#Defender Strange head canons

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

You know I gotta ask about my dilfy, Shakespearian babe, Defender. Reread "No Defense for the Heart" the other day, and you write him so romantically, I gotta do a few. 💖

☾ - sleep headcanon

✿ - sex headcanon

♡ - romantic headcanon

♒ - cooking/food headcanon

Thank you so, so much - I love Defender an unfathomable amount, and he presents an exquisite canvas upon which to paint my ideal romantic qualities!💖🖤💖

☾ - sleep headcanon

617 Stephen perfected the art of maximizing his sleep time during grad school (getting his MD & PhD at the same time necessitated it), and that skill served him well during his internship and residency. Basically, he trained himself to fall asleep just about anywhere and anytime he could. Now, with the great demands on his time, as both the Sorcerer Supreme and leader of the Defenders, he has even less time than ever before--so when the chance for several hours uninterrupted sleep arises, he seizes it with great relish. Sleeping deeply while experiencing dreams he can often recall with great clarity. Such sleep--whose ultimate purpose is to enable him to better serve his responsibilities--refreshes him beyond any in his life. Perhaps we should call it the 'sleep of hte just'.😉

✿ - sex headcanon

Defender was always a man of rich appetites, and so had never stinted from drinking fully of whatever cup came his way. Which was fine in his life as medical student and then doctor--but now he chooses an ascetic lifestyle so that his energies can be directed more fully to his mission. Yet still, he possesses a powerful sex drive--and all that honing his body into a powerful weapon in service to good, has resulted in a stamina he rarely has time to expend.

Ah, but when he does!

When he does, he lavishes waves and waves of pleasure and ecstasy upon his lucky lover. Devotes himself to pleasing them before he fulfills his own pressing need. Takes supreme satisfaction and pride in wringing multiple orgasms from their flesh with his skilled fingers and sensual mouth, reveling in the sinful taste of them and in their moans and the sound of his name cried out like their truest prayer as they peak. He delights in being the one in control and in how softly his lover concedes herself to him. Only then does he seek his own resolution, setting a breathtaking rhythm as deeply inside as he can get, spilling himself with abandon (he prefers unprotected sex, but will wear a condom at the lady's request). Afterwards, he lingers inside her for as long as possible, for the reality of that physical connection is too beautiful to forgo until he absolutely must.

Defender adores the act of cockwarming, but will always ask first if it's alright to indulge in. And if he ever goes a bit rough in his enthusiasm when he fucks, his aftercare is the loving offering he gives to prove the depth of his devotion.

The man he is now--the man he was always meant to be--views romantic love and sex as inextricably bound. And he wouldn't want it any other way.

♡ - romantic headcanon

Stephen has always had the gift of a deep and romantic heart--and although he hasn't always allowed himself to follow it's inclinations due to the circumstances at the time, he sees the world through loving eyes. He fell easily in love as a teen and young adult. Wrote poetry (usually kept secret) for the girl/woman of his affection, used music as a means of romantic expression. Taught himself to play the guitar for that very reason, in fact (his mother taught him to play the piano as a child, and he was good enough to briefly consider making it his career, until his heart directed him to saving lives through medicine).

With his patrician good looks and easy charm, pre-accident Defender had a score of lovers--mostly short term--in his past. Though contradictory to his deeply romantic nature, he found it best to avoid entanglements of the heart as he single-mindedly pursued his goal of innovating the science of neurosurgery. He had so much to do, and so little time in those days, that he couldn't allow himself such a beautiful distraction. That was until Christine of course.

But by that time, he had become out of practice with allowing himself to be vulnerable, of speaking the truth of his heart, of trusting that he was as worthy of the love he felt for her to show her properly and let her love him in return. Once he realized he could and should, the weight of his life-altering responsibilities precluded that. He'd always hoped one day they might yet get it right, when things calmed down, when he finally had time. When she would see past his ineptitude and failure to say and show her the things she deserved, and finally claim what had been hers all along. But along came Charlie.

The most devastating lesson of Stephen's life--for his romantic nature could only experience that heartbreak as even worse than the loss of his hands.

But like the most hopelessly romantic among us, though his heart bears its scars, Stephen still believes that one day he'll find someone to love and be loved by again. He's confident he won't be repeating the mistakes of his past--for he has vowed he will follow his heart completely the next time.

