you're Duck Boy. That's your existence.

And I knew Hilbert would be the one to go. They don't have to fire his voice actor to kill him, which makes him expendable.

Well it took a very long time to get here, but looks like Hilbert is finally gonna kick the bucket. And yeah, you guys have no idea how long they've been trying to kill Hilbert. If it was Doug, I'd be more worried, but between Hilbert and Doug, Doug's got the plot armor.

And...there he goes! Oh wait...did she shoot Maxwell! Oh be quiet Jacobi, it's not like you ever actually cared about her. If Cutter or Kepler ordered you to kill her, you would have done it.

You can't talk sense into him Doug. He's a nutcase. We established that.

I love Doug. "Well it's been a topsy-turvy day!"

And see Kepler? Not so fun playing with lives when yours is on the chopping block, now is it?

Yes Doug! Tell him! Oh poor Whisky Boy, are you gonna cry?

Right three people dead: Lovelace, Hilbert, and Maxwell. That's a lot. My money is on Lovelace coming back due to alien magic, Hilbert dead for good, maybe Maxwell lives on in Hera's memory or flashback land.

YES! I love Doug's loyalty to Minkowski!

Does Kepler have an escape pod? I feel like he would. Oh he's telling his duck boy to stand down. But duck boy doesn't seem too happy about that. I guess he cared a bit more for Maxwell than Kepler, even if he would have shot her if given the order.

"Finally over" hm...I seriously doubt that.

Ah yes the aliens. I wonder what they have to say about all this. And Kepler please shut up. "You want to be in charge of this mess, fine." The mutiny literally just happened on your watch. You spent half the crew budget on expensive Whiskey. You don't care at all that Maxwell is dead.

Episode 46: Bolero

Is that music? Um... what is this? I do wonder why they chose to send music, when they've demonstrated that they can send voices.

Yeah...this is a lot. And they lost their human doctor and robot doctor. As much as I hated them, they were useful. Unlike the errand boys, who only seem to be good a cowering in fear from ducks and giving speeches about whisky.

Oh and apparently they like music too. How nice.

"If the commander wishes for silence, then silence she shall have" and yet you're still talking.

Yeah...what do they do now. They have to warn everyone, expose Cutter and get him to jail, but the aliens are also invading. Oh gosh, are Cutter and Pryce aliens? Is this a plot to replace humanity with aliens? That at least makes more sense than Cutter's a loon who just wants to take a gander at some dangerous aliens, but why do I get the feeling that "Cutter's crazy" is what's actually happening here?

Oh right Kepler's special DNA. But your DNA still works even if it's detached from your body, right? 🧬

"We owe it to Lovelace, Hilbert, and Maxwell..." good work Doug. They were evil, they were flawed, but they were still humans.

Oh Hera. Wow, we don't have funerals for animals???? Yikes... I'm starting to see how she was modeled after Pryce now. In that case, I wonder what happened to Pryce. Also Hera, I get what you're saying, but that's an insult to animals. Many cats and dogs I've met are very loyal, kind, and useful.

oh dear she's talking to Lovelace's ghost/memory. 🥺 It's not your fault Minkowski. It was never your fault. And yeah...you all deserve to make it home.

That is if there is even a home to come back to...

Doug, Hera, come on. You're best friends. Wow. And yeah, she and Maxwell were friends, that's why she's so upset! Oh right...if one human friend betrayed her...oh Hera...Doug's not like her you know that! Maxwell would sell you out, Jacobi would sell her out, and Kepler would sell him out, but Doug? Doug would never sell anyone out.

"I know what it's like to not get a chance to say goodbye. And I don't think you're past the point of not caring. Not yet." That's sweet Doug. But you're giving him a bit too much credit. Oh he's mad he killed her? Fair enough, but Jacobi...you said yourself you were monsters! Do you really want to try to claim the moral high ground here? That's right Doug! Tell him! "You're gonna like it...I mean you're gonna feel sad!" Yeah! That's right! Shove the compassion down his throat Doug. Sometimes that's the way you gotta do it.

Minkowski is gonna have some pretty severe PTSD after this. I want to hug her.

Oh no, Hera's remembering Maxwell. "Was everything you did for me part of a secret evil plan?" it's not that simple Hera. Bad people can do good things. Good people can do bad things. Cognitive dissonance Hera, that's how it's possible. Compartmentalization. Circular and deluded thinking. And fake Maxwell is right. It's about you Hera. It's not about her. Forget about Maxwell. Forget about Pryce. You're better than them, and more human too.

Yes Hera, get the feelings out. No, Doug she's coming around!

Oh no...no no no...Doug is wasted isn't he? Kepler's private supply no doubt...oh no... oh Doug.

"I killed them Hera." no you didn't Doug! Intentions matter! You are the ship's moral compass. Don't drink yourself off.

"I'm a drunken mess whether I have a drink or not." oh Doug. Doug.

Please don't give yourself alcohol poison. Oh good self-talk from Hilbert. Yeah Doug never wanted anyone to die.

"How else did you think this was going to end?"

