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hargreeves-duncan · 1 month

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I saw your requests were open and because I'm very hurt/comfort I would like reader to be fives spouse and then the subway happens like the after of everyone learning about it at the house and having to bring up what happened with not only Diego but us as well who thought we [Five and spouse] were happy??? Immaculate. Also I hope you're doing well stay hydrated!

a/n: thank you so much for your request, i am super hydrated, thank you :)) i really loved writing this (even if it is a little angsty) and i hope you love it just as much

summary: you thought you were happy together - if only you knew how wrong you were.

warnings: mentions of canon compliant violence, cheating (obviously), lila x five😬

word count: 2.1k

pt. 2

Christmas Eve would always be a time of joy and merriment for many, and the same had been true for you for all of your life. Even when you’d spent a few decades working as a trained killer for The Commission, the holidays were always a normality and a comfort that you could fall back on, without fail. In between snapping necks and pulling triggers, you’d seen the snow covered hills of Lapland and the warm festivities of Munich’s Christmas Markets and now that you were retired, you could enjoy it all with your family.

The family that your husband, Five, had brought you into. Whilst there was some initial shock from the Hargreeves’ siblings as they found out that not only had their brother aged forty-five years without them on a post-apocalyptic Earth but that he had actually gotten engaged in that time, slowly but surely, they had let you in. They were chaotic, at the best of times, but you loved them all the same and you knew that you’d do anything to protect them now. They were your family, just as much as Five was.

You’d met Five at the commission, when he was worn down by a lengthy four decades of solidarity and you’d pieced him back together. You’d shown him that living wasn’t just a means to an end and that it could be good and loving. You’d joked at the time how silly it was, that the two of you had found love at an organisation designed to kill, for the most part, innocent people. He’d said he’d do it a thousand times over if it meant he’d get to you.

After spending the last few years trying and failing to stop the apocalypse, you weren’t quite those people anymore. Instead, you had grown and evolved but you’d never had the luxury of waiting around for the two of you to settle down and retire like you’d both hoped for. So, when you’d come to this timeline, Five powerless, you hadn’t looked back. You’d gotten married, whilst you knew you still could and you’d lived the last six years in bliss. Five had softened now that there wasn’t the weight of impending doom on his back and you both got to be enveloped in the love you’d worked so hard for without consequence.

Tonight, you had gone over to Diego and Lila’s place to spend the evening with your extended family. At some point in the evening, Five and Lila had reappeared from whatever they’d spent the day doing and since he’d got back, Five had been unsettled. His eyes kept flickering over to Diego and Lila, constantly. He looked seething. Your husband had never been one for public displays of affection and Diego’s increasingly wandering hands must’ve been beginning to anger him, you thought. Five frowned, how was he supposed to enjoy his evening with that sitting across from him?

Noticing his restlessness, you slipped your hand over his comfortingly, feeling the cool metal of his wedding ring slide over your palm, “You okay?”

Five glanced back at you. He cleared his throat and nodded, smiling gently at you, “I’m alright, love.”

Occasionally, Lila would look over at him. She looked shy and timid under Diego’s touch, a look you’d never seen on her before. Lila’s love had always been performative and outlandish. Her affection was everywhere and to see her look so strained in his company was strange. It was entirely foreign to watch it play out and it didn’t match the Lila Hargreeves you’d come to know. Diego noticed too.

Even Luther noticed the tension in the room. He watched as Five rolled his shoulders for the hundredth evening, “What is with you tonight? You’ve barely said a word, Five, when does that ever happen?”

So, it wasn’t just you then? You thought to yourself. A ball of anxiety began to develop in your stomach. You searched Five’s face for the root of the problem. Five sighed and adjusted himself, “It’s called thinking, Luther. You should try it sometime.”

A flurry of shock and distaste shot up from everyone as he said that and you shrank slightly in your seat. Five bristled as you got closer. You frowned.

“I do think, I think you’re an asshole.” Luther clapped back, pouting as he leaned back against the couch. At this moment, you happened to agree. Five didn’t brush you away, physically, but he kept his eyes forward, anywhere but down at you. You felt dread in the pit of your stomach.

Five continued to avoid your gaze as Allison sighed, brushing her hair from her face, “Okay, can we not do this right now?” Her eyes drifted pointedly to Claire, Grace and the twins in the corner of the room, happily occupying themselves with toys and the tv which displayed a graceful ballerina one of the girls was currently trying to imitate.

“No, let’s. Let’s do this now.” Five said, smiling bitterly at her as he stood from the couch and dropped your hand.

You sighed, sitting forward, “Five-”

“Five, it’s gonna be okay.” Lila interrupted, smiling reassuringly from where she sat. Your head swivelled around to her, in time with Diego’s, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Before you had the chance to question Lila, Five smiled sarcastically at you all, moving his hand to cut her off, “No, it’s not gonna be okay.”

Diego shot from his seat, chuckling, “Hey, come on, man. Don’t talk to my wife like that. Not tonight. Not on Christmas.”

Five squares up to him, broadening his shoulders and raising his eyebrows at his brother, “You going to do something about it, fuckface?”

An uproar of protests from all of the others. Your eyes widen as things begin to escalate and you stand up, reaching for his arm, “Five!”

He glances back at you. Diego scoffs and steps closer, prodding Five’s chest, “Yeah, I’m gonna K-I-C-K your A-S-S, man.”

“Oh wow, somebody’s passed the first grade.” Five says sarcastically, still not backing down.

“Five.” You say again, more forcefully as you step up to them. Lila gets up and steps between them, putting her hands on each of their chests and pushing them away from one another. Your eyes flare as you watch her fingers skim Five’s chest. They follow her hand up to her wrist and-

“What is that?” You ask, reaching for her wrist. A silver bracelet, woven like vines, dangles from her arm. You roll your sleeve back, looking at your own bracelet. The one that Five had given you on some anniversary or other, he’d had it made especially for you - strung together with gold, because silver was too trivial for someone like you, he’d said.

The bracelet felt trivial altogether as you looked at its pattern now, beside Lila’s - practically identical to your own. Cheaper, yes, but still like yours, “What’s what?” Lila asked innocently, taking her wrist back.

“That thing on your wrist.” Diego’s eyebrows furrow as he takes Lila’s wrist and he glances between your wrist and Lila’s, “You hate bracelets. You traded the one that I got you for Valentine’s last year to the pawn shop. What…”

“Where did you get it?” You demand, looking her in the eye with a determination that you haven’t felt in years. Lila stands there guiltily, leaning in Five’s direction and your heart sinks. Diego watches, the dots connecting in his mind.

“Did you give her that?” He asks, stepping closer to Five. Lila reaches out for him and he shrugs her off, “No, answer the question, Five. Did you give her that?”

“I made it.” Five answers, hands slipping into his pockets. He’s casual, as if it means nothing, and that only makes it hurt so much more because if this gift to Lila means nothing, then you must mean even less.

“You made it… for her?” You say, hurt and grief for the life you’ve had together seeping into your voice. And just when you think he can’t get any more cruel…

“Who does it look like I made it for?” He says, looking over at you, and your heart shrivels up painfully. A dull ache blooms in your chest and you can’t even form a response because he’s being so cutting and it’s something you’ve never had from him before.

Diego steps up, pressing a hand to your arm and giving it a gentle squeeze as he pushes you back. He takes a breath and looks between Lila and Five, biting his lip, “Is there something going on between you two?”

The two stare silently for a moment and Lila’s voice grows soft as she looks at her husband, “Diego-”

Diego holds his hands up and turns away, “Holy shit… Holy shit, I was right!” He says, pointing at them both, his voice a mix of anger and disappointment in the people he’d trusted.

“Book club, a- all this time, you- you were cheating on me with…” He can’t even get the words out properly as he looks at them, his stutter resurfacing as his emotions get the better of him. He looks over at you, your eyes widen further, if that’s even possible as you realise things for yourself.

“Oh my god… oh my god, I am a complete and utter fool.” You say, laughing in shock as you mentally take a step back from the last few months.

This is what you got for letting your guard down, you supposed, “I can’t believe you… why did I never… you were never doing research, were you? You were off with her.”

“Now, just wait-” Five starts, holding his hands up and trying to approach you at the same time that Lila says, “No, we weren’t cheating on you. At least, not when you thought we were…”

“What? What is that supposed to mean?” You ask, scoffing and folding your arms over your chest.

“It means that, for us, it’s been seven years. I blinked us to the subway and we got stuck down there.” Five said, stepping forward.

“Please, tell me you’re joking.” You say, shoulders dropping as your heart clenches, all of your defences falling.

“Love, I wish I was.” He says tenderly, stepping closer to you again. He takes a deep breath, “We were lost for seven years, Y/N.”

Seven years. He’d spent almost as much time with her as he had with you. Were you really that disposable? You’d thought that things were good between the two of you, great even, but the moment he’d been out of your sights, he’d done this…

Breaking down, you sit back on the couch, putting your head in your hands as you blink back tears. Five sighs, sitting beside you, “We went through a lot of timelines and I promise, I never stopped trying to get home, you know I never would, but… I got tired. Tired of failing over and over and I had to stop.”

“I wouldn’t have given up.” You say, drying your eyes as you look up at him again. Five smiles tiredly, shaking his head.

“You can’t know that.” He says, looking over at you. His eyes are soft, but it doesn’t stop the harsh sting of what he says.

“I can, because I love you, it’s as simple as that.” You protest, looking at him brokenly, “You wouldn’t have stopped looking if you loved me the way that I love you.”

He rubs his thumb over his clenched knuckles, sighing, “Don’t say that. You know that I love you.”

“Of course. And her? What about Lila? Do you love her too?” You challenge, eyes flitting over every pore in his face, seeking an answer or an apology, anything that isn’t going to confirm what you so deeply fear; that he doesn’t love you anymore.

Lila perks up from where she’s standing beside Diego. Diego’s face drops and all either of you can do is watch as your partners lock eyes with one another instead of you. Five sighs, glancing back at you, “Y/N, now is really not the time for-”

“Do you love her?” You ask again.

He glances between the two of you and sighs again. It feels like that’s all he’s capable of doing right now, sighing. You want to scream or yell or cry because that isn’t fair, he doesn’t get to be frustrated or hurt when this is his fault and you shouldn’t be feeling bad for him when he looks so defeated but you just can’t help it because it’s Five, your Five, and you’ve never known anything else but wanting what’s best for him.

He parts his lips, about to speak, before Claire interrupts from where she’s sat on the floor, “Hey, grown-ups! Look at the TV! Isn’t that Uncle Ben?”

Five stands up to look with the other Hargreeves and you steady yourself. This is okay, you think, you can let things go on as normal. Just for a little longer.

#fanfic #fanfiction #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #request #anon

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sage-nebula · 24 days

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Thinking about how important it is that Wendy is a part of the Pines family. (Because she is, as much as Soos is. It's why she's in the family photos, such as the one representing Ford's happiness at the end of The Book of Bill.)

We don't know too much about Wendy's home / family life. Unfortunately, we don't a single Wendy-focused episode, and we don't get to learn too much about her outside of how she interacts with the main characters. But here is what we do know:

Wendy is the oldest of four siblings, with three little brothers. Wendy herself is 15. We are never given ages for her brothers, but given the photo that she shows Dipper of her younger self in "Double Dipper", I'm guesstimating that the youngest Corduroy brother (Gus) is about 6 in the present day. This is because young!Wendy was wearing braces and also noted to be "freakishly tall" for her age, and Gus was wearing a diaper in the photo (but standing on his own). Braces can take two to three years to be removed, and Wendy doesn't have them in the present day, meaning she was probably around 11 or 12 in the photo. Meanwhile, Gus was in a diaper but able to stand, meaning he was probably a toddler, likely around 2. So in the present day, Wendy is 15, Gus is around 6 (depending on if Wendy was 11 or 12 in the photo), and Marcus and Kevin (the middle brothers) are between 14 and 7.

Wendy's mother died when she was young. Given the age of Gus in the photo, we can estimate that Wendy's mother died when Wendy was, at youngest, 11 or 12 -- so, three or four years pre-canon. (Because any earlier than that and Gus couldn't have been born.)

Wendy's father is Manly Dan, who shouts just about every line of dialogue he has and routinely breaks things, including in his own house, albeit sometimes by accident. He also spends most of his time in a biker bar, though we do know that he does love his children. (e.g. is seen with the boys on both family fishing day and Summerween, is seen taking Wendy out for breakfast in "Dipper vs. Manliness").

Dan is the reason why Wendy has a summer job. As she says in "Gideon Rises", "If I can't work at the Shack, my dad's gonna force me to work at my cousin's logging camp up north." This implies that Wendy has to work somewhere, per a rule of Dan's.

In "Into the Bunker", Wendy has this to say when she comments on how she's excited to be going on an adventure with Dipper and Mabel: "It beats cleaning up after my dad at home." She says this with a frown, in a grousing tone. We're then treated to a clip of Dan breaking apart the cabin as mentioned above.

In "Society of the Blind Eye", before she's about to have her memories erased, Wendy confesses thus: "I'm stressed like 24/7. Have you MET my family?"