♒ - cooking/food headcanon

In his old life, Stephen could afford to frequent the finest restaurants in the City, and his work gave him the excuse to do minimal cooking for himself. After the accident and the depletion of his fortune, he had to resort to much simpler choices. Lots of meatless days, lots of pasta or rice because they were the most filling. Before he found his way to Kamar-Taj--where the kitchens were always open for Masters and students alike to use between meals--he'd had to frequent soup kitchens to keep from going days at a time without eating. What a humbling experience that was!

The first night he availed himself of the smaller compound kitchen (he'd been deep in study of texts on interdimensional energies and had missed supper completely) he'd made himself a simple grilled cheese sandwich. And wept as he ate it, to realize the gift of the freedom and luxury which the haven of Kamar-Taj now provided him.

These days, the Sorcerer Supreme enjoys cooking for himself on quiet nights as a means to relax. His meals may not be anything to brag about, but Defender made a point of teaching himself at least one dish from every culture represented in the compound's population. He figured it would be useful if there came a student experiencing difficulties or homesickness; Wong keeps him informed of those who might need that extra bit of care, and though such students are admonished not to share the secrets of their meals with the Sorcerer Supreme, with others, it soon became common knowledge that a summons to meet with him after the cafeteria was closed for the night, meant they'd be experiencing a taste of home.

And since the success of his little program, Stephen finds the most satisfying meals he makes are those meant as gifs to others.

Ohmygosh, writing these for Defender has been a most satisfying experience of it's own! Thank you once more @thealleydog for prompting me to put these instinctive headcanons into words.

🥰🦋🥰

HEADCANON MEME

[flowerandblood]

The Song of Loneliness

The Fall from The Heavens Universe Chapter

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: masturbation, sexual tension, smut, angst, trauma related to sexual experiences and their description, sexual experience of a minor (brothel), manipulation, swearing, description of discomfort associated with menstruation ]

[ description: The events that took place between the beginning and the end of chapter two of The Fall from the Heavens, i.e. the memories of Aemond and Rhaenys as children and later, just before their reunion after many years. ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

- ✦ - ✦ - ✦ Rhaenys ✦ - ✦ - ✦ -

"Where are we going?" He asked uncertainly, seeing her excited face, which meant she had a plan in her mind that he might not like. Her lips curved into a wide, happy smile at the thought.

"To the Dragon's Pit." She explained, and her uncle froze in half-motion and stopped.

"I don't want to." He replied coldly.

She looked at him in surprise, seeing his discouraged, distant gaze, his jaw clenched in discomfort.

"Don't you trust me?" She asked softly, bestowing on him a comforting, warm smile, meant to add credibility to her attitude. Her betrothed swallowed hard and hesitated, pressing his lips into a thin line.

"– I – well – I do –" He muttered finally, defeated.

Although she tried to converse with him on various light topics that usually aroused his interest, such as their lineage or history, her uncle remained sullen and silent, gazing indifferently out the window of the carriage that had taken them from the Red Keep to their destination.

When they stepped outside, the dragon guardians were already waiting for them, assuring her that everything was ready.

Larax squirmed with joy at the sight of her, the sound she made reminding her of the squeal of a small child – she was still quite tiny, her silver-blue scales shining as she swept her wings, hopping in place as if to show her how happy she was to see her.

She was like a puppy that could breathe fire.

Her uncle seemed shocked – he walked a few steps behind her, aloof but intrigued at the same time. Her dragoness, although wearing a long chain around her neck, had quite a lot of freedom of movement and came running to her as soon as she knelt down in front of her, cuddling her head into her breast. She lifted her gaze to her betrothed, smiling.

"Marriage is sharing everything, becoming one. This means that Larax belongs to you from now on as well, and I wanted you to get acquainted." She said excitedly.

Her uncle swallowed hard, clearly shocked, his lips twitching in a shy smile of disbelief, from which heat filled her heart.

He knelt down beside her, but stepped back immediately, frightened as Larax hissed, in her dragon mind defending her from the strange intruder.

"Daor, Larax! Lykiri! Lykiri." She called out, stroking her back reassuringly, wanting her to understand that they were in no danger.

"– give me your hand –" She said softly, extending her palm to him. Her uncle allowed her to take his fingers in hers, and after a moment, keeping them entwined together, she placed his hand on her head.