Aw, Doug has so much hope. Never lose that Doug. Never lose it. And yeah, it's nice to believe in redemption. It is theoretically possible. Though in certain cases, highly unlikely. I won't name names.

So...it's just Doug and Jacobi at the funeral? Well. This is incredibly awkward...

Oh right, Hera's never been to a funeral...

Oh nvm Kepler's here for the food. He's so gross.

They gave Hera grief but no way to deal with it? Oh she can't understand why they are gone? The "I wonder if I'll miss you when you go away forever too" is hitting different.

Minkowski came through!

Wow, Jacobi actually is able to say a few nice words.

Dr. Hilbert was a monster 😂. Fair. Completely fair. See ya later Doc. I think Hilbert would have liked it.

Oh don't let Kepler talk. He'd ruin the funeral. Though to be fair, he'd ruin anything.

Never mind looks like the aliens beat him to the punch.

Looks like the aliens decided to come early.

Uh...HERA?

KEEPING WHAT OUT?

Tell me the aliens aren't already here.

Is Lovelace coming back? Oh Kepler knew this was going to happen.

"It can't hear you." DO NOT CALL HER AN IT KEPLER. Alien or not, she's a...well she's a someone.

So she IS an alien? An alien who acts like her? Okay... and yes please, let's start at the beginning. It's about time Kepler. If you're going to talk, you might as well say something useful.

Now I've procrastinated enough but...wow this doesn't look good. Hopefully the crew can get back safely.

[josephslittledeputy]

WIP... Oh shit, its actually Wednesday??

Tagged by @wrathfulrook @clicheantagonist @marivenah @cassietrn @the-silver-chronicles @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat and I thiiiiink that's it... sorry if you've tagged me & you're not on here, its been a hot minute since I've posted a wip wednesday & my memory is basically Swiss cheese

Tagging anyone who wants to self indulgently share a WIP! Feel free to tag me, I love to read new stuff :)

**Also terribly sorry in advance cause this turned out to be a bit longer than I thought it would be**

WIP 1: OG Verse - fun times with Celeste & Gabriel

He has to resist the urge to throttle her, lest he ruin the inside of his house filled with years of carefully handpicked items, ones he held a certain fondness for. "You ruined my life, Celeste. Or do you not recall?” "Your life?" She tilts her head in mock curiosity. "What life? The one where you were sent anywhere they told you to go, like some mongrel with a barely slackened leash?" “Excuse me?" “We can pretend otherwise. Keep up the illusion that your life was marvelous, picture perfect even. But we both know the truth, don't we?" She takes a step closer. “You were nothing but the High Council’s defanged pup. Cluelessly doing their bidding before I freed you. If anything, you should be thanking me." "Thanking you?" He clenches and unclenches his fist in an attempt to suppress his anger. "Hate me if you must, fight me even, but do it later. Right now we must get out of here. If they do not know where I am yet, they soon will. What do you think will happen once they realize one of their precious dhamphirs has been under their nose this whole time?"

Celeste truly is the nicest individual you'll ever meet :))

Including this little snippet from Gabriel's pov as well cause idk, I just really like it

Unbidden worry strikes him. He listens, waits, and when his ears pick up the sound of soft, even breathing he lets out a breath of his own. Celeste and the baby were still there, unharmed, perhaps even sleeping. It brings an odd sense of comfort, reminiscent of times long forgotten, times he didn’t want to remember. If he did, he’d have to remember what brought them to a halt in the first place and he had a job to do. Grief and old wounds had no place here, at least not at the moment. Kicking his boots off, he treks into the bathroom and gently closes the door behind him. It’s a simple design: Shower to his left, toilet to his right, and a sink with a mirror above it directly across from the door. Leaning against the sink, he ruffles his short, black hair that's shaved on the sides and traces his fingers over an old, faded scar. It runs down almost the whole length of his face, going over his left eye and stopping just shy of the corner of his mouth. Overlapping it is another, only this one goes across his face horizontally, over the bridge of his nose and from cheek to cheek. The only thing that remains of the old Gabriel are his blue eyes, once full of life and mischief, now faded and dull. Turning away from his visage, he heads toward the shower and turns it on, stripping down while he waits for the water to heat up. He doesn’t need a mirror to see the multitude of scars and tattoos that adorn his body. Aching for another drink—if only to dull his senses and lingering memories once more—he curbs the yearning and steps beneath the water.

WIP 2: They Watch From The Pews

Willa squirms, trying to dodge cold fingers that reach out to trace over the letters, caressing them with a sadistic fascination that makes her stomach curdle in disgust. Disgust quickly transforms into a desperation to get away once he finally reveals the knife kept hidden behind his back. “Usually I’d peel the sin off but… I think this will suit you much better, don't you?" Pressing the tip of his blade into her skin, he teasingly drags it across her skin. "Tell me, Deputy, how did you feel when you got the news of Samuel's death?" "Chipper." She spitefully answers with a sneer. John heaves a dramatic sigh and presses the blade down harder, prompting tiny beads of blood to bubble up as he traces over the letters of her tattoo. "You can make this easier for yourself, you know." "I've heard that before. Got me a bullet to the leg." "Because you ran. My men only acted accordingly." "Fuck you and your men, pussy." "My, what a mouth on you." He tuts and makes a deeper cut. Her teeth sink into the leather in her mouth, denying him the satisfaction of hearing her make a noise. Without pause, he moves onto the second letter, brows scrunched up in concentration as he goes over the lines again and again. It isn’t until he’s on the last letter that she finally breaks with a muffled groan. He stops, lifting his eyes from his work. “Comfortable?”