Wendy dreams about her mother every night. The glimpse of her dream that we're shown depicts her receiving a comforting hug from her mother.

The conclusions that I draw from the above are thus: prior to her mother's death, Wendy had what amounts to a normal family life in Gravity Falls. The Corduroys were a two parent household, her mother was there to help balance Dan out and raise the kids (Wendy included), and Wendy could, well . . . be a kid. It's possible, even, that some of Dan's more worrying traits (such as spending the majority of his time at a bar) didn't exist when Wendy's mom is alive. It's pure speculation on my part, but it's possible that Dan feels compelled to go to a bar to be aggressive (and drink, even if we don't see it because it's a kid's show) because that's how he processes his grief over his wife's death, away from his children's eyes and ears. He's trying to be a responsible father and not hurt his kids, while at the same time still not handling things in the most healthy way.

But back to Wendy. Once Wendy's mother died, the dynamic in the Corduroy household shifted. Dan was hit by the tidal wave of grief that comes with losing a spouse, as well as the sudden onslaught of being a single father to four children, one of whom was very possibly still in diapers. And if my speculation is correct and that he took to going to the bar to deal with his grief, then who is left to change Gus' diapers and get him potty trained? To operate the stove or oven or microwave to make sure that the boys (who would all be under age 10 at this point) got fed, and to make sure she got fed herself? To, in her own words, "clean up [her] dad's messes" when he was at home to make them by breaking apart the house with his own head?

Wendy.

Wendy was a child herself when her mother died, but she was the oldest child, potentially freshly into middle school while the boys were still in elementary, and the oldest daughter to boot. The girl, expected to know how to do "girl things" like cook and clean. I'm not saying that Dan told her to do these things, but we know from Wendy's personality that she is protective of those who need it (e.g. Dipper and Mabel) and, more importantly, that's her home and her family, and she does love them (she makes this clear in the Weirdmageddon episodes numerous times). She wouldn't let her little brothers starve, wouldn't let her youngest sit in a filthy diaper, would try to pick up the house if her dad and brothers wouldn't. Wendy would step up to do it out of necessity, even if she hated it and felt stressed out about it, especially while also feeling the crushing grief that comes with having lost her mother.

So Wendy, having lost her mother at a young age, probably had to step up into a pseudo-parental role in her own house, trying her best to fill the void that was left by her mother's passing even though she was only a child herself. And this is why she's "stressed, like, 24/7." Because not only are her father and brothers loud and chaotic (especially with Dan raising the boys into miniature versions of him), but because it's her responsibility (spoken or no) to keep the house in as much order as she can. It's little wonder that, outside of the movie that she and Dipper are watching in the beginning of "Into the Bunker", Wendy seems to spend as little time as possible in her own home.

So, how does this fit into it being important for Wendy to be part of the Pines family? Or, worded in a better way, why it's so important that she has the Pines as a second family, and the Mystery Shack as a second home?

As I said above, once Wendy's mother died, her ability to be a child in her own home effectively ended. Again, to make it clear, Wendy doesn't hate her family. In fact, it's the opposite; the Weirdmageddon episodes make it clear that she still loves her father and her brothers very much. But "Society of the Blind Eye" also makes it clear that they stress her out. She has a lot of complicated feelings, something that's understandable given her complicated situation.

But because she has to help keep the house together when she's at home, that means she can only really be a kid (or teenager, as the case may be) when she's outside of it. She has a lot of fun doing this with her friends, but sometimes a teen does need a home to relax in. And for Wendy, that home is the Mystery Shack -- and yes, that includes when she's on the clock.

Now, I know what you may be thinking: it's stated that Stan is a terrible boss, that he barks orders, that he yells -- how is that any different from her father? Well, I'll tell you how: the only time we actually see this is in "Boss Mabel", in which Stan being a boss who yells and barks orders at his employees is a plot point meant to create the conflict for the episode. Otherwise, we never really see Stan being an awful boss, and in particular we never see him being hard on Wendy. In fact, I would argue we see the opposite.

Here are things we know about Wendy's behavior at work, and Stan's response to her behavior at work:

Wendy constantly reads magazines while working the cash register, often right in front of Stan. Stan never tells her to put the magazine away.

Wendy often puts her feet up on the counter. Stan never tells her to take her feet off the counter.

Wendy goes up to the roof "all the time, every day" to the point where she has a chair and cooler up there. ("The Inconveniencing"). We don't know if Stan knows about this or not, but it's hard to believe he wouldn't if Wendy goes up there as much as she says she does.

When Stan told her to hang signs up out in the woods, she said, "I would, but I can't . . . reach . . ." while making no effort to get up to get the sign, and not removing her eyes from the magazine or her feet from the counter. Stan simply said, "I'd fire [. . .] you if I could." i.e. she got away with it 100%. ("Tourist Trapped")

When Stan double checks with Wendy and Soos that they'll wash the bathrooms while he's gone, Wendy says, "absolutely not" with a salute. Stan laughs and then says to stay out of trouble, not caring at all. ("The Inconveniencing")

Wendy was supposed to work the ticket stand all night at the party. She quit about ten minutes in and blatantly joined the party. Stan had to have seen her. He did nothing. ("Double Dipper")

Wendy claims in "Boss Mabel" that Stan doesn't let her have friends at work. In contrast, we see Robbie visit her at work all the time throughout their relationship (e.g. "Fight Fighters", "Boyz Crazy"), and Stan even comments on "is that the guy that's always making googly eyes at Wendy?" but otherwise has no problem with it. So again, it was a conflict invented for "Boss Mabel" that otherwise doesn't exist.

And that is just off the top of my head. The point is, Wendy is perhaps treated the easiest of the staff at the Mystery Shack. She's blatantly lazy and snarky and the most Stan ever does is grouse that he would "fire [her] if he could."

And this is a good thing.

The Mystery Shack, even if when she's on the clock, is clearly a place where Wendy can relax. It's somewhere she feels comfortable, rather than stressed. Yes, she's working -- but she's putting in the barest minimum effort because the stakes are the lowest they could possibly be. Because even though Stan grouses and complains about how little she cares, he won't fire her. He says he can't, but let's be honest, he could. One could argue that he'd be out a cashier, but he already is when the school year starts and Wendy has to go back to school. The Shack doesn't close down then, so it wouldn't close now if he fired Wendy.

But he won't fire her, because he knows that if he did, she'd be sent up north to her cousin's logging camp, a job she would hate and that would add on to the stress she already has from her home life. Stan has been in Gravity Falls for 30 years; he's been there since before Wendy was born. He knew her mother. He remembers when her mother died a few years ago. He probably saw how Dan's personality changed, how Wendy's personality changed from a more carefree little girl to a little girl who had to act more carefree than she actually was because she won't ever dare let anyone know she's anything but tough as nails, kinda like the guy he sees when he looks in the mirror. So he'll grouse at her about her laziness, and she'll complain about how much she hates having to work, but he'll also never hire another cashier even during the school year when the Shack maybe could use the extra help, and she knows that he both has an orthopedic back pillow and where it's kept, and that's as much as either of them will say about it. (Source for the orthopedic back pillow: "Soos and the Real Girl").

Wendy spends time at the Shack that would otherwise be spent at her home. When she decides to leave Tambry's party early, she goes to hang out at the Shack and watch movies with Stan, before the twins or Soos arrive ("Summerween"). She's likewise hanging out with the Pines and Soos watching television despite work clearly being over in the beginning of "Dreamscaperers". Wendy can relax at the Shack, can be in a home environment where she has no responsibilities, where she can simply be a teenager without also having to be a pseudo-parent. She can be a big sister figure to Dipper and Mabel without the added responsibilities of having to make sure they're fed and brought up right. She can be snarky with Stan, and he'll be snarky back, and there are no risks or consequences at all.

It's important that Wendy is a member of the Pines family, because here there are no complications for her. She loves her original family, but things got difficult when her mother died, and they won't ever stop being difficult. But things aren't difficult with the Pines. In a way, being with the Pines is as comfortable as the hugs she gets from her mother in her dreams every night. Being with the Pines feels right. It feels safe.

It's good that Wendy has them. It's important that Wendy has them. And fortunately, she always will.

#gravity falls #wendy corduroy #pines family #stanley pines #manly dan #corduroy family #again none of this was meant as an indictment of dan or Wendy's family #she does love them and i think dan does do his best #but going on how these things often end up IRL plus things Wendy says #i just think this is all likely #plus with how much time Wendy spends with the Pines #and how much Stan lets her get away with as well #(which is a good thing to be clear lmao i love it)#anyway

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aphroditelovesu · 9 months

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Yandere Viserys I Targaryen w/Second Wife!Reader Headcanons (Romantic)

❝ 🐉 — lady l: Happy New Year!!! First headcanons of the year and I hope you like it. I hope you have a great year, good things come to you and good reading! Forgive me for any mistakes ❤️✨️.

❝tw: unspecified age gap, overprotection, not compatible with canon and Reader is the mother of Aegon, Helaena, Daeron and Aemond.

❝🐉pairing: yandere!viserys i targaryen x female!reader.

Viserys never wanted to remarry after the death of his beloved Aemma. The idea of replacing her with another woman made him sick. He didn't want to get married again, but he was the King and he had his obligations to the Realm. To have a strong bloodline and strengthen the House Targaryen.

Although he didn't like the idea, Viserys after a period of time began looking for a potential bride. He received several powerful offers, such as the Velaryon and the Hightower, but he did not feel comfortable marrying Lady Laena or Lady Alicent.

So he kept looking and that's how he met you. An attractive young woman, but older than the last ones, and from a house powerful enough to provide strength to the Realm. Viserys was immediately attracted to you and knew he wanted to marry you.

The preparations were made quickly and well, Viserys was excited to be able to call you his wife, but in the days before the wedding, he spent time by your side, getting to know you better.

With that, Viserys found out as much as he could about you, about your childhood, your family, and your likes and dislikes. He was more than pleased, especially seeing that you were as interested in history as he was.

Rhaenyra also liked you, although she was apprehensive about the idea of a stepmother, about the possibility of you providing a male heir, she liked you. You were kind to her and assured her that even if you have a son, you will not try to replace her on the Throne.

When you became the second wife of Viserys, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, he was already in love. Much faster than he would like to admit, Viserys was already in your domain and became yours even sooner than anticipated. At first, he felt guilty, guilty that he might be betraying Aemma's memory, but quickly, those thoughts went away. Aemma was dead and you were alive.

Viserys was more than happy to see that you and his daughter were getting along, it made him feel relieved inside. He couldn't wait to have children with you, to grow his family. When he learned of your first pregnancy, Viserys almost cried with happiness, but there was concern. What if you died during childbirth? He couldn't take another loss, couldn't lose you.

You were very much in love with each other, you had learned to love your husband and he was deeply in love with you. Your mannerisms, your personality, everything enchanted him. Your favorite moments together were when you talked about history, whether it was your House or House Targaryen. Viserys cherished every moment, every smile and look shared.

When you gave birth to a healthy son, Aegon, Viserys was very happy, not only because he had a son, but because you were alive and the birth was peaceful. The next pregnancies were no different, with Helaena, Daeron and Aemond.

You assured him, assure Rhaenyra, that you would not let Aegon usurp or anything like that happen when it was time for Rhaenyra to take the Throne. You adored your stepdaughter and she adored you too, seeing you as a second mother. Viserys would never admit it, but if you asked, he would name Aegon his heir if that was your wish. This shows how much he is in love with you.

You tried your best to fulfill your duties as Queen, mother and wife as best you could, discouraging any possible rivalry the children might have and reassuring your support for Viserys and your stepdaughter. Your main priority was to avoid a war. You presided over the Small Council, advising your husband as best you could.

You hold all power over Viserys, it soon became clear to everyone who really ruled the Seven Kingdoms. You could ask for anything, from the most insignificant to the most absurd thing, and Viserys would fulfill it instantly.

He is extremely overprotective, Viserys fears losing you more than anything and every time you have an entire armada comes out after you. When you are sick, he sends the best maesters to take care of you and will not leave your side until you get better.

If something were to happen to you or one of your children, may the gods be good. Viserys tries his best to avoid war and resolve any conflict with diplomacy, but all that changes when it comes to you. Any insult to you is like an insult to him and any way of hurting you will not be taken lightly.

No matter how peaceful he is, no matter how calm and rational, Viserys is still a Targaryen, a dragon and you should never mess with one of them if they don't want to get burn. Not only will you have your overprotective husband by your side, but also your children who love you deeply and will do anything for you.

You are not Aemma's replacement and Viserys doesn't think so. He thinks of you as yourself and loves you for it. He will always love Aemma, but he loves you in a different way. A more overprotective and possessive way. He can't lose you and he won't.