Feeling the familiar and unfamiliar scent at the same time, Larax froze, breathing anxiously, as if wondering how she should react. She could hear her uncle's heavy, excited breath behind her as she began to stroke her scales with his palm in soft, slow movements.

Larax calmed down after a moment, recognising that, indeed, the small creature that accompanied her rider was no threat to them. She laid her head on her thigh, gazing at the strange newcomer, and she let go of his hand, allowing him to touch her alone.

Her betrothed leaned slightly over her shoulder to get a better look at her dragoness, keeping a safe distance, however, so as not to provoke her.

"– what do you think of her? –" She asked lightly.

Her uncle was silent for a long moment, stunned.

"– she is beautiful –"

- ✦ - ✦ - ✦ Aemond ✦ - ✦ - ✦ -

"A man should not run after a woman, Your Grace. It's a sign of desperation and weakness not befitting your position." Criston Cole said to him coolly, taking him aside after one of their trainings in the courtyard.

He had hurt her by not letting her kiss his cheek in the presence of the others and he just wanted to fix that, make her smile again.

He swallowed hard, feeling a wave of shame and discomfort fill his lower abdomen at his harsh words and impatient gaze.

"– she's good to me – I just didn't want her to be sad – we're betrothed –" He muttered, looking at the ground beneath his feet, embarrassed by this conversation.

Cristone Cole looked away and shook his head, as if he didn't believe what he was hearing.

"– it's just appearances, my Prince – her mother wants her to manipulate you and push you away from your brother and your family –" He replied dryly, and his words left him stunned.

"– she had never –"

"– only a naïve man allows a woman to rule over his mind – keep your dignity and do not allow her into your heart as anyone other than the mother of your future children –"

For some reason, his words and their overtones hurt him deeply and he himself did not know what he should do, what was expected of him.

The septon had always told him that a good husband looks out for the safety and well-being of his wife, listens to her, and sometimes allows himself to be weak in her arms in order to experience relief.

He said that if his wife reciprocates his endeavours, their marriage will be peaceful and successful.

Indeed, by following these rules and observing her efforts towards him, he felt a pleasant contentment and satisfaction. His niece did not impose on him or order him to change his habits, just as he did not require her to do so.

What's more, she supported him every step of the way in his daily duties, and in moments of sadness or fear, which he refused to admit out loud, she allowed him to take refuge in the warm embrace of her soft arms.

The thought that he should reject all this and build a wall between them seemed to him, despite all his doubts, inappropriate and hurtful to her when she was trying so hard to make him content.

He decided that when she came to his chamber at night he would tell her not to do it again and send her away.

She, as soon as she crossed the threshold of his quarters, ran to his bed and jumped onto the sheets, hiding under the soft, warm furs at his side, sighing in relief, immediately snuggling into his body. He swallowed hard, feeling a pleasant shiver run down his spine, and thought they could lie like that for a while before he told her of his decision.

"– I am grateful to you for being so good to me –" She whispered, lifting her head, wanting to look at him. He nodded, not embracing her as was his usual habit, looking dully ahead. She raised herself on her arm, seeing his complete lack of reaction at her words, frowning.

"– uncle? – is something bothering you? – you can tell me –" She added immediately, moving closer to him, leaning over his face – her eyes were shining in the darkness of his chamber, her dark brows arched in sadness and worry at his condition.

He swallowed hard, looking at her with his lips parted, his hand involuntarily touching her cheek.

It was soft and warm.

Do not come here again.

He thought that phrase in his head, but instead his hand forced her to lean in, her moist, puffy lips pressed against his in a soft, soothing kiss.

He could feel his heart pounding fast, how hot he was with excitement, how his whole body screamed that this was what he wanted, this was what he needed.

Her, as close as possible.

He hugged her to his chest, pressing her face to his neck, and closed his eyes.

"– it's nothing –"

- ✦ - ✦ - ✦ Rhaenys ✦ - ✦ - ✦ -

"I would like to discuss with you… a delicate matter." Said her mother, sitting down next to her a few months after the King had announced her betrothal to her uncle. She nodded, sensing that she was about to hear something important.

"I want you to understand that your nuptials with Alicent's son and what they entail will not take place until you reach the age of fourteen." She said slowly, as if she wanted her daughter to understand exactly every word she spoke.

She nodded her head slowly, looking at her with big eyes, pressing her lips together in some kind of disappointment.