John & Willa are bonding so well. Truly, I think they're starting to get along!

[autumnwoodsdreamer]

Write a Different Chapter for Us

Chapter Seven: The Distract and Conquer Strategy

.....

Summary: Tony’s not-so-successful meeting with the board

Words: 3391

Rating: Teen

Characters: Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov, Pepper Potts

Relationships: Tony Stark/Natasha Romanov, Tony Stark & Pepper Potts

Tags: established relationship, family, pregnancy, conversations, PTSD, hurt/comfort

Note: Excuse my terrible math. Seven chapters, not six. Sorry. Carry on.

“The stock is going to be a major talking point.”

“Uh-huh.”

New York didn’t feel the same, but Tony couldn’t figure out what had changed.

“And that very public tussle with Whiplash is going to come up. It has a lot of investors nervous. Hence the stock drops.”

“Right. Got it.”

Everything was more or less right the way he had left it. There were some newly bent streetlights and a few obviously filled-in craters littering the sidewalks (apparently the X-Men and the Brotherhood had had another... tiff). But, other than that, it was the same city, teeming with the same hustle and bustle.

“But if we pull their focus to the latest advancements in our medical tech departments, we may be able to keep them happy... or distracted, at the very least.”

“Yeah? Good. That’s good.”

Actually, scratch that. The hustle and bustle was different. The people were... it was summer—summer vacation. There were more families out and about.

“We just have to be careful not to get through the business side of business too soon or we’ll back ourselves into a corner.”

“Of course.”

A young boy sat on his father’s shoulders, clearly thrilled by his new perspective of the world. His mother walked alongside; she looked like she was enjoying the sunny morning and whatever they had planned, but she still kept a careful eye on her son.

“Oh, and Galactus called. He’d like to replace our CFO.”

“Okay.”

Tony didn’t know the family, but he found himself hoping they had a good day, hoping nothing bad happened to them. Bad things happened way too often, especially these days—

He jerked backwards. Blinking rapidly, he pulled his gaze away from the window and rushed to orient himself. Car, backseat, Pepper, board meeting, stocks... Galactus? “Wait, what?”

Her glare, shot sideways, was about as subtle as his spacing out. “Are you with me now?”

He pried his fingers off the door handle, his knuckles aching from the death-grip. “Yeah. Sorry. Just... making sure New York’s still in one piece.”

“It’s all there and I can assure you it will still be there after this meeting.”

“I know.”

“Tony, I really need you to focus on—”

“So. Classic distract and conquer strategy?”

The sharp turn back to the matter at hand did little to convince Pepper he was fully on board, but she didn’t work with him for more than a decade and not learn the meaning of “futile” so she let it go with a terse sigh. “Basically, we just need to show them you aren’t dead and remind them that, even if you were, the company is standing on its own two feet and moving ahead.”

Tony grimaced. “Did the stock really drop that bad?”

She passed him her tablet, dropping it in his lap before he could track the movement. He stamped down the instinct to jolt backwards and forced himself to hold it, forced his focus to hone in on the colourful graphs and charts on the screen, forced himself to ignore the sudden flare of heat in his chest.

“You got attacked by a guy who sliced a garbage truck in half like it was a block of butter and then you made no verifiable appearance for almost a month. Yes, the stock suffered. Haven’t you seen the news?”

“Uh... no. Not really. Been a bit busy... recovering, you know?”

Something adjusted in her expression at that; he never did learn the right word to describe it—he knew it wasn’t quite sympathy, but it wasn’t totally devoid of care, either. With or without a name, he had come to understand it as her way of saying-without-saying: “Your life is ridiculous and I’m surprised you aren’t dead or dismembered yet... but I am glad you’re well.”

“Look,” she said, her critical tone easing, “I’ll run point on this. Just back my play and do what you do best.”

“Put on a show?”

That got a smile. “Yes, but no fireworks.”

“How about sparklers?”

“Nothing flammable.”

“Buzz-kill.”

“Fine. You can have glow-sticks.”

“Thanks, boss.”

. . . . .

Business mode took over, enabling Tony to project his most presentable version of himself: not dead, not in pain, totally on the ball and not thinking about anything that didn’t pertain to the company and its interests.

He sold the image well—Obadiah used to say he could sell water to a drowning man—but that was all it was: an image, i.e. no substance.

The pretty picture started fading as the meeting ran overtime. It was just a few small things: he couldn’t quite sit up straight, his replies came short and clipped, and he was just too aware of the knot of his tie touching his throat.

No one noticed; no one that wasn’t Pepper, anyway.