#hotd #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #asoiaf #house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #yandere asoiaf #asoiaf x reader #yandere Viserys I Targaryen #yandere Viserys I Targaryen x reader #yandere Viserys I Targaryen Headcanons #headcanons #yandere headcanons #viserys i targaryen x reader #Viserys targaryen x reader #yandere viserys targaryen #yandere Viserys targaryen x reader #yandere a song of ice and fire

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ladyofrosefire · 8 days

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fuck it, bg3 companions shower routine

Shadowheart: Shar hates self-care, but a Shadowheart does take pride in her hair, and a Shadowheart who has learned to be kind to herself can indulge. Long, complicated hair routine, very specific water temperature, and a tendency toward long-ass depression showers. LOVES a bubble bath and will make a whole event of it with flower petals and candles just for her. Will bring a book with a little book tray and a glass of wine.

Astarion: Similarly complicated hair routine. Gotta hydrate the curls, and being dead does not do nice things to your hair. Less prone to standing there staring at nothing while the horrors set in, but prone to scrubbing too hard. Similarly fond of a bubble bath, although without the book or flowers, although he will fuck with an essential oil heater and likes to make his own blends.

Lae'zel: Queen of the 4 minute shower. She has been accused of not even waiting for the water to heat up, but she likes it blistering. Does not actually use 3-in-1, thank you. Having fairly short hair helps. She finds the other companions baffling. Would get bored in a bubble bath unless she had company (rubber duck counts).

Wyll: Sings. If someone called him on it, he would be embarrassed, the first time, for about a minute. Neither wildly efficient nor inclined to standing there for ages and ages and prefers to shower in the morning. Washing his hair is a chance to relax and take care of himself, although before he has his family back, it can be a bit melancholy. He has fallen asleep in the bath before. I feel like he'd love a bath bomb and he'd love the full romantic evening with candles and flowers and music.

Karlach: Please, please someone boil her. Once she gets her engine fixed all the way, she tries a cold shower just to remember what it feels like and keeps up a running commentary about how much it sucks while also not turning up the temperature. Absolutely loves sharing a shower with someone and will also sing. Should not attempt her little jig on wet tiles. May try anyway. Someone should introduce her to proper hair/skin care because if anyone is using 3-in-1, I'm sorry, it's Karlach. Genuinely cannot sit still for a bubble bath unless she has company to cuddle.

Gale: Voted Faerun's Most Likely to Relitigate Arguments in the Shower, Even if He Won Originally. Loves to pamper himself, canonically, loves a spa day, also canonically. You simply are not getting the bathroom back for a good hour, although not all that time involves running water. Plays around with different products and researches the living hell out of everything. Loves a long soak. The only person with a feline in their house to ever bathe in peace. Constantly torn between wanting a book with him when he has a bath and not wanting to get the pages steamy and damp, much less actually wet.

Minthara: Her ideal hair wash involves someone else doing it for her while also having the utmost certainty that the person will not attempt to murder her. If her partner washes her hair for her, she turns into a puddle. She has an incredibly specific lineup of products. If she shares, understand that she has bestowed upon you a great gift. More about bath salts than bubbles and could be persuaded to a sufficiently elegant bath bomb (it would not be a difficult check).

Halsin: Low-flow showerhead user. Hell, he might be the kind of person to turn the water off entirely when not soaking/rinsing out his hair... However, he is not immune to the "shower together to save water" line even though he KNOWS it doesn't work that way. He needs low-scent soaps/etc considering his heightened sense of smell. And listen, this man does not fit in a bathtub unless he goes somewhere special or finds a particularly large one. He made everyone floaty ducks, properly sealed against water damage, and he has one for himself that holds his soap.

Jaheira: Understands that having a chair in the shower is just being kind to yourself and proceeds accordingly. Will revisit arguments she had that day, but despite that has a quick and fairly simple routine. She needs the water pressure to pound the everloving hell out of her back. Loofa on a stick user. Like Wyll, she has fallen asleep in a bathtub, in part thanks to having and using a bath cushion. Truly, the expert on bath-based comfort.

Minsc: Also sings in the shower. LOUDLY. Boo is allowed to sit a shelf out of the way. The best way to get him to use lotion is to give him something that smells yummy. He has similar problems to Halsin regarding fitting in bathtubs. He tries anyway. He has been banned from at least one hotspring for doing a cannonball.

#text #bg3 #wyll ravengard #Shadowheart #Astarion #Karlach #Lae'zel #Jaheira #Minsc #Minthara #Halsin #Wyll #tadfools

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professorcalculusstanaccount · 11 months

Photo

People have been asking for a Chang timeline post! Chang not only represents a turning point in the politics of the Tintin series, he also represents a sense of chronology in the otherwise floating timeline of the canon. While Tintin almost never discusses his past, Chang is a key part of his personal story in Tintin in Tibet.

I imagine him and Tintin being around the same age, with Chang being a few months younger.

Child - Chang had a happy early childhood being raised by his father and grandparents. He never mentions his mother when recounting his backstory to Tintin, so my main guesses are she either passed away or his parents separated before Chang was old enough to remember her. His father and grandparents taught him how to cook from an early age, and taught him the importance of solidarity and community, lessons Chang will hold onto the rest of his life.

Early canon - Chang is orphaned. This sudden loss causes him to act out. He turns to picking pockets and causing general mischief until an orphanage takes him in. Chang learns a lot of skills just to survive - he’s stealthy, he’s street smart and pretty decent at climbing. His experiences as a street kid taught him to be wary of authority.

The orphanage provides a brief period of stability until it is swept away in a flood. Until this point, Chang has felt pretty powerless in his life so just goes with the flow, so when Tintin drags him out of a river he doesn’t think twice about going along with him to break up a drug ring in The Blue Lotus. Going on this adventure with Tintin imbues him with a sense of empowerment and purpose he never felt before.

Student - The Wangs adopt him pretty quickly after he busts the drug ring with Tintin. It’s a sudden change he struggles to adapt to, with the Wangs being wealthy academics and Chang coming from a working class background there’s a significant culture clash.

Tintin leaves just as quickly and rarely contacts Chang, even as his journalism career takes off, leaving Chang lonely and heartbroken. Chang tries to send him letters but doesn’t know that Tintin moved out of Labrador Road.

Having missed out on education for a bit Chang struggles with school. He feels unworthy of the opportunities the Wangs try to provide him with and a part of him feels they only adopted him because they were dazzled by him taking down that drug ring, an achievement he increasingly feels he will never live up to again. He struggles with mental health issues, but finds solace in photography, his portfolio getting him a place at university despite his bad grades.

Young adult - In an attempt to try and help Chang’s mental wellbeing the Wangs decide to send Chang off to visit his uncles before he starts university, only for Chang to nearly perish in a plane crash in Tibet. Ironically, it’s this near death experience that shakes him out of it. Chang has a renewed enthusiasm for life, taking to travelling, dance and photography. Didi trains him in some basic martial arts so Chang can fend for himself.

Tintin makes an effort to stay in touch after having nearly lost Chang. The two repair their friendship, and Tintin has him stay at Marlinspike when Chang studies in Belgium for his second year of university. By the time Chang comes around, he’s had a growth spurt and has been working out - Chang is pretty haunted by his skeletal state from his near death experience in Tibet, so has been making an effort to recover.

After helping Tintin with a case, Tintin gets him a job at his paper as his photographer. Being Chinese he faces challenges in the workplace, and he uses his charm to be as personable as possible. Unlike Tintin, he frequents quite a few staff parties, and ends up pretty popular!

A couple of years later, Chang tries to unionise the staff at the paper. He and Tintin are outed as a couple and the two of them are fired.

Middle aged - After fighting fascists with the Marlinspike team during WW2 Chang and Tintin settle down in Belgium, with Chang scraping out some freelance photography work and a part time job at a portraiture studio. War in China causes them to lose contact with his adopted family.

While Tintin grows more cynical, Chang accepts the chaos of the world and mellows out a lot. He tries to be a supportive partner and makes extra effort to stay in touch with his uncles and cousins.

Elderly - Chang uses his skills in photojournalism when he gets involved in political activism. He and Tintin are finally able to reunite with Didi and his children in the 70s.

#fanart #tintin #adventures of tintin #chang #photoset #headcanon #historical fashion #death mention #homophobia mention #racism mention #my favourite design by far is the elderly one lol #look at the bumbag #look at the colourblock jacket #tinchang

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urhoneycombwitch · 7 months

Text

imagine being loved by me

🍯 honey flavour: your love has stood the test of time, thus far, but a party fit for a rockstar brings up some bitter emotions.

🐝 the bees: rockstar!Eddie x jealous!Reader

wc: 8k

cw: drugs and alcohol consumption, mentions of weight gain (eddie’s, in a positive manner), R has panic/anxiety attack, jealousy (talked about and resolved tho), softdom!Reader, softdom!Eddie, oral (E and R receiving), R has breasts + a V and referred to with she/her pronouns, P in V sex, cumming inside w/out protection

foreword: timeline is wobbly and may not align perfectly w canon bc I’m bad at math so shhhh suspend ur disbelief. based on this anon thank you v much anon <3

___

It’s the coldest January Hawkins has seen in ages. Snow banks sit high on the roadsides, air thick with snowflakes, three-AM fog brought in courtesy of the bitter wind chill.

Under the yellow floodlight of a nearby streetlamp, your boyfriend is sucking down the last of a joint while you stamp your feet against the gravel parking lot.

“C’mon, Eddie,” you whine, crossing the arms of your fleeced puffer jacket, bouncing on your heels to keep the blood flowing. “My toes are gonna get frostbite.”

“A touch dramatic,” Eddie replies, unbothered. The cherry of the joint between his lips burns orange, casting a warm glow over Eddie’s cheekbones, the twinkle of snowflakes caught in his bangs. “I told you to go in without me, princess. Warmer in there.”

“Without you? As if.” You pull the pity card, and it works, ‘cuz it always does- that boy has got to learn how to say no to you, one of these days.

Not today, though, because Eddie is tamping out the ember on the sole of his boot and crunching up the snowy path to sling an arm around your neck.

“Grub time,” he says against your hair, pressing his cold lips to the side of your forehead as you both make your way into Benny’s Burgers.

The heated air is a welcome relief, and save for a couple of old-timers at a side table, you and Eddie are the only customers in the place.

Benny greets you both from where he’s flipping patties on the kitchen grill, waving a spatula at the corner booth- “All yours, kiddos. Want the usual?”

You and Eddie call out affirmatives as you sink into opposing seats, unwrapping yourselves from all your winter gear as you go.

“God bless Benny Hammond for expanding his night hours,” you say, piling your green scarf on the tabletop. “This is a good tradition for us, y’know. Post-band practice smoking and coffee- very rock and roll.”

“I concur.” Eddie tosses his knit hat at you playfully. “You, my lady, have the most rock ‘n roll soul I ever did see.”

As Benny approaches with two mugs of steaming coffee, you muse aloud, “Not sure if the amount of sugar you’re about to dump in your coffee is very metal, per se...”

“Y’hear that, Benny?” Eddie grabs a fistful of sugar packets and shakes them indignantly. “My girl’s trying to keep me on the straight and narrow. How’s a rockstar s’posed to live in these conditions?”

“Lord knows,” Benny says, sardonic, setting the mugs down and turning back to the kitchen.

Eddie winces as his hands wrap around the heat of the mug, and you notice right away. “Your fingers splitting again? I have that salve that you used last time, but it’s back at the trailer.”

He puts his hand face-up onto the table, and you slip yours into his, the deep fingertip grooves from guitar strings rough against your soft palm.

“I’ll live. Plus, it’s kind of metal, right?” Eddie runs a calloused thumb across the back of your hand.

You squeeze back, give him a wink. “Very metal.”

Eddie’s been working himself to the bone lately. Trying to stay in school and not drop out is a feat in itself, but compounded with the band practices that have only ramped up in length recently, it’s a lot to balance.

He hasn’t complained at all, of course. It’s not really in his nature.

In the past few weeks, however, he’s been imbued with this near-manic energy, a renewed sense of purpose. In between your own fitful sleeps you often wake in the early hours of the morning to find Eddie hunched over his desk, pen flying across his notebook as he reworks an old song or outlines a new one. Not that you weren’t proud of him before, but seeing him apply this newfound passion to his music has been a huge source of joy for you.

And, if you’re being really honest, also a major turn on. I mean, the boy’s got swagger like no other, and you’re so glad he’s finally utilizing it on stage. Even if that stage is in the middle of a piece of shit dive bar. Still counts, in your book.

Benny drops off baskets of hot fries, a burger for Eddie, and a BLT for you. Methodic and familiar, you offload half your fries to Eddie’s basket as he slides his burger towards you for the first bite.

After a few minutes of peaceful eating, Eddie balls up a napkin in his fist and raps the table with his knuckles. “So, uh. Kind of have some news.”

You slot the ketchup bottle back into its metal holder and look up with raised brows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He looks suddenly nervous, knee knocking into the underside of the table as he bounces his leg compulsively. “You remember Paige Warner? Graduated in ‘81, brother is a baseball jock?”

When you nod, Eddie blows out a breath- his unease is kind of setting you on edge.

“What about Paige Warner?” you prompt.

“She moved out to L.A. for a job and she’s working this scouting gig for some bigshot record,” he continues, absently pulling the thin napkin in his hands into pieces, staring vacantly at the mess. “And she wants Corroded Coffin to record and send out a demo to the label.”