"Why do I have to wait so long?" She asked uncertainly – her mother twisted restlessly in her chair, placing her hand over hers.

"My love, Aegon… from what I've heard, I know he likes the company of girls. That he likes to touch them in places that only a husband can touch his wife. I wanted to ask if his brother, and your betrothed, is also trying…" She did not finish, clearly not knowing how to put into words what she wanted to convey to her.

She cocked her head, curious, understanding after a moment what she meant.

"– does my uncle slip his hand under my nightgown? –" She asked lightly, her mother squeezed her hand tighter at her words, turning pale.

"– yes – yes, my love –"

She shook her head quickly, and Rhaenyra sighed in relief, clenching her eyes.

"– no – but sometimes, when we're alone and we're happy, our lips meet –" She muttered, embarrassed, swinging her legs sitting on a chair that was too high for her.

Her mother laughed under her breath.

"– I see –"

"– is it a sin? – can I expect his child because of this? –" She mumbled out quickly, choking out what she had wanted to ask her for a long time, terrified of the disgrace she would bring upon her betrothed if it turned out that she was carrying his illegitimate offspring.

Rhaenyra burst out laughing, shaking her head, her hand stroking her hair affectionately.

"– no, my love – it is merely a tender expression of affection that can be shared with one's betrothed –" Her mother replied calmly, and she smiled broadly, comforted and reassured, thinking that she would place many warm, sweet kisses on her betrothed's lips that evening.

- ✦ - ✦ - ✦ Aemond ✦ - ✦ - ✦ -

"– no – forgive me, Princess, but it is impossible – your request is unworthy of a lady –" He heard Criston Cole's voice directed towards his betrothed as he stepped out into the courtyard as he did every morning – he escorted her away with a surprised, uneasy look as she nodded her head and walked away, without bestowing even a single warm word on him, as was her custom.

He did not dare to ask Ser Criston what she was requesting; he found out later, when, concerned by her absence in the library, he paid her a visit in her chamber.

She was lying on her bed, her face red from the tears she had surely shed immediately after their brief exchange of words – she was no longer crying now, but her eyebrows arched in pain when he asked her what had happened.

"– my mother gave me a dagger so I could defend myself when I am alone – but what good is it to me if I can't use it? – I wanted Ser Criston to teach me how to hold it – I wanted to be like your Visenya –" She confessed sadly, her last words like a mumble, her eyes flooded with tears again as she burst into sobs.

He stared at her with wide eyes, not knowing completely what to say or think about her unusual request.

She was a woman and the image of her holding a weapon seemed unnecessary and ridiculous to him, however, her words planted a seed of uncertainty in his heart.

What if someone harms her in his absence?

Threaten her life?

Once he was her husband, he thought, he would be her protector by day and night, but until they were married, he could not fulfil that role.

He left her chamber, making her think for certain that he now despised her as well, he, however, returned a moment later with a small straw target in the shape of a man with spots marked on his body. His niece rose on her hands, looking at him with big eyes as the door closed behind him.

"– come here – I will teach you the basics –" He muttered lowly, serious, feeling a pleasant satisfaction at the thought that he would now be her teacher and she would have to obey him.

His betrothed beamed all over, a light, sweet giggle left her lips that made him hot.

"– turn your back on me –" She ordered cheerfully.

"– why? –" He asked.

"– my dagger is hidden only in a place known to me – not even you can know where it is –" She said in an unobjectionable voice – he sighed and rolled his eyes, turning away reluctantly, impatient.

He heard a creak and a quiet rustling, and a moment later his niece was standing beside him with a beautiful short dagger created from Valyrian steel, with a handle in the shape of a dragon's tail, holding it as if she were wielding an axe.

"– you're holding it the wrong way – lower it so that the blade is in horizontal position – yes, just like that –" He praised her as he grabbed her wrist and forced her to lower her arm. She nodded, apparently writing down in her head this important remark.

"– the main rule is: don't cut as if you have a sword, because your opponent will grab your wrist and snatch your weapon away – just stab – at your height, preferably in the stomach or thighs, right here –" He said, demonstrating the move she should make by pretending as if he had the weapon, hitting the spots he mentioned with the front of his clenched fist.

He stepped back and watched with wide-open eyes as his niece, with an expression of great fierceness and anger, began to stab the hay puppet, as if she actually imagined that it was someone who wanted to harm her.