From all the way on the other side of the room, she caught him sliding two fingers between his tie and collar, not-so-subtly trying to tug it loose. She gave him a look; not exactly the glare he earned earlier in the car, but it was nearly there.

He corrected the action, turning it into a subconscious attire assessment. It couldn’t fool her but it didn’t have to.

They only just reached the finance affairs as the clock struck noon. Tony excused himself to the bathroom; he didn’t have to, but he mentioned the curry—it bought a few knowing chuckles and an eye-roll from Pepper which was always worth it.

After washing up, he didn’t hurry to return. He pulled out his phone and commandeered a spot on the floor near the sinks—Stark Tower’s restrooms were cleaner than operating theatres and his germophobia came and went as it pleased, so as long as he didn’t think about it, he was okay.

He wasn’t surprised to see no messages waiting for him; Pepper used to insist he keep his personal phone off while handling SI business but Iron Man, SHIELD liaising, and then the Avengers corroded that rule—now she just asked he keep it on silent.

No messages didn’t necessarily mean no problems. A tight, invisible band remained fixed around his chest as he typed and sent off a simple “Everything alright?” message.

Natasha replied within seconds. “All fine.”

Tony told himself he had to believe that. “Might be home an hour late,” he told her.

She sent a low resolution picture of a kitten with big, sad eyes.

He huffed a laugh, the small sound echoing in the confined space. The fact he married the World’s Most Dangerous Women never for a moment escaped him, but it certainly made her brand of texting that much more amusing.

“Want me to get you anything?”

“No. Had lunch ;)”

“Ok. Stay safe. Love you.”

He signed off with a heart emoji because that was another thing he did now (Peter once told him it was inaccurate and he should use the blue circle instead).

He checked the news, then checked his message bank again. No calls to assemble, no giant robots attacking the city, no aliens threatening invasion. He checked the time, reminded himself he had to get back. He checked the weather... and then the news again, just to be sure.

Nothing was happening in the world—nothing he could fix, anyway. It should’ve been a relief, but it wasn’t.

Giving the phone a rest, he shut his eyes and tilted his head back against the cold, tiled wall. Silence asserted itself, but between the constant ringing in his ears and the white noise of his thoughts, he hardly noticed.

Hiding in the bathroom wasn’t exactly professional; he knew he should pick himself up off the floor, get back, and give this his best, as was expected... but motivation eluded him.

In a bid to compromise, he allotted five minutes of peace and sternly told himself he couldn’t have more than that. When his five minutes were up, he got to his feet and headed out before he could argue.

Somewhere along the way back to the conference room, he decided to ditch the tie altogether, rolling it up and stowing it in his pocket.

The mood had shifted in his absence; judging by the stiff set of Pepper’s shoulders, it wasn’t good...

. . . . .

It was close to two in the afternoon by the time Tony got back to the Compound.

Sam, testing his new wings by flying circuits overhead, saw him arrive and waved from the sky; Tony responded with a mock salute.

On his way to the residential block, he caught sight of Steve and Daisy jogging around the lake; they were far enough away that he couldn’t exactly hear what they were saying to each other, but he still heard Daisy’s laugh—full and bright and real.

Beyond them, he just managed to glimpse some coloured blurs zipping about amongst the trees bordering the far side of the lake. Red and blue, white and black and teal, and—only now and then—a black and red blur: Peter, Gwen, and Miles. They liked to call their races and convoluted games of tag “training” in the hopes of appearing serious; Tony really didn’t care what they called it, he was just glad they were all enjoying their summer vacation.

Tracing his way through the lobby, heading for the elevator, a thought occurred to him: if someone had told him just six years ago that this was where Iron Man would take him, that he’d make a home filled with such crazy, colourful, incredible people, he wouldn’t have imagined anything like this; here on the other side of it, he couldn’t believe his life had once been so bland.

He wasn’t holding himself so stiffly when he finally reached his apartment, but hours of playing businessman had strained his still healing muscles. A dull but deep ache radiated from his core and seemed to settle in his bones; with effort, he could continue ignoring it, but experience warned him it would be worse the next day.

It didn’t escape Natasha’s trained sight. The second he walked in, her head snapped up and her gaze flicked from the hefty folder in her lap to him. After just a mere glimpse, her lips quirked and “I told you so” lit up in brilliant neon in her eyes.

He pointed an exaggeratedly stern finger at her. “Don’t say it!”

She tilted her head and batted her eyelashes. “Okay. Then you say it.”

“No.”

“Then I’m gonna say it.”

“Don’t you d—”

“You should’ve worn the brace.”

He rolled his eyes but a smile ruined the effect. “For the record, you didn’t tell me to wear it today.”

She shrugged and returned her attention to... whatever she was doing. “I’ve said it like a million times already; just pull up a memory and stamp today’s date on it.”

“Nag.”

“You love me.”

“Yeah. I do.” He kicked off his shoes and draped his wrinkled suit jacket over the arm of the couch.

Without looking, Natasha gathered some of the papers splayed out on the couch cushions and patted the now free space.