As the news sinks in, your jaw drops. “Holy shit. What?”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s fidgeting with the paper scraps now, still not making eye contact with you. “She wants us to start recording next week. I haven’t told anyone else, yet, I wanted to make sure you were the first-”

You interrupt him with an excited little squeal (drawing glares from the old guys across the diner) and shove up from your side of the table to throw your arms around Eddie.

“Holy shit,” you repeat, laughing as Eddie pulls you into his lap- “Eddie, that’s amazing!”

“You think so?” he asks, your enthusiasm allowing his own to creep in; He slides his hands to your denim-clad hips, his self-professed favorite stress toy (well, tied for favorite with your thighs).

“How come you were so nervous to tell me?” You ask him, gently, tucking his dark hair behind his ears so you can see his face better. “Were you thinking I’d react differently?”

He looks up at you wide-eyed, shakes his head- “No, no, I wasn’t worried about you reacting a certain way. I just… I’m just worried about what this’ll mean. You know. For us.”

“Us?” You echo, encouraging him to continue.

Eddie squeezes at your hips, presses the crown of his head against your collarbone like he’s mustering up the courage to speak. “Yeah, us. I know L.A. isn’t your dream- shit, I don’t even know if it’s mine- but you didn’t sign up to go on the road like this. You’ve got college to consider, and-”

“So I’ll take a gap year,” you interrupt, putting a hand to his cheek to make him look at you again, and when he starts to protest, you talk over him. “No, Eddie, I’m serious. I don’t know what the hell I wanna do with my life yet anyways. Following my hot rockstar boyfriend to a new town sounds like a pretty good deal to me.”

He shakes his head again, and you can feel his dimples spring to life under your hand as he teases, “Gonna be my little groupie?”

“And more,” you confirm, giving him a kiss (chaste, so as not to invoke any more ire from the grumpy other customers) and sliding off his lap to return to your own seat. “I’ll be your assistant extraordinaire, if you want. Or bodyguard. Make sure none of the other groupie chicks get too close.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, fondly. “You’re the only groupie I need, sweetheart.”

Settling back into your respective seats, you both work on the last basket of fries while chatting genially about the future. Eddie mentions getting an apartment in Los Angeles, so there’s less of a commute, which branches the conversation into the logistics of a cross-country move, and then on to more important topics such as the alleged coolness of west-coast parties.

“Who’s your celebrity hall pass?” you ask, out of pure interest, dipping a fry into the well of ketchup. “Like, say you’re rubbing elbows at some famous muckety-muck’s party and someone catches your eye. Who’re you taking back to the motel for a slutty roll in the hay?��

Eddie snickers at your phrasing, then says, “I mean, preferably, my super hot girlfriend-”

You throw a fry at his head. “That’s such a cop-out answer. In this hypothetical, Joan Jett is in red leather petting up on you and you’re saying you wouldn’t take her up on a one-night stand?”

A laugh bursts out of Eddie, a real, proper one where he throws his head back. “Are you actively encouraging me to hook up with some bimbo at a random party? Without you? Unlikely scenario on all fronts, babe.”

This earns him another launched fry, and he squawks, trying to shake it out of its place caught in his hair as you reprimand him- “Joan Jett is not some bimbo, watch your mouth! And what I’m saying is, if you didn’t at least try to score us a threesome with her, I’d be pissed.”

“Okay, baby,” Eddie soothes you a tad derisively, likely a ploy to avoid more flying food- “if I meet Joan Jett I will do my level best to get her in our bed. Scout’s honor.”

He holds up two fingers and wiggles them obscenely, grinning when you laugh again. “All right, Nosey McGee. Who are you taking home from the party?”

You hum, eyes flicking up to the ceiling, contemplating the options. “I guess I could be talked into a night with Kirk Hammett.”

Eddie’s turn to launch a fry. “You slut,” he chuckles, “That was a way quicker answer than mine.”

“Okay, fine. If I meet Kirk Hammett, I promise to at least make a bid for threesome. Deal?” You extend your pinkie across the table.

Eddie loops his little finger into yours. “Deal.”

____

The memory of that cozy diner evening years ago fades as you shake yourself to the present.

You aren’t two highschool kids with lofty dreams, anymore- after Eddie’s recovery from all that Upside Down bullshit in ‘86, Corroded Coffin took off. Even though Paige didn’t end up coming through with any deals, Eddie and his bandmates fought like hell to get signed- and by the end of that year, a small record label in the heart of downtown Chicago had taken the bait.

Corroded Coffin turned out to be the best thing to ever happen to Arken Records; by the spring of ‘87, business was booming thanks to the help of Corroded’s debut album, The Banished Ones- their new single was a chart-topper for over 6 weeks. (Smash Hit magazine’s latest review was titled “Fresh Sound Rises from Dirt Nowhere.” You have the paper clipping saved in your ever-growing folder with “rockstar boyfriend!!!” handwritten in black ink.)

And in a few weeks, the band will set off on their first real tour, starting in Chicago and ending with a bang in an already sold-out show in Hawkins- Dustin, Steve, and the rest of the gang with VIP front-row seats, of course.

As much as you and Eddie have grown and matured in the past few years, the core of you both has remained the same. Eddie is still just as dorky, goofy, and caring as he always has been, while you’ve kept that tenacious spirit and quick wit that he fell in love with back in the early days of dating. Even now, with his popularity rising and his rockstar dreams on their way to coming true, Eddie constantly brings his focus back to you.

Pillow talks in cushy hotel beds, late night ramblings over post-show whiskeys, holding hands in the back of yet another cab- when he could be talking about the thousands of exciting things happening in his own life, Eddie is asking about you.

Did you talk to Robin last night, sweetheart? How’s ‘ol Birdie doin? What do you wanna wear to that dinner thingy tomorrow… could go naked for all I care. In fact you probably should because of feminism and all that. Did you sleep okay last night? Let me look at ya. You thinkin’ any more about those applications you got?

You’d taken a gap year to support Eddie, which you were happy to do, but with ‘87 drawing to a close, he’s been more insistent lately that you take a look at all your college options. Honestly, you’ve been enjoying the adventures that come with touring way too much to consider going back to the rigidity of school.

And plus, having the love of your life nearly bleed out in your arms in a parallel dimension has totally realigned your priorities. If folks thought you and Eddie were attached at the hip before…

He’ll likely argue you into academia, eventually. He always rolls high on persuasion. Damn him.

For now, you’ve got a party to attend.

Arken Records is playing host, on the last night of 1987- in celebration of Corroded Coffin’s success and to kick off the New Year’s festivities, they’ve rented out a house in east Chicago for the event.

Well, house isn’t the right word. More like mansion. Vaulted ceilings tall as a church’s, huge windows overlooking the Chicago river, a grand chandelier with flickering candles in nearly every room.

When you and Eddie had toured the place a few days previous, he’d made a joking complaint low in your ear about not having the time to fuck you on every surface. Your laugh had reverberated off the sweeping mahogany floorboards, mostly at the expense of Eddie’s poor publicist who’d happened to hear his comment. (Melanie had really been putting in overtime lately; you made a mental note to send her a very nice flower arrangement and vouchers for a spa trip.)

The party was in full swing by the time you and Eddie arrived, fashionably late, and he had been folded into the throng of other musicians and partygoers against his will pretty much immediately- which you’d expected. The last hour, he’s been throwing you piteous looks from his spot across the room, where he hasn’t had the chance to move an inch with the amount of people keeping the conversation going. You’ve slipped to his side a few times, refreshing his drink, letting him curl an arm around your waist as you perch on his knee, only half-focused on whatever story some producer is saying as Eddie’s hand trails up your thigh.

You’re back on the nearest wall again, sipping champagne, taking it all in. There are probably over a hundred people crammed into this banquet room, bass thumping through the floorboards, tables shoved to the outer corners making space for a makeshift dance space.

The air is hazy with smoke from various cigarettes and joints; as the night has progressed, the smell of freshly-applied cologne has been replaced with heady sweat as the dance floor calls more people to writhe and grind in groups and partners. Eddie is still stuck in the lone pod of living room chairs, surrounded by a rapt audience of people crammed in to hear him better over the blaring music.

He looks damn good tonight, in a cut-off black tee and his favorite ripped jeans, leather jacket hung on the chair behind him. Silver catches the light from every angle- on the chains at his hips, around his neck, glinting off his rings as he gestures animatedly mid-story. He’d asked you to do his eyeliner at the hotel earlier, and although it’s smudged and blurred at the edges now he’s still pulling it off. Tiny silver stars, hand-drawn with your eyeshadow brush, twinkle across his cheeks like freckles.

Eddie wanted to match with you, whined until you added a belt made of gold-plated stars to your outfit. You went simple, the gold to his silver- belt cinching your short black satin slip dress, delicate brass rings and bracelets around your fingers and bare forearms. The one piece of silver you are wearing is a chain around your neck, Eddie’s guitar pick nestled snug between your breasts.

You still resolutely refuse to wear heels, even after Eddie’s stylist cajoled you into practicing on stilettos for a disastrous media training session last month- tonight you’re in a chic pair of Mary Janes with the slightest suggestion of a heel. Compromise.

There’s a big laugh from the crowd in the corner again as Eddie knocks a hand into Gareth’s chest for emphasis, nearly knocking the younger boy off his seat. You stare unabashedly at Eddie’s forearms, biceps on full display; he’s filled out a bit since leaving home, his usually lean frame boasting a bit more weight and bulk now that he’s got consistent access to well-rounded meals.

He’s looking healthy, down right glowy. You’re thinking about that smattered trail of dark hair that slides down the crest of his stomach, now with extra padding enough to sink your teeth into. As if he knows, Eddie catches your eye from across the room and winks, cheekily.

You shiver and unconsciously press your thighs together, hiding your grin with another swallow of champagne.

The alcohol turns a bit sour going down, though, as a crimped-haired blonde girl worms her way to Eddie’s side, laughing a little too loudly at the joke he just told. When she places a manicured hand on one of his shoulders, the thin stem of your glass nearly snaps in your grip.

The thing about rockstars is they have crazy sex appeal. The thing about your rockstar is he’s only interested in you, something that has been proved many times over.

So why is tonight hitting you so hard? Why do you feel nauseous the longer Eddie lets some random woman’s hand stay on his bare skin when you know he’s going home with you, and only you?

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or the overcrowded room, or the memories of Benny’s diner still lingering like a bruise in your mind. Hard to pinpoint exactly. All you know is that jealousy is gnawing like a thing raw and seeking in the pit of your stomach, and if you don’t get out of this stuffy room soon you’re gonna do something tabloid-worthy, like cry in the middle of a New Year’s Eve party.

By the grace of some god you make it across the dance floor and into a side bathroom unscathed, the pulsing sound of the party blissfully dimming as you shut the door behind you. Your mind whirls as you grip the gilded sink for stability, blinking hard at the tears beginning to form.

You love having a boyfriend who’s larger than life. You love that he’s taking up space and getting to use that charm that was nurtured on the DM throne back in Hawkins. You’re so proud of him, you really are.

You’re just starting to hate the way other people’s surface-level love of him makes you feel.

Because that’s what it is, right? Just surface-level, you reason with yourself- the level of intimacy that you and Eddie have is unmatched, something that the newly-formed masses of admirers won’t ever get to experience.

Christ, can jealousy give you hives? You grab a handful of paper towels and soak them in cold tap water, then press the damp bundle to your chest, breath stuttering.

You’ve never been the jealous type, or the overbearing type- it’s a new feeling, and maybe that’s why it feels so scary. The more you try to tamp it down, the more it rears its ugly head, making you, in turn, feel embarrassed for having such a strong reaction in the first place.

It’s a vicious cycle that’s only seeming to gain speed as you realize you haven’t yet managed a full breath since coming to your hiding spot. Your lungs are pinched and burning as you drop the soggy paper into the sink, leaning into the lip of the porcelain to steady yourself.

There’s a knock on the door, and you choke out “Just a minute”, not sure if the person on the other side can even hear you over the music when Eddie’s voice leaks through.

“Baby? That you in there?”

Against your better judgment, you open the door, and he crams in the small space, locking it again behind himself.

“There you are, I saw you leave and thought you were getting a drink or something but then you didn’t come back and- are you okay?”

He interrupts his own stream of consciousness when he notices the state you’re in. You give him a trembly smile, waving a hand dismissively.

“Yeah, all good. I’ll come back with you, just needed to pee.”

Eddie is not so easily thrown off the scent. He murmurs your name, sliding his hand into yours, looking at you with a wounded puppy gaze- fuck, you can’t have a breakdown. Not here, not on New Year’s in some knockoff-Playboy’s bathroom.

And certainly not in front of Eddie, who’s asking you to tell him what’s wrong, what happened, with an increasingly pleading tone that’s really, really not helping your whole Don’t Cry agenda.

Hoping your voice doesn’t break, you clear your throat and pull your hand from his grasp. “Nothing happened, okay? I just had too much to drink, feeling overly sentimental or something. I’m okay.”