"– enough – enough, surely it's already dead –" He muttered, pulling her away, looking at her in disbelief, thinking that with such a commitment perhaps she would even be able to wield a sword.

"– did I do it well, uncle? –" She asked excitedly, curls of her hair stuck to her cheeks red with emotion.

"– yes – very well –"

- ✦ - ✦ - ✦ Rhaenys ✦ - ✦ - ✦ -

After her uncle lost an eye and her mother remarried, they stopped visiting the Red Keep. Her betrothed, to her despair, did not write back to her first letter or the many that followed, in which she asked him about his health and when she would be able to see him again.

Accustomed to his daily presence, despite being surrounded by her siblings, she felt lonely. Her bed was cold and empty without his warm body beside her, without his tender hand to stroke her head as she fearfully awoke again and again from a terrible nightmares.

One morning she woke up feeling discomfort between her thighs. She moved higher, wanting to look at the liquid that covered her skin and screamed involuntarily when she saw it was blood.

Her mother, as soon as she found out, came to reassure her.

"Do you remember our conversation when I told you that a woman blooms like a flower? This is what has just happened. It means you will be able to give your future husband children." Said her mother, covering her tightly with furs, already lying in a clean nightgown and smallclothes to prevent her from dirtying the bedding again.

She nodded, and as soon as Rhaenyra left, she broke into tears.

Although it was supposed to be an uplifting moment, it wasn't at all – she felt discomfort and contractions in her lower abdomen, she didn't have the strength to get out of bed, and she felt blood flowing again and again from between her thighs.

She thought it was a disgusting feeling, and she felt even worse at the thought that it meant she would soon be ready to get married.

Her betrothed didn't want her, and her mother began to speak more and more boldly about her possible nuptials with her cousin.

She closed her eyes at this thought and swallowed hard, holding back the tears of regret that were again pushing against her eyelids.

That day she took out the parchment and quill again, thinking in the back of her mind that even if he threw her letters into the fire and didn't read them, she needed to confide in someone and she wanted it to be him.

She began to write, for the first time not thinking about the content of what she had to communicate, letting her thoughts flow.

Today, something terrible happened, and although I know these things don't concern you or may even cause you disgust, I can't confide in anyone else about my suffering. My bloody flower has blossomed. My mother says that I have now become a woman, but I feel nothing of the sort. I feel dirty, I feel pain, I feel ashamed. I don't want to be a woman. I don't want to be a wife. I don't want to be a mother.

She cried out loud as she wrote the last sentence and rolled the parchment up, ordering it to be sent to King's Landing into the hands of the Prince before she could change her mind.

- ✦ - ✦ - ✦ Aemond ✦ - ✦ - ✦ -

To his surprise, despite not answering her, he would find her letters waiting for him, lying on the top of his table exactly every two months.

At first he never wanted to read them – he even thought about throwing them into the fire, but then curiosity won out and he would sit down in front of the fireplace, unrolling the parchment.

He read what she had written, imagining her voice, that she stood behind him and whispered it all in his ear, embracing him, confiding in him.

He felt a squeeze in his heart, feeling the suffering behind every letter she wrote down for him, her expression of longing and sadness, loneliness and loss.

He himself was more lost than ever.

His brother surprised him when, on his Name Day, when he turned exactly thirteen, he announced to him that it was time to get it wet.

He did not understand what he meant.

It was only when he led him under cover of darkness to one of the buildings he had evidently visited himself that he noticed with embarrassment the curves of the half-naked women they passed, whom Aegon evidently knew, greeting them along the way.

"– we should not be here – our mother –" He muttered, but his brother shushed him.

"– shut your mouth, mummy's boy – today you will become a man –" He hissed, tapping his index finger against his forehead, as if to show him that he was a fool, a silly little boy.

He clenched his jaw in rage at the thought, recognising that, indeed, he was already a grown man.

Or at least he thought he was.

The woman he took him to was pretty, but much older than him.

He thought she could be their mother.

When Aegon left them alone he did not know what to do with himself – he felt both excitement and embarrassment at the same time, not really knowing whether he wanted it or not.

Aegon said that laying with a woman was very pleasant and gave a feeling of immense relief.

He wanted to feel relief.

The woman reached out to him encouragingly, telling him not to be ashamed, to lie comfortably on the bed and let her take care of himself.

He didn't know what she meant, but decided that since she was more experienced, he should listen to her.