Tony accepted the invitation, collapsing bonelessly beside her. He took advantage of the respite and tried to relax; he didn’t mean for his eyes to slip closed, but he really wasn’t up to fighting it.

As nice as it was to be back in his own space, with Natasha safe and sound beside him, he got the sense this day wasn’t over just yet. “I’m a little scared to ask: but what is all...” he gestured halfheartedly, his hand hardly rising off the couch, “this?”

“Our next mission. Fury dropped it off just after you left this morning.” She nudged him softly in the side with her elbow before sliding the folder from her lap to his.

With a frown, Tony opened his eyes. “Natasha, I don’t know if you should—“

“I told him.”

“Oh.” He blinked and smoothed out the frown; it came back half-strength. “And... what did he say?”

“That he’ll take care of the heavy lifting.” She tapped the folder. “This looks like it’s more about research and connect-the-dots than chasing bad guys anyway.”

“Yeah, they always start that way.” Reluctantly, he pulled himself out of his slouch and began flipping through the papers. Reports, he supposed; he wasn’t making himself read anything. The thick blocks of words upon words soon gave way to photographs and he slowed down—maybe he could piece it together with just pictures for now.

The first few didn’t immediately connect to any relevant information: shards of metal, charred and jagged; bits of broken glass scattered over asphalt; cars with gashes and slashes and crumpled hoods.

Everything rushed into focus when he came to a photograph of a long, coiled tail of razors—segmented for flexibility and serrated for brutality.

“This is about Whiplash,” he said, his voice somehow quieter than he meant it to be.

“Fury’s been looking into it. He doesn’t think the Maggia was involved.”

“Okay... so who is?”

“He doesn’t know. Our best lead right now is whoever supplied Scarlotti’s new tech.” Natasha picked out a leaf of papers from the spread by her hip. “Here,” she said as she placed it in his grasp, covering the photographs. “This is the report from SHIELD’s engineers. They’ve been examining it and this is what they have so far.”

“I didn’t know he left anything behind.”

“Well, I doubt he meant to; he was just in a hurry to get away.”

“Yeah, Hulk has that effect on people.”

Tony skimmed through the specs, curiosity buying his concentration. With just a glance, he could tell it wasn’t AIM’s handiwork, as he (and everyone else) had initially assumed. The design wasn’t simple, but it was straightforward, not encumbered with all the unnecessary frills AIM loved to add just because they could.

Also, it relied more on hardware than software. It was designed to shred and tear and slash, to make a mess: AIM liked weapons of devastion, such as blasters and bombs, but they thought too highly of their technological prowess to resort to tricking out medieval torture implements.

He scoured the information, the mechanic in him taking over, dismantling and reconstructing, fitting all the bits into place, seeing all the ways to improve it. Some parts struck him as just too familiar, stoking a weatherbeaten sense of indignation as he recognized components of his own invention mingled in with the otherwise unique design.

The report ended too quickly. Turning the last page, expecting to find more, the photograph of the whip lying inert on the road caught him off guard.

Huh.

He hadn’t noticed all that blood before... Was it all his? Had to be. Must’ve been from when it—

He closed the folder; he did it too fast and some papers folded funny and others just fell out altogether. “I’d like to have a look at the tech myself,” he said.

Natasha hummed. “I thought you might.”

“SHIELD engineers are good but... there’s, um... there’s things that they... they miss things.”

“Yeah, I know.” With the grace of her namesake, she moved the folder off his lap and placed it on the coffee table. With slow, purposeful movements, she tended to the papers, neatening and straightening, replacing and reordering, clearing the couch and the table. “How’s Pepper?” she asked, her tone light, even, steadying.

Tony rubbed at his eyes, tried to shift gears and follow along. “She’s... she’s good.”

“And Happy? Still enjoying the security business?”

He attempted a laugh; it sounded strangled. “Must be. HR is flooded with complaints. I didn’t see him today, though.”

“Too busy?”

“No. Pepper said he had a cold.”

“Again?”

“I think he’s just allergic to Socrates.”

He knew what she was doing. It was a trick, in the same way saving someone from drowning by luring them back to land after they’ve unwittingly drifted too far out to sea is a trick. It worked: he was back in the shallows. He wasn’t on the shore yet but at least he could stand.

He appreciated the distract and conquer strategy—really, he did—but...

Leaning forward, he got the weight off his chest so he could take a full breath. He held it, counted, then let it go in a sigh. “I’m sorry, Tasha, it’s just...”

“It’s alright. It’s always a little bumpy getting back into things.”

“But it shouldn’t be. I should be better than this.”

She moved. He braced, expecting a hand on his back or shoulder, but none came; instead, she uncrossed her legs and tucked them underneath her, moving so as to press up against his side. “It came up in the meeting today, didn’t it?” she ventured.

He nodded.

“Let me guess: the stocks dipped.”

“A bit, but the board was more concerned with...” He gestured, stiffly, aimlessly, but it didn’t help him find the words.

“With... how it looked?” Natasha supplied.