You think your white lie was convincing enough when Eddie reaches back for the door handle, that maybe he’ll rejoin the party and leave you to have a good cry, but after poking his head out the doorway briefly he grabs onto your wrist, tugging you to his side and hissing “Quick!”

And then you’re both making a break for it down the mostly-empty hallway, Eddie pulling you smoothly past a wall of expensive-looking oil paintings before going through a set of double doors that lead to the outside.

It’s December in Chicago, which means a light layer of snow covers the terraced garden that Eddie is leading you through, stopping at a stone bench flanked by two scraggly bushes.

“Made it,” he huffs with exertion, dropping your hand to shrug his leather jacket off in favor of draping it around your own shoulders.

“You’re gonna be cold,” you sniffle, partly from the tears, partly from the crisp night air.

“Yeah,” he agrees easily, wrapping you in a hug. You press your forehead to his chest. “Got my girl to keep me warm, though.”

You stay like this for a few moments, his arms solid around you, breaths coming easier as the familiar smell of his tangy skin and that spicy bar soap he uses fills your senses.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” he asks, gently, holding you at arm’s length to study your face.

When you shrug, unsure of where to start, he lets go of you and walks backwards, taking an unflinching seat on the snow-covered bench.

You gasp despite yourself, reaching to pull him up even as he twists out of your grasp- “Eddie, jesus, you’re literally gonna freeze your ass off. Get up!”

But he’s solid in his seat, widening his stance, boots planted on the ground- “I’m not moving until you tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, so you better start talking before my jeans freeze to the concrete.”

“It’s nothing,” you insist, but he’s giving you that look again, the one that cracks through the tough exterior every time, and you wrap your arms around yourself under the warmth of his jacket as you admit, “Okay, fine. It’s something. I’m just… having an overreaction.”

“To the shellfish?” he deadpans.

“No, asshole, to the blonde girl who was rubbing up on you earlier,” you snap.

Eddie blinks, genuine confusion in his voice- “There was a blonde girl… rubbing up on me?”

“She was petting your shoulder,” you continue, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the ground. “She was touching you, and I got- jealous, I guess.”

“Baby, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t remember her, at all,” Eddie emphasizes, spreading a palm flat against his chest in a gesture of sincerity, hair shifting across his shoulders as he cocks his head to the side.

His face is too familiar, too earnest for you to be able to say what you’re feeling without bursting into tears, so you turn on your heel, pacing a short loop in front of the bench, your breath hanging in misty clouds as you speak.

“It’s not even about her, necessarily. It’s about me and my stupid emotions. I’m not usually like this- jealous, you know? Like, I’m so proud of you, and everything you’ve accomplished, and I don’t mind sharing you, really I don’t, it’s just…”

You pause in your pacing, let your head drop back to look at the inky black sky pinpricked with stars, and your next words fall out like a confession.

“I just feel like I’m in mourning.”

You can feel his eyes on you still, as you loose the feeling that’s been caught tight in your chest. “It sounds so dramatic, when I say it like that. But I think that’s what it is. I miss when it was just the two of us, in this little bubble where no one knew our names and we just had each other.”

As the words leave your mouth, you scramble to explain, to soften the blow, hands tightening around your upper arms as you turn back to face the boy on the bench. “And I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, or, like, a total jealous bitch, because I really love you and I hope you know I’m not- are you laughing?”

Eddie tries his best to stifle the laughter into his fist when he sees how indignant you look. He rises from the bench, still a bit mirthful, pulling you back into his space. “Sorry, honey, I’m not making fun of you, I promise.”

You’re glaring at him now, and he ducks to kiss at the lines between your brow before pulling back and saying, “I think what you’re feeling is normal, and I don’t think you’re overreacting at all. Remember that asshole at the Smith Center party who kept trying to get your number right in front of me?”

“Vaguely.”

“I wanted to punch his lights out. Make a real scene, kiss you sloppy in front of some cameras.” Eddie cups your face in his hands, soothing his thumb against the wetness of your lashline. “What I’m saying is, I get jealous, too. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

“But…” there’s a well of emotions that you’re drawing from, and it’s not empty yet, one nagging thought still surfacing. “But these girls that are coming on to you, they’re like… really hot. I don’t look anything like them.”

Eddie frowns. “Are you seriously trying to make a case for yourself on the grounds of not being really hot? That’s not gonna hold up in court, gorgeous. I mean… have you even looked in a mirror recently?”

He lightly taps his knuckle against your head, trying to get you to crack a smile, but you’re not ready to give in yet.

“You don’t think you’ll get bored of me?” you whisper, dropping your eyes from his consuming gaze to the wyvern inked on the inside of his arm.

“Sweetheart…” Eddie sounds genuinely pained. The ink in his skin stretches as he slips a hand to the back of your neck, cold rings against your skin making you shiver. “I couldn’t ever get bored of you. Not in a million years. We've been through too much together for you to think like that, hm?”

He strokes his thumb down the column of your neck, those doey brown eyes on you again. “Now I’m not saying you shouldn’t ever be jealous, ‘cuz god knows it makes me hot under the collar when you are. But I’m sayin’ I never wanna make you feel like you need to earn me, okay?”

His thumb tracks back up to the hollow of your jaw, taps twice questioningly, and you nod, letting out a shaky, “Okay.”

When he kisses you, it feels like every other time- comfortable, grounding, familiar. His tongue presses against the seam of your lips, and you let him lick into your mouth, gripping at his arms, flushing hot as you give it back to him in spades.

With a short groan, he pulls back, a wet click as your mouths separate- “As much as I wanna jump your bones in this wintry wonderland, I think the snow might’ve actually frozen my balls off.”

You giggle, spanning your hands around the meat of his waist, kissing up into his mouth again- “Poor baby. Want me to warm ‘em up in my mouth?”

He gives a solid smack to your ass for that, his palm smoothing over the stinging skin with condescension when you yelp- “All dish and no take, baby? Not exactly fair.”

____

Despite your weak protestations that you both should probably rejoin the party, at least until midnight, Eddie insists on taking you back to the hotel.

“This party blows, anyways,” he says over his shoulder to you as he leads you back through the halls of the house. “If I hear one more Tears for Fears track I might throw myself into the river from one of the hundred balconies in this place.”

He manages to track down Melanie with some effort, winding his way through the throng of people to where she’d been chatting with a reporter, plucking at her elbow to get her away from the crowd and into the quieter hallway with you.

“We gotta scoot, Mel,” he tells her, really hamming up the charm as the young publicist widens her eyes. “Think you can get us a ride outta here?”

“Mr. Munson, you can’t just leave,” Melanie insists, frazzled. “Someone from Rolling Stone has been waiting for the last hour to talk to you, if you could just-”

“No can do.” Eddie shakes his head, mock-apologetic. “There’s been an accident. Of a personal nature.”

You manage to choke down your laughter as Eddie turns around to show off the dark stains on the back of his jeans. They’re just wet from the snow that he sat in earlier, of course, but it looks convincing enough to make Melanie blanch and pinch the bridge of her nose.

“I’ll have a cab out front in ten for you both. Please keep a low profile until then.”

Eddie gives a sharp salute and you mouth an apology at her before she retreats to find a phone.

Okay, so maybe add a hefty bonus to that Nice Things for Melanie list of yours.

____

One of the perks of having a rockstar for a boyfriend is the sweet digs- the label shelled out for Chicago’s finest penthouse suite; an entire luxurious upper floor with a private elevator, windows overlooking the far-below city lights, and a sunken bath big enough for two.

Also included? Soundproof walls.

A perk you’re very grateful for as Eddie walks you backwards into the room, sucking a mark with stinging teeth into your neck as you moan, then giggle breathily, admonishing- “Christ, Eddie, slow down. We have all night.”

Eddie pulls back just far enough to frown down at you, his hands slipping under the hem of your dress to squeeze at your ass. His rings are cold against your bare flesh, and he grins when you shiver. “Uh huh. Sure do have all night. You gonna take advantage of that?”

He wiggles his eyebrows, cheekily, but that smirk drops from his face in record time the second you shove him to the bed. As his knees give out in favor of sitting on the mattress, you steady your hands against his broad shoulders to swing yourself into his lap.

Eddie’s looking up at you, cinnamon eyes darkened with lust- it makes your stomach flip something awful. Your skin feels alight with heat as Eddie’s hands drip like water down your sides, then to your parted thighs.

You sigh into his mouth as his fingers trace the front of your underwear, the silk sticky with your arousal.

“Oh, baby,” Eddie says, equal parts admonishment and pitying as you squirm into his touch. “What’s got you this worked up, hm?”

He’s asking like he doesn’t know- like he didn’t tease you with filthy whispers and wandering hands in the back of the car the whole way here.

“Whaddya think,” you scoff, not quite ready to give in yet, enjoying the thrill of being cagey as Eddie hooks a finger to tuck your panties to the side.

He grins, simmering, enjoying the chase just as much as you. His middle finger swipes through your folds and you shudder in his arms, hands tightening into the meat of his shoulders as he brings the wetness up to your clit.

Eddie rubs quick, steady circles until you’re mewling, bucking hips grinding down to seek more friction. You can feel the wetness seeping out of your core, dampening his jeans as he licks back into your mouth, capturing the soft noises you’re making as he winds you up.

“Can’t believe a pretty thing like you has anything to be jealous of.” Eddie noses at the spot under your jaw, and when you let your head fall back on a hinge to grant him access, he sucks another mark into the column of your throat. “‘M all yours, sweetheart. You gonna take what’s yours?”

Truth be told, your mind went fuzzy the second Eddie got his hands on your clit, the consistent build of pleasure sparking between your legs rather distracting. You’d almost forgotten how the night had started, but you let the jealousy and possessiveness creep back in as you push at Eddie’s chest.

He goes down easily, toeing his boots off and lying flat on the mattress; big hands settle on your waist as you rest your weight into him, warm cunt pressing against the bulge of his clothed cock.

At a light drag of your nails against his bare chest and across his nipple, Eddie groans low, squeezing your hips and rucking into you.

“You’re all mine, Eddie, right?”

His pupils nearly eclipsing their soft brown irises, Eddie stares up at you like you hang the moon and stars every night just for him. “Yeah, sweetheart. ‘M all yours. Lemme show you.”

Eddie pulls at the backs of your legs, helping you shuffle up his body until your knees are dipping into the mattress at either side of his head. Your core hovers just above Eddie’s mouth- you can feel his breath speed up on the inside of your thigh at this new position.

“Oh, fuck, Eddie- jesus… christ,” the last word ending in a moan as Eddie’s tongue licks a wet stripe through your folds.

He pulls you closer with an arm over each thigh until you’re sitting on his face, his nose hitting your clit with each tilt of his head. You’ve got no idea how he’s able to breathe down there but you’re hardly able to hold onto that thought when his tongue has started plunging in and out of you.

Automatically, your hands shoot out to stabilize yourself- one hand goes to the headboard and the other ends up in his hair, gripping the roots hard. Eddie groans, sending vibrations that make your cunt clench around his lithe tongue.

“Like the taste of my pussy, baby?” you coo down at him, regaining some of your breath to give him attitude.

Reaching a hand back to palm at his cock, you say “No one else can have you like this, hm?”

Eddie catches your eyes as he mouths wetly at your clit, then sucks it into his mouth. Your thighs shake around his ears, your orgasm unfurling in clenching ripples.

“Oh, yeah, Eddie, fuck, I’m coming- just like that, fuck fuck fuck…”

He doesn’t stop suckling at you until you’re gushing around his mouth, then pulling him off by his hair to make him stop.

Eddie heaves in a breath, kissing at the inside of your thigh, his lips and chin shiny with your release. “God, baby. Such pretty noises for me.”

“Mhm.” You shuffle down until your hips are aligned over his, then lean in to lick his mouth clean. “Gonna make some pretty ones for me, now?”

After helping pull his shirt off, Eddie whines softly as you press kisses down his bare chest, and by the time your mouth is pressing over that dark trail of hair that leads into his denim, Eddie’s begging.

“Please, angel, please- need your mouth. Do anything for it, baby, please…”

You rub your cheek against his bulge before pulling back to pop the button on his jeans, then help him shift them down and off his body. Once his black briefs join the growing pile of floor clothes, Eddie’s completely bare and at your mercy.

He gets on his elbows to watch as you mouth at the inside of his thigh, dark hair splayed around his shoulders, chest heaving when you ignore his leaking cock in favor of grazing your teeth against a sensitive spot. “Fuckin’- christ, sweetheart. Come on. Please?”

“Sound pretty when you beg,” you say, mildly, kissing across his heavy sack, hiding a smile when the contact makes him jolt. “Gonna do it some more?”

You keep eye contact as you take one of his balls into your mouth, watching his own eyes roll back so far you can see the whites of them as you use your tongue on him.

“-yeah, baby, yeah- just like that- fucking, fuck, you’re killin’ me…”

Eddie sounds wrecked already, and a hot flush of pride courses through your body at the knowledge that he could come from just this and it’d be you getting him there.

You mouth over to the other side of his sack, rolling the skin wiry with coarse hair against your tongue as Eddie moans above you. When your hand wraps around the base of his cock, starting to move in tandem with the pull of your mouth, Eddie makes a noise like he’s been punched.