The feeling of being inside her was terrifyingly foreign and uncomfortable – he swallowed hard, looking wide-eyed at her stomach, afraid to look at her face, clenching his hands into fists on the sheets.

She has never touched me like this, he thought.

Rhaenys had never touched me like this.

He was furious with himself, but he felt tears burning under his eyelids at the thought, and though he pressed his lips together, one by one they ran down the sides of his face.

"– no –" He muttered and shook his head. "– not like this –"

The woman understood vaguely what he meant, an expression of sympathy on her face from which he felt discomfort in his stomach and throat.

"– Prince Aegon paid me for your fulfilment –"

It wasn't until a few years later that he realised he wasn't even completely hard at the time – that effect was only achieved when she climbed off him and took his manhood in her hand, squeezing it up and down until his warm seed leaked out.

He felt relief, but not the kind he wanted.

In fact, he felt even worse than before.

What would she say if she saw this?

She would be disgusted with me, he thought and cried out loud, walking back to the Red Keep alone, not waiting for Aegon to finish whatever it was he was doing with those girls.

He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to know about it.

When he returned to his chamber, he took out all the letters she had sent him over the years and placed them beside him on his bed. He closed his eyes and was only relieved when he realised that they had soaked up her scent.

The smell of vanilla.

- ✦ - ✦ - ✦ Rhaenys ✦ - ✦ - ✦ -

One day she woke up, breathing fast, feeling a pleasant heat and tickling in her lower abdomen. She dreamt that her uncle had flown to Dragonstone and spent the night with her despite her cries and pleas.

She didn't know what exactly could happen during this act, not being aware of all the details, but she knew that he would put the part of his body that was in his breeches between her thighs to fill her with his seed.

In the dream, his hot, wet lips clung to hers in greedy, possessive kisses, his breath heavy as his broad hands roamed all over her body, squeezing her breasts and buttocks, until he finally forced his way inside her with the sudden, sharp thrust of his hips.

In her sleep, she felt no pain – moreover, his deep, quick pushes and his low groans of pleasure made the space between her thighs swell and pulsate, making her feel tense and uncomfortable as soon as she awoke, drenched in sweat.

She closed her eyes, feeling on the one hand relieved and on the other disappointed that this was not true – the worst part, however, was that the unpleasant, almost painful tickling sensation between her thighs did not go away.

She decided to check with her hand what this place was, what would happen if she touched it.

She tentatively lifted the material of her nightgown and traveled down between her warm thighs – a quiet sigh escaped her lips as her soft fingers stroked her moist, fleshy folds, all leaking and sticky.

She felt a pleasant shiver run along her spine and some kind of tingle deep inside her, her nipples and lips puffy with desire.

She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, digging her fingertips deeper into her soft skin – she shuddered and sighed as she touched the small, swollen bud between her folds – surprised, she found that when she touched it directly, it felt almost painful, but as she began to gently press and rub the area around it, a wonderful wave of heat began to rise in her lower abdomen.

Her breath became heavy as she imagined it was his hand touching her as he came back for her, whispering that he had wanted to do this to her for a long time, that he thought only of her, that he would now take her for himself.

She imagined his hot lips clinging to hers, his fingers sliding deep inside her, wanting to feel her, and she threw her head back with a quiet, surprised moan, feeling a sudden, wonderful relief.

She swallowed hard, realising after a moment that it was her own fingers that had slipped deep into her tight slit, her hot, moist walls clenching around them again and again together with waves of delicious pleasure surging through her whole body.

She stared dully ahead, panting loudly, feeling that as soon as the wonderful sensation passed, a complete and terrifying emptiness filled her heart and mind.

- ✦ - ✦ - ✦ Aemond ✦ - ✦ - ✦ -

After what had happened in the brothel, he would not allow himself to be touched this way by any woman. He told himself that he simply didn't want to experience a similar humiliation, to cry at the thought that the one he fucked wasn't the one he dreamed of at night, but the truth was that even if he wanted to, he couldn't get fully aroused by the sight of another woman.

Even as he watched his servants bustling around his chamber, preparing his morning meal, looking at their pleasingly girlish shapes, their breasts and hips, his musings always fled to one thought.

Was this what her body looked like now?

Blossomed like a flower, full of grace and soft, feminine shapes?