An empty laugh slipped out; he instantly wished he could take it back. “You know, it’s funny: when Iron Man takes on alien invasions or monsters that popped right out of fairytales, he looks like a hero; but when he gets into a wrestling match with a mobster who leaves him looking like a soda can someone stepped on, he’s just... reckless.”

In all fairness, it wasn’t an unanimous view; most of the directors and shareholders either liked Iron Man or were indifferent to Tony’s extracurricular activities, comfortable to let him do whatever he wanted so long as he kept it separate from the company. But there were others: ones who didn’t hate Iron Man, per se, but weren’t exactly thrilled with his existence.

Keith Laurel, one of the few board members who had worked with both Howard and Obadiah, had been the most vocal today. “We’re a multi-national tech conglomerate on the forefront of innovation, and we’re picking street fights with a local crime family now? Do you have any idea how that looks?”

Tony had had to physically bite his tongue at that remark. For one thing, calling the Maggia a local crime family was tantamount to calling McDonald’s a family-run diner. And while he couldn’t figure out what he’d done recently to tick them off, he definitely didn’t go and pick that fight.

Pepper had stepped in then and pointed out that Iron Man’s activities didn’t necessarily reflect on Stark Industries because, technically, he didn’t work for them. She addressed it, then, in the very next breath, directed attention to the medical labs in South America and their recent breakthroughs in prosthetic limbs, but Laurel wasn’t having it.

He had fixed his gaze on Tony. “You’re not CEO anymore. That’s a fact. But you still own this company—the company your father left you. The things you do affect his legacy. What would he think?”

It wasn’t a new sentiment. If he had a dollar for every time someone played the “What would your father say?” card on him, his fortune would double. He had heard it so many times throughout his life, parroted and reiterated to the point that, honestly, he��d grown numb to it.

None of it was new: stock drops, unhappy board members, legacies upheld or profaned, attacks on Iron Man, attacks on Tony Stark—he was used to it.

He was used to it, but this time... it didn’t feel the same.

“You aren’t reckless,” Natasha said, cutting through the storm brewing in his head. “I didn’t marry a reckless man, and I swear I would never have a child with one.”

Tony scoffed before he could censor himself. “I didn’t get attacked for no reason. I must’ve done something, I just... I can’t figure it out.”

She brought her hand into his field of vision before touching his chin and coaxing him to turn his head and look at her; the intensity in her eyes was strangely calming. “I don’t know why Whiplash attacked you, but I know you didn’t invite it.”

When her gaze became too much, he closed his eyes, but he didn’t pull away. He bowed his head so that his forehead met hers. It hurt, twisting and leaning to the side like that, but he didn’t care. “I’ll fix this, I promise.”

Her hand moved to cup the back of his head, anchoring him. “We’ll fix it together.”

. . . . .

<<< Previous Chapter

🍁 Thanks for reading! 🍁

[ndostairlyrium]

✨ Self Rec Tag Game✨

I was tagged by the creator of the tag game herself, @shivunin and I'm terribly sorry if I came back to it super late ;; it was super fun looking at what others made with it tho <3 people are so talented!!

Rules: Share five of your own fanworks (fic, art, etc.). Then, tag five more people to share the things they've made.

Something you absolutely adore

Something that was challenging to create

Something that makes you laugh (or smile, if that fits more comfortably) 

Something that surprised you (in how it turned out, how much other people liked it, etc.)

Something you want other people to see

For those I'll tag: categories aren't necessary, "they're more guidelines than rules" (cit. @shivunin)

I may have broken the rules because I'm chronically undecided << hopefully it's fine sorry in advance

Something you absolutely adore

I just... I'm into chill and comfy vibes <<' These three together bring me so much joy, like, I remember reading all their interactions on the wikia and smiling like an idiot because I wished that all of it was more blatant rather than "yea there's a 3% chance you'll get this interaction in game"

Something that was challenging to create

Probably the first batch from everything-else-but-Inktober 2020. I decided to drop the idea of messing with inks and straight up exercised on things I usually fail at / wanted to improve. The whole challenge was, well, a challenge. I remember struggling from day 1 to 30 because I'm terrible at studies, I tend to filter and filter and filter and... But I like the results!! Far from perfect, but I've learnt big deal through it ;; If you're interested, here's the links to the instagram posts: Weeks 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

Something that makes you laugh (or smile, if that fits more comfortably) 

I can't decide! Aaaaaargh Here, have a multitude of things that make me crack a smile :'D

...I wanted to add more but I don't wanna make another monsterpost :'D

Something that surprised you (in how it turned out, how much other people liked it, etc.)