A line of drool breaks and hits wet against your chin as you straighten up, settling yourself into the V of his legs and using his thighs as handholds while you begin to kiss up the line of his leaking cock.

He’s got a gorgeous dick, truly. Thick and long, curving slightly to the right, a pretty blue vein snaking up the underside that you lathe your tongue against, seeking out the salty brine at the ruddy head.

Eddie moans, brokenly, white-knuckled hands twisting into the sheets. When your mouth closes around the tip, his elbows give out, leaving him flat against the mattress as you work his length further in.

“Oh my god. Oh, fuck, baby. Please don’t stop. Please. Y’feel so good…”

You hum around the stretch of him in your mouth, relaxing your throat to draw him in a bit more. The spiky jealousy from earlier really is your biggest motivator here; covetous, you’re thinking back to all those first times with Eddie- trembling hands under your bedsheets back in Hawkins, stilted voices and giggles to cover up the awkwardness of trying to learn the other person’s body.

No one will ever know him like you do. No one will ever have all that shared history, those fumbling nights that slowly turned to lovesick days; memories of him on his knees for you, learning all the little things that make you tick, memorizing the song of your body.

The boy is all yours.

Your throat automatically constricts at the intrusion of Eddie’s cock slipping past your soft palate- his hips cant up, which you can hardly fault him for, patient as he’s been with your retrospective and teasing.

Before he can apologize you’re sitting up, wiping at the excess drool with the back of your hand and shucking your dress over your head, letting it and your belt fall to the floor with a soft clunk.

Eddie reaches for you again as you slide your panties down and off, and you let him help you up his body, your knees coming to rest alongside the lightly raised scar tissue at his sides. You stroke a hand down his chest, giving in to a moment of softness before seating yourself fully in Eddie’s lap.

His hands snap to your hips, a near-brutal squeeze as you sink onto his cock. The stretch is always an adjustment, but you’re so wet right now that he slides in easily, a breathy moan from the both of you as the walls of your cunt fit snug around his sizeable length.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” The crown of Eddie’s head is pressed back into the bed, veins in his taut neck on full display as your hips start to swivel, blunt nails scraping into the soft flesh of your waist. “Just like that, sweetheart. Fuck me.”

With your knees planted on either side of his body, you begin to bounce in steady, rhythmic earnest, going for gold, the desire to bring your boy to the babbling edge overtaking every other thought.

“Feel so good, Eds, so big… can barely fit…” There’s a wet squelch accompanying each bounce now, slick dripping down to the base of his cock, your vice of a cunt flexing with every movement.

“S’all you, baby,” Eddie rasps out, toes curling in the efforts to keep his orgasm at bay for awhile longer. “Got a perfect pussy. Takin’ me so well.”

He’s almost in delirium territory, with you chasing after that bright unwinding pleasure at both of your cores; your hips stutter, hands flat on Eddie’s chest to center yourself, a hunger that you can’t seem to satiate gnawing at the edges.

Eddie notices immediately, feels the falter in your motion and brings his hands to your forearms, rubbing a path up them soothingly- “What’s wrong, angel, hm?”

You’re not sure how to put it into words, wishing (not for the first time) that you could just rest your forehead against his and transmit all the complexities of your emotions through touch alone.

Instead, you sigh out the name that you use when you’re done with taking, a name that lights Eddie up from head to toe as you say it- “Teddy.”

In one swift movement, Eddie slips an arm behind your back and flips you to the mattress, his hair a curtain around both your faces as he leans in to whisper against your mouth- “Teddy’s got you. Arms around me.”

You’re quick to obey, looping your arms around Eddie’s wide shoulders. He slides one hand up the back of your leg, pushing a knee up until it’s at your chest, mouth dropping open briefly when the new angle allows the head of his cock to kiss against that gummy upper wall of your cunt.

“Bored of you,” he huffs, recalling your words from earlier with disdain. “You’re talkin’ to the guy who memorized the first six chapters of The Hobbit just to recite for your bedtime.”

A quick thrust of his pelvis into yours has your stomach clenching in anticipation, brows on a tilt and knitting together as Eddie grins down at you. “Got a wicked attention span, baby. Lemme show you.”

He starts slow, agonizingly so, every inch of his thick cock dragging in and out, wetness pooling down your ass and probably the sheets, too; errant thoughts of housekeeping are rapidly erased as Eddie begins snapping his hips into yours in faster tempo.

He’s working to find that spot, the one that turns your brain to mush and is guaranteed to cause full-body muscle fatigue from the force of your orgasm. Your back arches off the bed, breasts pushing into Eddie’s chest, one arm still supporting your lower back as he laughs hoarsely, half-amazement and half-pride.

“That’s the spot, huh, sweetheart? Atta girl. M’all yours. Take it. Good girl…”

With each thrust, the wiry patch of hair dusted across Eddie’s pubic bone grinds slick and filthy against your clit. You’re so close to the edge now, a wave of pleasure cresting as you look up at Eddie.

There are two thin tracks of black makeup trailing down his face from where tears have made a mess of his eyeliner; rosy spots of flushed color in his cheeks, eyes like twin pools of chocolate, locked with yours as he rocks into you.

He’s learned the song of your body so well, knows every chord to strike- his hand leaves your leg to grasp at your breast, calloused palm against pebbled nipple sending more shockwaves through your body, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you sing for him.

“All yours,” you gasp out, and it feels like victory when his hips stutter and the cresting wave crashes around you both at the same time.

The pleasure roils through your gut, clit throbbing and cunt spasming around Eddie’s cock as he spills into you.

A wrecked, broken string of moans leaves you as you ride out the highs together. Eddie presses his forehead to your collarbone as he chants your name, twitching out the last of his spend, warmth blooming inside.

The quiet that follows is filled with shaking breaths, soft kisses, murmurs of “good job, sweetheart” as you both float back down to earth.

Eddie stays in you for longer than usual, his draped weight a grounding comfort as you trail gentle fingertips up and down his skin, lovingly against the scars that interrupt the smooth flesh of his back. Through the closed windows, you can hear the distant sounds of car horns and the deep boom of fireworks.

Sometime in the last foggy hour of lovemaking, 1987 has given way to a new year.

Eddie pulls his heavy head up from your chest to press kisses to your collarbone. “Happy new year, lover.”

You tuck his hair behind his ears, hands squishing lightly at his cheeks to bring his face close enough for a kiss. “Happy new year to you. Hell of a way to kick it off.”

Eventually, Eddie extricates himself from the intoxicating heat of your body (with minimal whining) and brings a warm washcloth to tenderly wipe away the mess between your thighs. Once you’re both cleaned up, he stretches out against the sheets, pulling the covers up as you hook a leg around his waist and snuggle in.

“So I was thinking,” he starts, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “I wanna take a trip back to Hawkins. Before the tour.”

Your hand stills in its rhythmic circles against Eddie’s chest; heart in your throat, you tilt your chin up so you can gauge Eddie’s reaction. “...yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie picks up your hand on his chest, twining his fingers with your as his other hand settles on your bare hip beneath the sheets. “Could visit Wayne for a few days, fool around in that twin bed like we’re teens again.”

He grins at your giggle, taps playfully at your hip- “Gonna parade you around all our old haunts. You’ve gotten even hotter since we left, babe. Gotta really rub it in the faces of those Hawkins Tigers burnouts whose best dates are their own left hands.”

You snort, and Eddie looks pleased again, but then sobers a bit before saying- “I mean, I’ve got my piece of home with me. But I think it could be good, to visit. Just the two of us.”

You’re quiet for a moment, a longing for home that you’ve managed to ignore these past few years resurfacing. “Can we get high and go to that diner? I mean, Nell’s isn’t as good as Benny’s was, but I’ve been craving a Hawkins milkshake.”

“Christ.” Eddie hides his smile in the crook of your neck, dimples springing to life. “You could ask for the Mona Lisa and I’d find a way to get it to you. Fries and a milkshake, that all I need to keep my girl happy?”

“Yeah,” you reply, a contented noise as Eddie settles against your chest again. “That’s all I need.”

___

thank u thank u for reading if you made it this far have a little kiss from me to you <3 xx lulu

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie

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lucysarah-c · 4 months

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Question: for Virgin! Canon Levi; how do you think that would go down? Like full blown sex one night? Taking it slow over time? Just how do you think reader would need to navigate it with him? Slow burn / build up, a passionate night, tipsy reader?

This is assuming Levi and Reader’s emotions are confirmed for each other

Hiiiii~~ How are you? What have you been up to lately?

Haha, honestly, I'm not entirely sure what caused this full blow-up of questions, but I'm kinda loving it.

Mhh, I think my answer depends a lot on two factors: "Levi's age" and "the experience of the reader." I know you said Canon Levi, but I wonder if you mean canon season 1-4 Levi, Underground Levi, pre-promotion Levi, etc. haha

I'll conclude that you meant "canon season 1-3" Levi. While I personally don't headcanon Captain Levi as a virgin during the "overall" period of AoT (I mean, since season 1, not ACWNR or Underground Levi), I think his reaction depends a lot on how much experience the reader has. Levi strikes me as one of those friends/partners who loves you, cares about you, etc., but hardly ever talks about themselves. In my humble opinion, even if Levi has feelings for you and you two decide to pursue a relationship together, it may take him a lot of time to open up about his past. I mean, this man gets along with Hange amazingly in the story; Isayama says that Hange is who "understands" or "gets along better with Levi," and yet Hange didn't know about Kenny.

So this may be a wild take… but I think Levi wouldn't tell you it's his first time, lmao. He may try to play it cool; you might notice he's not the most "skilled" dude out there ('cause let me tell you, no amount of Ackerman powers makes you seem experienced, lol), but he's not telling you it's his first time. Which, you know, everybody is entitled to their past. Perhaps if the reader is also a virgin and she opens up emotionally like, "It's my first time," Levi would feel she's opening up to him, and he would feel it's a good time to be honest too and be like, "Well… it's mine too, so I guess we will figure it out as we go."

About "how" it would be, I think the reader would have to set the tempo. Most men are READY to blow off some steam if you give them a chance, haha, so if the reader is also a virgin and they kinda want to test the waters before going all the way, Levi would be down for it, especially because it will give him time to catch a trick or two, learn what she likes.

I think that porn or movies make us believe how "sex" usually happens, and I mean, talking from my experience and my friends' experiences… none of us went from 0 to 10. Like, we kiss, we make out, then maybe we got a little handy, then riding on top of clothes, oral sex, fingers, etc. Especially because maybe you don't have your own place to crash at, maybe you two would like to talk it out before it happens. Buy condoms, get ready, etc.

Now, if you are curious how I think Underground Levi would decide to lose his V-card while younger… probably rather quick, steamy, and not giving it much thought, haha. He'd let the hormones talk and make decisions for him. In both occasions, I don't think he made the girl cum before him, which is something that happens a lot; we women are harder to please, it requires more technique than men who… well, let's say that they come rather easily, lol. BUT he will 100% offer to make her cum anyway, with fingers or mouth. Levi will be such a fast learner, give him a chance or two, and he will pick it up like a champ.

Though why can't I shake the idea of a younger Levi in the underground in his 18s, having something with a girl slightly older than him, perhaps 20, etc. And her saying between chuckles, "Slow down, boy."

God, I would pay to see his blushed, embarrassed face.

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @angelofthor @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @levisecretgfblog @searriously @blackdxggr @ackermanswifee @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-12345 @levicansteponme @galactict3a Wanna join my tag list? Here!

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littledovesnow · 9 months

Text

the sound of snow

request: coriolanus with a girlfriend (wife in this case) who has hearing damange from the war

word count: 2.2k

content warnings: coriolanus being kinda awful in his speech but it's canon sooo, lucky flickerman trying to make a joke (spoiler: it doesn't land well), i think that's it?

a/n: ok i am not d/Deaf/HoH but i do have friends and former classmates who are, and i've done research before writing this. please correct me if i am wrong about anything. i left some things vague (such as hearing loss level), but overall i think it's decent?

also italics are when there's sign language being used :)

also also i had like three title ideas for this but i feel like they're all so bad but i liked this one the best

-----

Coriolanus had first met you back when you were both still wet behind the ears, unsure of how to navigate life after the Dark Days. His family had taken a direct hit when District 13 was no longer, his family’s fortune plundering into the depth unknown. Your family, however, had to face a different setback: a few rather close bomb blasts had stolen a majority of your hearing.

Coming from an affluent family, you were able to afford a private tutor growing up, teaching you and your family sign language, though as you grew old enough you were fit for a hearing aid in the left ear—the only one with enough hearing left to make it worthwhile.

All the while, you and Coriolanus never turned your backs on each other, choosing to let each other in on your trials and tribulations, knowing secrets were safe between the two of you. He had thus learned sign language from being in your home so often, Tigris and the Grandma’am having picked up on some of the more common phrases.

When you were both of age to begin at the Academy, your father fought tooth and nail with the Dean to ensure you were well-equipped with an interpreter when necessary, though you often went without one as you grew tiresome of the stares from your classmates.