He imagined that her bare skin would be soft as silk under the touch of his rough hand, that she would be obscenely warm, quivering with desire under his body. He imagined her breasts, plump and swollen, filling his palm perfectly, her little nipples that he would like to lick with his tongue.

He pressed his lips together, always feeling the same thing – his manhood swelling painfully and twitching in his breeches, causing him discomfort on the verge of pain.

It ended the same way each time – as soon as he was left alone in his chamber, instead of concentrating on his food, he quickly untied the material and slid his hand under it, grasping his half-hard, throbbing erection.

He began to squeeze it gently, merely teasing it, pressing his lips together, suppressing the shuddering moan of delight that wanted to burst from his throat at the thought that it was her fingers caressing him so wonderfully tenderly, it was her lips whispering that they didn't have to hurry.

He mumbled the name he'd given her himself in his head, feeling the tears welling under his eyelids, thinking with pain how much he missed her, that deep down he didn't loathe her, that all he desired was for her to return.

"– Rhaenys –" He cried out, tears running down his cheeks as his warm seed spilled over his fingers, relief, pleasure and pain surging through his loins at the same time, shaking his body.

He stared at his empty silver plate, panting heavily and pressed his lips together, furious and bitter, then burst out into silent sobs like a small child.

- ✦ - ✦ - ✦ Rhaenys ✦ - ✦ - ✦ -

"– it has come to my knowledge that Alicent has decided to make a pact with Borros Baratheon – she wants Prince Aemond to marry one of his daughters –" Her mother said during one of their suppers together in Dragonstone; she froze, feeling her heart stop in her throat, a cold, unpleasant shiver running down her spine as she raised her gaze to her.

"– we cannot leave this unanswered – after consulting with Daemon, we have together decided that you should marry the son of my dear cousin, Lord Arryn –" She added, taking one of the platters from her husband.

Daemon, seated next to her mother, gave her a quick look in which she seemed to catch a glimpse of sympathy.

She lowered her gaze, feeling her whole body involuntarily begin to tremble, tears of despair and disbelief gathered under her eyelids. She felt Baela's hand on hers, but she pulled away from her and got up from the table, leaving the chamber, bursting into sobs as soon as she ran out into the corridor.

Although she covered her mouth with her hand, she was unable to stop the moans that ripped from her throat or what she saw in her mind.

Him, lying on top of another woman, touching her naked body, whispering in the ear of Lord Baratheon's daughter that she was more beautiful than his niece, that he loved her more deeply than he had ever loved her.

She locked herself in her chamber, wishing to be alone.

She knew Daemon would come to her.

He always came.

As she lay on the bed, staring blankly at the wall in the distance, her father sat by the fireplace, staring thoughtfully into the flames, playing with the ring on his little finger.

"– your mother is doing this for your own good – she couldn't leave this insult unanswered –" He said coldly and maliciously, as if he was impatient with the fact that she was pitying herself.

She did not answer him.

She heard him sigh heavily, tightening his fingers on the base of his nose, bowing his head as if he had no strength for this conversation.

"– my spies in the Red Keep say that he has changed beyond recognition – that he is a cold, cruel man – that he calls you a little whore –" He said indifferently, and she felt a squeeze in her throat, tears of humiliation and pain one by one began to flow down her face.

"– give up your dreams of a man who has already disrespected you for years – his feelings for you have disappeared along with his fucking eye –"

- ✦ - ✦ - ✦ Aemond ✦ - ✦ - ✦ -

"– have you heard the word from Dragonstone, brother? –" Aegon asked him during one of the suppers, his brother's mind and sight already a tad clouded by the wine he so adored.

He threw him a brief, discouraged glance, their mother twisting restlessly in her chair.

"– Aegon –"

"– your would-be betrothed will soon become the Lady of the Eyrie, and her cousin will be given the honour of putting his little cock inside her –" He sneered, and he felt his jaw and hands clench, a shiver of discomfort, horror and humiliation running along his back at the very thought.

"– enough –" Their mother said.

"– why? – after all, my little brother no longer holds any affection towards her – am I wrong, brother? – what did you call her before she became a little whore in your eyes? – let me think – ah, I remember – Rhaenys –"

He stood up from the table, feeling his heart begin to pound like mad, a sea of memories filled with her surging through his mind making him feel as if he had begun to suffocate.

He heard Aegon chuckle behind him as he left the room panting with rage, bursting into his chamber with a loud slamming of the door.