This fanart of Ophélie from Le Passe Miroir, which I'm very proud of ;; I know it doesn't seem like a huge accomplishment or an art megazord, but I was very in my head before opening Photoshop but during the process, when I realized I was doing exactly what I pictured beforehand, I just couldn't stop being proud of myself lol which is something I don't experience a lot :'''

Also this comm I did for @n7viper that made me say "oh, you can handle this" This was quite the experience ;; thanks again for letting me work on this dude <3 I started with a greyscale then added colors, which is a technique I used some times and like, I was sure it was challenging because it's super hard to balance everything out, but when things came out exactly how I wanted them to be?? Woah, alright Picasso, slay

Something you want other people to see

-My dwarven ladies 🧔✨

you can check it out here

-The things I'm doing for this artfight lol I think I leveled up in some cases 👌

These are previews, everything will be posted in this blog, my artblog, insta, twitter etc etc

-The collabs and trades I made with some of the most talented people I know and cherish ;;

Like this one amongst the many I did with @greypetrel who dragged me back into Lord of the Rings after years and I'll be forever thankful for that ;; but also for the experience <3

Or these ones I did with @underneathestars Plus our joint effort for last year's N7 Day: her post - my post That was a challenge and your girls served 💅

Also This!!! Courtesy of @demandthedoodles This was like, one of the funniest - yet astounding - outcomes from a sketch I almost forgot I made lol I need to print this out when I can!

I would include all of them, because I traded art and collaborated with people I really appreciate but I can't possibly include other things ;; I'll mass reblog / share them in the next days!

Also, thanks again @shivunin for this tag game ;; I discovered things I've never seen from people I follow and found out awesome new things from people I didn't follow already. So super fun <3

I'm tagging (no pressure, no commitment): @n7viper @underneathestars @qwib @skeltrr @lethalhoopla @kassarts @aukanemin @ii-then @daggerbean @vaesivlasta @sparatus

[yourlocalstranger123]

Hi!✨anon here.How are you?Can I ask a general hc of how Barbara would react with a s/o that is an Idol in other regions?thx!

1. Sorry, I couldn't really find the owner of it, but on top left corner, it tells you where it came from

2 Youtube poster: Genshin impact

Ofc! Anything for you :D

Note; honestly idk if—...ok thus is gonna sound weird/wrong or at least to me but idk if you want like Barbara x reader or something?? I'm terrible at this. Ima just do what my mind says, advance apology; sorry if it ain't right. I can change it also you are taller than her. I will make you taller than Barbara

DeviantArt artist: EvanVizuett

Barbara & Idol! Reader

Bold is reader

The first day you both met was when she was thinking 'when will I be tall as big sister?'

(Just a little famous line of hers—)

Until she heard some people in the corners talking about you. She knew eavesdropping was bad, but she's so curious! What business do you have with her big sister? Well, she knew you were famous judging from how many people were talking about you. She also heard that you were gonna arrive tomorrow and Jean would be there! How exciting to meet this "person".

The next day she saw you. Her eyes widened as she never saw this kind of beauty, but soon enough, her view was blocked by the crowd of people. She tried getting closer to you, but the time she was in front of the crowd, she stumbled on a rock, and her face was about to land on the ground. She shuts her eyes, waiting for the impact. She didn't feel the impact. She opened her eyes to look up to meet yours. 'Ah....this is so embarrassing...!' She covered her face, then bowed down, apologizing for the trouble.

You reassured her that it was no big deal and was concerned if she was ok. You didn't know Jean little sister was so shy. Well, actually, you kinda expected it since Jean herself was a little shy. Jean helped Barbara get up and check if any injuries had gotten to her. Thankfully no, not a single scratch. Jean thanks you for catching her sister. Even after some years of meeting, she's still so shy. You known her well, so you could read her like a book. She is hella red.

You gave her a pack of ice, "Oh my, you're getting all red! Is the heat getting to you?" You tried holding back a laugh. Key word; tried. You let out some laughs. You promise that you would go around to see mondstadt more with Jean. Anyways back to Barbara, she tags along of course. It was an off day for her, so she spends her time with her big sister and you! It's technically a win-win.

You and Jean talked about etc. As she listened to your beautiful voice, she heard that you were an idol!

"Wow! You're so cool! Oh? *gasp* You are an idol from multiple regions?! What was it like there?" She would probably ask you some questions about the travel of yours throughout the regions. She does asks you, "What kind of Idol are you?" If you say you sing, she would practically and politely beg for you to come sing at the church. She tells you about Barbatos and asks you to sing some personal song for her and the church, and maybe Venti Barbatos would come and love to hear your voice. She's also very surprised how good you control your voice.

She would 10/10 let out some laughs if you do some goofy, micky mouse voice or something—

If you say dancing, she would asks you to maybe make up some dances for her and maybe Jean will join for fun. She would look up to your lessons of dancing. She's fascinated of how many styles of dancing there is.

If you are like a style idol (I forgot what it's called), she would love for you to design some outfits. Oh how she loves how you know exactly her taste, "aww, you look so adorable." You chuckled at the flustered state she's in. She would also be curious about how big sister would look like in the style of clothes you would do for her.

You and Barbara had a great time.