During the 10th Annual Hunger Games, you say alongside Coriolanus as you two watched the tributes battle for victory, both celebrating when Lucy Gray was crowned the victor, both unaware of what fate waited your boyfriend the following day.

His stint in District 12 was something you two rarely spoke on, choosing to forget those few disastrous months while you were separated, you back in the Capitol studying at University while Coriolanus learned the hard way what it meant to be a Peacekeeper, to learn what it feels like to betray a friend, to learn what true power felt like.

Dr. Gaul had spoken to you prior to calling Coriolanus back to the Capitol, wanting your input if he would be a considerable candidate for her Gamemaker Apprenticeship, to which you informed her it was one of the biggest honors he would have wished for. Thus, Coriolanus was recalled back to the Capitol, back to you, where he stood alongside Dr. Gaul to prepare for years of Hunger Games, eventually landing as a true Gamemaker as Dr. Gaul began to take steps back in preparation for her retirement.

One day, however, Coriolanus had told her he was interested in becoming Panem’s next president, with Felix Ravinstill gone and no other heirs of the title, an election would take place. It was no surprise to the Head Gamemaker when the blonde brought the idea up, having seen him yearn and hunger for the coveted presidential position since he was fresh out of the Academy.

It came as no shock when he was announced at the Panem’s next president, you alongside of him as the First Lady. The country never knew what would become of the young couple, stars and revenge in their eyes.

-----

Coriolanus knew where he could find you once he returned from the Citadel, having met with Dr. Gaul for the upcoming 25th Hunger Games. He wanted them to be more of a spectacle than usual, to commemorate the quarter century since the end of the war.

He ignored the Avox who had opened the door to the private wing of the mansion, ignored the Avox who had his usual glass of whiskey waiting on a silver platter.

Opening the door to the greenhouse, Coriolanus’ eyes lit up as he saw you carefully pruning the rose bush planted in memorial of the Grandma’am. “Love?”

You looked up, and Coriolanus smiled when he realized your hearing aid was still in. You usually chose not to wear it while at home, preferring the comfortable silence from time to time.

“How was your day?” He asked, helping you untie the gardening smock you wore to protect the clothing underneath.

“It was fine, uneventful.” You replied, looking at the garden around the two of you. “How was Volumnia?”

Coriolanus was still gobsmacked that Dr. Gaul allowed his wife to call her by her first name, only a select few Capitol citizens were granted that honor, though he was one of them.

“She misses you, asked that you stop by sometime for lunch.” Coriolanus mused, plucking a rose out of the bunch in the vase. “Maybe you can help her come up with some new strategies for The Games, she loved your idea of stocking some food in the middle.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, not expecting the silly idea of arming the tributes with food to be such a hit in the Captiol. Betting had been at an all-time high for the tributes who had been able to get their hands on the stale, tasteless protein bars.

“I’ll see if she’s available on Thursday.” You knew the mad scientist would make room any day to meet with you. She had a soft spot for you, no one was quite sure why.

“You can ask her this evening, since we have that awful gala to start preparing for The Games.”

You looked at your husband, clearly forgetting about the gala. “I forgot that was tonight. I wouldn’t have pruned the roses if I had known.”

Coriolanus, who was cold-hearted and strict in public, simply waved off the nonissue. “You wore gloves, a smock, you look as beautiful as ever.”

You pressed your lips to his, disappearing to the bathroom for a shower prior to getting ready.

-----

Attending Capitol galas and evening events as First Lady of Panem was something you weren’t sure you would ever get used to. Cameras flashing, various news outlets trying to get a snippet of you and Coriolanus talking, microphones in your faces.

Not that they would get anything, as Coriolanus was only going to give hints at his next political plans, life events, anything really, to Lucky Flickerman, who he had become rather close with following his mentorship in the Academy.

“D’you want anything to drink?” Coriolanus asked, lips brushing on the shell of your left ear.

Nodding, you two moved over to the bar for a couple glasses of posca before starting the endless circle of meeting politicians, thanking Capitol elites for their support, and the nagging question of when you two would start a family.

You had eventually been able to break free from the conversation you and Coriolanus were stuck in when Lucky Flickerman himself took the spot in behind the podium, preparing to start the night’s speeches.

Taking your seats, you felt Coriolanus place his arm on the back of your chair, hand brushing up and down the back your right bicep, goosebumps breaking out in the area.

As Lucky began his speech, you moved closer to your husband, whispering in his ear, “I can’t understand what he’s saying.”

Coriolanus looked back at you, noticing the missing hearing aid, eyebrow raised.

“I forgot to put it back in after my shower.”

Without missing a beat, Coriolanus shifted in his seat and began to interpret the speeches for you, ignoring the not-so-subtle looks you two were getting, mainly from newer guests who weren’t used to seeing the president use sign language.

At the conclusion of Lucky’s speech, a Capitol employee scuttled over to the First Couple.

“President Snow, we can have an Avox translate if you’d like.”

Frowning, Coriolanus shook his head. “That’s alright, I can interpret for my wife.”

The employee didn’t seem to expect that response, simply blinking at the couple.

“Is that a problem?” Coriolanus asked, ignoring your hand on his knee.

“N-no, not at all. I just- you’re expected to make a speech tonight, too.” The employee tried to backpedal, not wanting to ruin his career tonight.

You chose this moment to speak up, not wanting Coriolanus to overreact. “It’s fine, Coryo’s quite apt at making sure I know what’s going on. Why don’t you be a dear and get me a glass of wine?”

The employee was quick to leave the conversation, and Coriolanus looked at you. “You’re too kind to them.”

Shrugging, you took the full glass without so much as a glance in the employee’s direction. “Someone has to be.”

Coriolanus let out an airy laugh as he stood up, dusting off some nonexistent crumbs from his burgundy suit. He squeezed your arm before departing from your side, taking his place where Lucky Flickerman had left open, the weatherman-turned-host made sure to give his hand a shake as they exchanged pleasantries.

Giving everyone a moment to settle down, Coriolanus cleared his throat before beginning, shocking nearly everyone in the room as he used both his voice and hands to conduct the speech.

“The Twenty-Fifth Hunger Games are right around the corner, so I thought I would give you all a twist I’m putting into the Reaping ceremony this year, and potentially the following Reapings. Dr. Gaul and I have had numerous discussions about how tributes are elected, and from prior games being rigged, we have initiated a couple updates to the ceremony and process.”

You were curious of the updates Coriolanus was talking about, unaware he was still dipping his toes into Gamemaking.

“Rather than each District’s mayor or elected spokesperson calling the names, we will have someone from the Capitol pull names. It will eliminate the possibility for rigging the tributes. In addition, who really wants to watch groups of children kill each other? With Reaping eligibility starting at age twelve, the Gamemakers and I have decided to increase the number of entries one gets as they age. When they reach the age of eighteen, each possible tribute will be entered into the Reaping six times.”

You weren’t able to hear everyone’s whispers, but you could see them looking at each other, taking in the news.

Coriolanus concluded his speech by introducing Dr. Gaul’s assistant, as the Head Gamemaker had something come up rendering her unable to attend the gala.

When he returned to your side, you looked him up and down. “Some updates, huh? Whose idea were they?”

Coriolanus had a smirk on his face, simply bringing his glass of posca to his lips.

-----

After all of the speeches were finished, some music began to play, letting the now tipsy and drunk Capitol elite take the dancefloor with eager steps.

Lucky Flickerman meandered over to where you and Coriolanus were still seated, discussing what Tigris deserved for her upcoming birthday.

“Not going to share a dance tonight?” He asked, looking between the two of you.

“Oh, Lucky, you should now, we don’t really dance. Only for the most special of occasions.” Coriolanus smiled, twisting the wedding band around his finger.

You wore a matching smile, though your reply wasn’t quite what Lucky expected. “And besides, Lucky, I’m not the best dancer if I can’t hear the music. You should have seen the first time we tried to dance together in the Academy.”

The mustached man opened his mouth like he was going to reply, but nothing came out except for a chuckle.

Coriolanus hid his smile behind the glass of water he had switched to, not able to tolerate the posca and wine like he had before.

It was one of his favorite moments after you two had officially started dating. The Academy had their annual prom, though it tended to be more of a fashion show than dance, as many students arrived in extravagant outfits that were ill-suited for dancing.

You had been in a sparking silver dress, heels a gift from your mother, red-tinted lips dropping when Coriolanus asked you to dance with him.

It had been enough missteps to last a lifetime, but the two of you took it in stride, promising each other to get a proper dance instructor before your first dance at the wedding years later.

“I do hate to break up the fond memory, honey, but we should be heading out.”

Coriolanus downed the rest of his water before standing, lending you his arm as you two bid goodnight to your friends and Coriolanus’ closest colleagues, before disappearing from the gala.

-----

You walked out of the bathroom from taking your makeup off to see Coriolanus sitting on the bed, sheets pulled back for your arrival.

“Who are you thinking will be the Capitol’s representative for the Reaping?” You asked, mind still going back to the Reaping updates.

Coriolanus closed the book he was reading, eyes looking you up and down as you climbed into the bed. “I don’t know yet. Why, do you have anyone in mind?”

You shrugged, pulling the sheets up to your chest, yawn escaping your lips. “No one in particular, but I’m sure I could come up with some names.”

Coriolanus laughed, setting his book on the nightstand next to him. “We can talk about it when you’re not going to fall asleep in mere minutes. Goodnight, love.”

“Mm, ‘night, Coryo.” You whispered, letting Coriolanus’ soft breathing and the distant sounds of sirens lull you to sleep.

-----

a/n: hey was this good should i do more in this universe let me know

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #hunger games imagine #hunger games tbosas #hunger games x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow #deaf!reader

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spacedace · 2 years

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So I have an idea for a dp x dc fic and I'm going to throw it here since i need to get it out of my head and i'm not sure i'll ever actually write it (and as always if anyone finds my rambles interesting any/all of it us up for grabs to run with):

Elle ends up crashing into the DC universe while exploring, but despite all the dimension/multivariate nonsense that always goes down (or maybe because of it) she can't actually get back, and the levels of ectoplasm are a lot lower than most dimensions which weakens her quite a bit.

There's enough for her to survive, and use her powers a little bit, but using them too much makes her get really weak/maybe even causes serious harm depending on how much she uses.

She finds this out when she tries to open a portal home and both fails to open the portal & passes out as a result of trying. Cut to Elle waking up in Cadmus and realizing "ah, fucked up unethical science, I am familiar with this fuckery" and escapes.

In the process of escaping she comes across Kon, who isn't "finished" yet. He's alive and aged up to a teenager, but isn't quite done with his programming/whatever (this idea came to me based entirely off what I've gleaned through fandom so I don't know the canon of Kon's whole time with Cadmus). Elle immediately realizes "Oh clone baby, that's not good" and breaks him out and takes him with her.

Kon in this doesn't know he's a clone of Superman, he doesn't know a lot of things considering how early into the clone info-dumling process he was in when Elle broke him out. He barely knows language and how to read. What he does know for sure though is that Cadmus is Bad and Getting the Fuck Out is Good so he's down to go with Elle

Queue them becoming friends and being on the run together, learning about this world/dimension together and coming to see each other as family. Eventually they end up in Gotham because it's one of the places that naturally has a higher ectopalsm level and because if you're in the right area no one cares if you have no legal ID (in some circles it's a plus).

Kon gets a lot of odd jobs before eventually ending up working at a strip club or burlesque bar or something (my idea is that it's years after escaping so he's in his early 20s at this point and not just a fresh baby clone anymore and he gets into it because he likes it and it's good money) while Elle uses her ghostly knowledge/what powers she can to work as like a psychic or something like that.

Meanwhile Justice League (with alive again Superman) have found out about the escaped Superman clone and, along with Cadmus, are desperately trying to track him down. The info they have is a bit murky, so they think it's actually *two* clones, one that had Martian dnd also thrown in to the mix based off a short clip they managed to find of Elle phasing through walls.

My idea is that it'd all finally come to a head when Constantine pulls Tim (and maybe also Damian) in on a JL Dark case that involves the Lazerus Pit and for reasons ends up having to hire Elle to help. I'm thinking it's a thing that Elle is a pretty respected name in certain magic circles due to her expert knowledge on the Infinite Realms, though she refuses to work for most people who seek her out - even though the money would be good - because usually it's only evil assholes that want to hire her.

She makes a deal with Jon to help (in exchange for something that would let her get a message to Danny letting him know what happened or something like that) and Kon joins in because there's no way he's trusting a dude Elle calls the "drunk soul slut" with his baby sister unattended, he doesn't *care* if she could handle herself it's not happening.

Anyway, Tim/Kon (and maybe some Damian/Elle) shenanigans during a Lazerus Pit/demon hunting road trip where eventually everyone figures out who Kon & Elle are, Elle manages to get a stable portal setup so she can go home and come back whenever she wants (Kon getting adopted by Danny? Kon getting adopted by Danny) and Kon joining Young Justice and having a good relationship with Clark (who had a lot more time to deal with things before meeting Kon and learned about him as a person before learning he was Clark's clone).

Anyway there would be a scene at the end where Kon would be in his superhero suit for the first time and just:

Clark: Did you choose a hero name yet?

Kon: Yeah, I figured I'd go with Supernova.

Clark, feeling touched: Yeah? Any particular reason?

Kon: It's cool, it has 'Super' in the name, and really it just seemed the easiest option, I'm used to responding to Nova, so *shrugs*

Clark: Yeah? Why's that? Nickname?

Kon: I guess kinda? It's my stage name at the strip club I work at

Clark: what

Tim, brain shut down by this revelation: ...do you do private shows?

Clark: w h a t

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cursedonyx · 11 months

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So I had a little realisation about our favourite freckled heathen and his unending cheer and charm.

I think we can all agree that part of Sebastian’s allure is that he is so resolutely cheerful, especially in the first half of the game. He’s upbeat, charming, cheeky and extroverted, always smiling and willing to help. He loses the duelling match against you in DADA with more grace than a 15–16-year-old should reasonably have (especially considering Ominis is absolutely steaming in the background because Hecat almost made him fall over) and he’s willing to take the fall for you in the library, being cheerful with you again the next time you meet.

Sure, he has his moments, like when Solomon yells at him. But instead of engaging in an all-out brawl or screaming match, he removes himself from the situation and asks for a moment alone, presumably to calm down. A very mature thing to do.

It’s only when the relic (and likely Slytherin’s book as well) corrupts him that we see him be more on edge, snappier, more prone to temper.

Sebastian’s constant cheer and charm would lead a lot of people to think that he’s unbreakable, that he could be run over by a rampaging hippogriff and he’d just dust himself off and carry on with a smile and a laugh. And he probably would.

The thing is, that kind of constant cheer is likely down to his highly abusive childhood.

Hear me out.

We know that his parents died before he and Anne got their magic, which, according to canon, is usually around seven years old. So they would have been six or younger when their parents died, but for some reason, I think of it as being about five. Old enough to have precious memories of their parents, but still very young and impressionable.

We all know that Solomon never wanted to take the Sallow twins on, and harbours some insane resentment to the situation they’re in: an ex-Auror now living alone and essentially working as a farmer (he can be seen tilling the fields in Feldcroft) suddenly lumbered with two very small children who have just suffered massive emotional trauma, and he’s not equipped to deal with that. So he takes it out on Sebastian, who resembles the brother he presumably strongly disliked.

Whilst Anne is said to have been the most mischievous one out of her, Sebastian and Ominis, I think Sebastian is the most emotional. He likely would have been prone to let his feelings show, especially as a child, but Solomon wouldn’t have wanted to or been able to deal with that.

The thing is, resolutely tough, cheerful people have often been taught from a very young age that their negative emotions aren’t important. That their feelings are a nuisance. That they will be punished for expressing them, whether that’s through physical correction, emotional manipulation, or the removal of affection/attention. I fully expect that the grieving young Sebastian will have been told by Solomon to shut up and sit down and stop snivelling, or to behave, or to act like a man because he didn’t want to deal with it.

Sebastian will have learned to hide his negative emotions, supressing them in favour of trying to be happy to keep Solomon happy; a far preferable situation for him than antagonising the angry man who’s been angry since his parents died. It's possible Sebastian tried to be strong for Anne as well, who I expect would have withdrawn a lot, and as he loves her so much, he would want his twin to be happy, so he was happy for the both of them and did his best to cheer her up.

Being cheerful is safe. Being cheerful is a kind of protective blanket. Because if he lets himself feel all the hurt and the scary and the bad, he won't know how to handle it, so he doesn't. He just keeps smiling.

Sebastian will have unintentionally learned from a young age, or been deliberately trained to hide or mask his negative emotions at all costs, because the price for displaying them has always been serious consequences. But because he bottles it all up, when he breaks, he breaks hard. When his last-ditch attempt to save Anne with the relic fails, he breaks. Every bit of strength he had is gone, and he's left scrambling in an unfamiliar overload of pain and panic.

And when he has some time to think it through, the effects of the relic wearing off, he's truly remorseful for everything and eternally grateful that you're still his friend. Even before then, when you have to decide whether or not to turn him in, he tells you he's glad he met you, trying to fall back on those last threads of positivity that have held him up before.

That poor lad needs as much love and therapy as our lil blind bestie does.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt

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rosabell14 · 2 months

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An analysis of Bianca di Angelo's role in the narrative and why bad writing can screw over a character.

For someone with such a limited time in the narrative, Bianca is one of the most divisive characters in the fandom. I've been in the fandom long enough to see how much nuance the fandom lacks when discussing certain characters and Bianca is no difference. But it's more than just viewing the characters' actions in a vacuum. It's ignoring the larger narrative problems. At the end of the day Bianca suffers from one simple problem: she's barely a character outside of her role in Nico's narrative. Like it or not, her entire character exists to die and give Nico issues down the road but Riordan's writing decisions didn't do her any favours either.

I feel like this is a huge issue when it comes to the pjo fandom they often try to come up with Watsonian solutions to problems that are Doylist in nature and Bianca is one example of that.

Case in point: Riordan's shit math when it comes to the Di Angelo siblings and how it messes up with bianca's character.

So when we meet them they're 10 and 12. We learn that their memories of their past is kinda hazy and that they don't remember their parents but that they were in a boarding school, then they moved to the lotus hotel, then they were taken out of the hotel and put into Westover's. And at the end we learn that they're Hades's children born before the oath of the big 3.

Said oath happened after WW2 btw. So 1945 probably since Bianca remembers FDR's presidency.

Now in TLO we get an update on this backstory. Hades is speaking to Maria about moving his children to the underworld or the lotus hotel since Maria doesn't like the former option because the war has put Hades in a bad situation with his brothers and also the prophecy is out, the oath has been taken and they're running out of time to hide the kids. So logic says that it's 1945. And then Zeus immediately kills Maria and Hades tells Alecto to erase the children's memories and put them in the lotus hotel, and honestly? I like this version much better? Because why in the world would Hades Put his children in a boarding school for a few years and THEN hide them in the hotel after they were nearly assassinated? Why not immediately put them in the hotel?

And so we get to our main dilemma. Bianca having to raise Nico. This was already strange to me because it's not as if this is a Jason and Thalia situation where Jason was a toddler and Thalia had to take care of him. Nico is not a baby they have a two year age difference. But of course these kinds of things might matter more if you're young. Even then, in what situation would Bianca be Nico's main caretaker? They were put into a magic hotel that mind you, makes time go faster so for them it was a month or two at best and they would have been given whatever they needed by the staff? Same type of issue with Westover's and the boarding school if you want consider that canon. They would have been taken care of by the facility. They probably wouldn't even have shared classes or dorms? Or am I misunderstanding American boarding schools?

And then, Riordan's bad math strikes again and this time with the characters' ages. Because Nico's age in HoO becomes 14 which would have made him 11/almost 12 in TTC but that's not the big problem, no no no. The problem comes from his official birthday which is 1932.

1932... Which would have made him 13 and Bianca 15 by the time Maria dies. Which is hilarious because with the way the kids are written during her death scene as absolute non players with nary a reaction, you would think they were written to be toddlers who didn't understand anything that was going on.

That royally screws over Bianca as a character (and me as someone who's trying to write a story centered around her). Because her main thing. The one time she's allowed to have complexity is the moment where she talks about how she wants to be more than Nico's caretaker, and she's barely Nico's caretaker at all. The best in universe explanation I can come up for this is that this is how Bianca perceives things because that's all that she literally remembers. Those months in the hotel and Westovers.

Another time the plot kinda messes her up is at the beginning of TTC. One complaint that I often see in regards to her Is how quickly she makes her decision. She does not even hesitate. She does not even wait to see the camp. You know the place that would have taken care of her and Nico which would have meant she wasn't going to be his supposed primary caretaker anymore? She doesn't even wait to see if it was an actual good place for her brother? Spoiler alert: it's not camp half-blood at the time was not a good place for either of them really. Nico did not have a cabin at camp and people were not accepting of him. Hell, people not being accepting of hades and his children was something established since the first book.

But once again, this is a Doylist problem at its core. We need to turn Bianca into a hunter but we also need Artemis to leave so that she can be kidnapped for the main conflict, so she leaves before the hunters even reach camp. Half-blood. So Bianca as a character doesn't even get to make a proper choice between the camp and the hunters. To people who only look at characters on an in universe level, it comes off as very rash and not well thought out.

To be fair, on an in universe level, she's a kid so it's okay if she's stupid, but Riordan wasn't trying to make her come off as that way? He treats Bianca's decision as a legit serious choice and not the rash decision of a desperate child.

And once again, Bianca is here for Nico's sake more than anything. She needs to die. So she takes the statue for Nico. Which is so ironic and tragic if you decide to play it that way. That Bianca wanted to be more than Nico's sister, but her literal death revolves around being his sister. Normally I'd enjoy this level of angsty irony but unfortunately that's how the very narrative treats her as well. Even her post mortem decisions are there to maximize Nico's angst more than that they're there to say anything about Bianca herself. We need Bianca to only appear at the end of Botl so that Nico and Percy can have a conflict but it once again comes at the cost of Bianca herself coming off as callous. What's the in universe reason for this behavior? It's so stupid because in universe, Nico doesn't even take that much convincing? One conversation. One conversation and Nico was convinced to stop his efforts in reviving her. Does she just not know her brother enough? Maybe since they technically know each other for a year max. Does she genuinely think she's that easy to give up on? Is she that conflict avoidant? I actually like this interpretation and plan to use it. There's much to be done with a character who's rash and bold but an absolute emotional coward who'd try to avoid an emotionally charged conversation until they absolutely can't.

Hell even after Botl, it's the same song and dance. Hades makes an absolute vile remark at Nico's expense. TSATS makes it into a joke moment and has you believe that Hades simple said that Bianca would have been a better demigod. No ladies and gentlemen. Hades literally tells Nico that he wished Bianca had survived instead.(The fact that I still think that hades is the best godly parent just shows you how low the bar is more than anything.)

I swear to God I spent so much time racking my brain trying to understand what this could mean for Bianca's character.

This is how I basically look like trying to milk every scene where Bianca is there as a character or is mentioned for every drop of characterization.

At the end of the day, I can't blame most of the fandom for being ambivalent towards her at best. The story by design is about Nico. It's designed for you to sympathize with him and yeah if I'm to look at it from Nico's perspective. He DID get abandoned, regardless of Bianca's intentions. From his Perspective , which is the one most people would take, his sister took the very first chance she could to ditch him for people she barely knew hoping people either of them barely knew would take care of him even though they haven't even seen the place yet, and then ignored him for months while he was desperate for a single conversation with her. Honestly had Nico outright resented his sister for leaving, I think the reaction towards her would have even been worse.

(Another sidenote, my very hot tea Is that I like to believe that had Bianca lived her and Nico's relationship would have become worse as time went on and as the camp's anti hades sentiments really started taking their toll on Nico. But I'm just an angst lover)

Worse is that this story is told from Percy's perspective and these two only have like 3 actual conversations together. One of them is her dying, one is about her making her first main decision and that's at the expense of Nico who's probably the fandom favorite behind Percy and Annabeth and the other is her trying to explain her aforementioned decision to Percy and even then, she talks about it in such broad strokes. "I want to be more than X" tells us about who you one day wish to be not about who you are at the current moment. And even when we have Nico as a POV character, Bianca is only there for "dead family member" trope. There's barely any moment where Nico remembers anything important about her to give her any depth. The cards are just stacked against her. Even the people who are at the "Bianca did nothing wrong camp" are barely interested in her. I swear to god whenever an AU comes up where she's alive, the focus is STILL on Nico. Oh Nico would have been such a happy person had she lived! And Bianca? Uhhhhh she would have fucked off with the hunters I guess?

Can we talk about the hunters while we're here?

If we WERE to talk about in universe scapegoats, I'd honestly choose the hunters. Honestly I could make a separate post about how much I hate how Riordan handled them. But oh dear God the way they're presented just comes off as creepy. The way they initially (up until TOA) only go for young girls because apparently older girls aren't useful once they hit puberty and start developing feelings for people and lose themselves(TTC and Percy Jackson's Greek gods oh dear lord are they terrible in Percy Jackson's Greek gods). How they're basically the heroine dumping ground for when Riordan doesn't know what to do with a female character. How ultimately in universe, Zoe more than anyone is to blame to for Bianca's death by taking an untrained girl to a mission where she KNOWS two people would die at the very least. And she doesn't even watch her properly during the mission. Honestly I could barely feel anything about Zoe's death upon rereads as an adult for this very reason. Or how stupid it is to basically put a child in front of a candy store and expect them to make a responsible decision. Who in their right mind would have young girls as young as nine take a celibacy vow? Oh but you'll be safe with us (never mind that we're not just normal hunters here like the actual myths but actual monster hunters) and you'll totally be able to see your brother when you want (actually we barely visit camp half-blood) oh but you'll be a FAMILY with us! Except you know if you catch feelings or get assaulted(holy hell how Riordan depicts the myth of Callisto makes me want to tear my hair out of my scalp)

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