Twitter artist/poster: MattjesticG

[fivewholeminutes]

introductions and some info

i'm on this website for more than a decade and this is the first time i've made a themed blog cause idk. i'm still terrified of interacting with anyone (we're all anonymous here, WHY AM I ANXIOUS), but the need to scream about sleep token is stronger. i am going to be extremely awkward if you decide to interact with me, sorry in advance, believe me, i am trying

name's alex, i'm polish and uuuh. i go by she/her, but i'm not picky.

i'm here mostly for lyrics analysis/theories and memes! and reblogging cool sacred moments and fanart and general yelling about the band i guess i've got comfortable enough to post my art here too so you may see something from time to time

if you put your selfies in the band tag just to have more views, i will block you, i don't have patience for that (if it's band-related, like a halloween make-up or sth, it's all fine!!!)

if you spam the band tag with anything not-band related, i may block you, cause i'm a tired senior citizen that yells at a cloud (that goes for some screenshots from games with just lyrics added, fanfiction about ships i don't care for etc. etc.)

same goes for spoiling the band's identities, obviously

not a fan of fanfiction/headcanons about real people either! (not gonna block blogs for that, only tags)

and of course, if you're a terf or other kind of a twat, you get a block too as soon as i realise you're trash <3

i'm ace, so thirsting about the band usually makes me uncomfortable (i'm not against it!! that would be hypocritical, considering one of their main topics is sex. it's just, you know. an ace thing. being ok with sex as a concept, but not when it's being said online about real people. hard to explain that, sorry. then again sometimes i don't mind some tits out jokes etc., depends on a mood)

main acc is @hajstra. i don't talk there much

uhhh, that's all, thank you

oh btw, i forgot to add: i don't have any tagging system, cause i'm a messy and chaotic person and any attempts at changing that went to shit. if you want me to tag something, please do not hesitate to contact me! there are two tags that i'm quite consistent with tho:

#sleep token't (courtesy of @moonchild-in-blue's amazing idea for a tag for non-ST related posts)

and my art tag, #alex vs the mortifying ordeal of having her art perceived

(which is a terribly long bitch, come to think of it, but i'm too lazy to change it now tbh)

[melodraca]

your oc tag intrigues me

can I have some fun facts about kade I see that name a lot and kade seems great

sorry am awkward

Don't worry, you don't seem awkward at all! ^_^ But oh my gosh, I'm going to apologize in advance, because seeing an ask about any of my ocs makes me really happy and I may or may not start rambling a bit. Bear with me here...

Fun facts about Kade:

He's a character from a roleplay between me and my friend

We actually both agreed that he's our favorite character

He's bi

Kade started out in 2015 as a slightly humorous antagonist who was supposed to show up for one plot arc and then disappear forever

We liked him too much, so we brought him back as a side character with a redemption arc

We then liked him SO much that he became a main character

(He was a diamond amongst the trash of our terrible old writing)

He was kinda toxic, kinda manipulative, but also so cringe and sexy, he captivated us

He's like 6'5"+. A beanpole

He's one of our most intelligent characters

I wouldn't say he's got low wisdom necessarily, but his sense of humor is really dumb

He laughs at his own jokes

The first thing he did after being introduced was unsuccessfully attempt to make the lives of everyone around him worse (he didn't have a clear motivation for this)

He loves his cool, scary wife so so much

He started out as a part of a gang, which was initially supposed to add to his ~villainous intimidation factor~ but he was so universally disliked by this gang that it was just kind of sad

He attempted to leave and somehow ended up in an infinitely worse situation (mafia-esque crime organization)

The first thing he did in this organization was form a codepedant relationship with the boss's equally touch-starved and closeted son (Nic)

Their relationship is healthier now, but for a while they both sucked so much. They enabled each others issues, and Kade loved to make Nic mad on purpose

He's polyam, and he's been collecting partners like pokemon cards

His partners have a groupchat that they didn't let him join

He was crushing on his cool, scary wife (Mian) for almost a decade, but she was his bestie and he didn't want to ruin that in case she didn't feel the same way (she did, but the whole time she thought that she just REALLY liked him as a friend)

Still unironically says "epic" (me too)

He had so many vices and issues <3 he still has so many issues

I'm pretty sure he questioned his gender at one point, and he came to the conclusion that he was still cis, but in an Ascended kind of way

He's in his 40s by this point

He has kids, he's genuinely really sweet with them (also collects them like pokemon cards; most of them are adopted. He's not the step dad, he's the dad that stepped up)

Deals with gut-wrenching trauma :(

He almost caused a divorce because a bromance with one of his best friends (Tsubasa) got a little bit too gay

"He has a very punchable face," - a comment I once got on a drawing of him vaping

He has his stupid spiked collar insured

Ate a cigarette more than once

I think we canonized him being autistic shortly after I realized I was autistic, because too many things made a LOT of sense retrospectively

During his wedding vows, he asked the audience to give him a "hell yeah."

I imagine that he smells very subtly like weed and drugstore cologne

He went through a lot of personal growth. Had some issues with toxic masculinity, now he respects women soooo much

He has a special interest in horror films/shows/books/etc. He also just likes film in general

His other thing is math, and all of his partners hate it

I just think he's really neat :)

That's all I can think of off the top of my head rn 💀 but thank you again so much for asking!

Art by swagamicchi on twitter, me (old art, but I haven't drawn a lot recently. rip.), and frozenspoots on twitter