He opened the drawer with his key and slid it out with an aggressive gesture, pulling out all the letters he had received from her over the years and holding them in his trembling hands, he stopped in front of the fire.

He stared at the flames, hearing himself breathe heavily, droplets of cold sweat running down his back at the memory of what his brother had said.

Your would-be betrothed will soon become the Lady of the Eyrie.

He pressed his lips together, crushing the letters in his hands, and drew in the air loudly, feeling with shame that he felt like bursting into tears. He sat down on the floor, leaning over and laid his forehead on his knees, hugging her letters, her words to him, to his heart.

[technicallyfriendly]

This is for my friend @godofstory, but I invite everyone to share their ideas and opinions in the comments or rebloggs whichever you prefer!

Hogwarts!AU, let's go! Before I start, however, I want to clarify that most of the adults in my headcanon work at the ministry. Only Daemon, Alys, Laena, and Viserys work at the school.

Daemon is the teacher for defence because i think it'd be really funny, the students are either afraid of him or absolutely in awe of him no in between. Alys is the potions professor who sometimes tries her newest concoctions on Daemon, who seems to have a strangely high immunity to poisons. Laena is the flight instructor and former professional quidditch player because I think it'd be cool, and Viserys is the headmaster who took over after he retired as minister of magic. Rhaenyra is the new minister of magic, obviously, and Otto is forever salty about being her under secretary because I like to see him suffer.

For house placement, I'm going with the idea of what each one valued the most at the time of sorting, similar to Canon Harry Potter and I'll start with the eldest, Aegon.

Aegon is sorted into Slytherin because he didn't want to disappoint anyone. It was kinda Targaryan tradition since Aegon the First himself was sorted into said house. He absolutely does not fit the type, but he tries. He really does. Politics is just so tedious, and there is just so much more fun to be had, like flying, for example. Why should he lead the house like his mother keeps telling him to when he could just become quidditch captain one day instead.

Helaena is sorted into Hufflepuff because she does not care one bit about her mother's expectations. She loves care of magical creatures and possesses all of Scamander's books (original and signed, of course). Sure, she has a gift for divination, but she hates it and rather spends her time in the forbidden forest, despite it being, well, forbidden, and she somehow despite never having witnessed anyone die managed to befriend the Thestrals.

Aemond, like Aegon, ended up in Slytherin, too, of course, which suits him much better than his older brother. He idolises his defence professor, uncle, and former Auror Daemon Targaryan and has a slight crush on Alys Rivers, the potion professor. Though nothing trumps his obsession with his nephew, who, in a bout of accidental magic, took out his eye. Aemond himself was not completely blameless in the incident, having forced his nephew into a corner, but that knowledge does not cool his anger one bit. Though, is it really hatred that motivates his obsession? Or is it an emotion of a much more possessive nature? Whatever it is, Aemond certainly is not ready to explore it further as of now.

Jace and Baela both got sorted into Gryffindor. They and Rhaena started their time at Hogwarts at the same time, and as best friends were over joyed to be in the same house. Both brave and bold, benefiting leaders they would turn out to be some day. Unfortunately, the gossipers of wizard high society took this in Jace's case as another confirmation of his status as a bastard son, but they were silenced over time as Jace rose through the student roster and even became head boy of Hogwarts later on. Baela took after her mother and made her name as the best quidditch captain the house of Gryffindor has ever seen. Though, she did not only have a talent for quidditch but also for duelling, and she often demonstrated that skill to defend her girlfriend Helaena from bullies. Cementing quickly that messing with her would be a certain mistake. Jace himself, much to his own consternation, fell for Slytherin's seeker, who turned out to be quite different from all the mean-spirited rumours spread about him.

Rhaena was sorted, surprising absolutely no one, into Ravenclaw. While quiet and unassuming, she would one day shock everyone and become Head girl of Hogwarts. Eventually graduating with the highest honour starting a career under Unspeakable Jeyne Arryn herself. Despite her not being the troublemaker her siblings and cousins turned out to be, she was quite adept with spell work, and people out to bully her learned their lesson rather quickly.

Daeron, much like Rhaena being an often forgotten child in the mix of the Targaryan and Valeryon children, was also sorted into Ravenclaw. He even rose to the position of Ravenclaw quidditch captain and would have turned out to be the Baela's greatest obstacle in winning the inter-house quidditch cup if it wasn't for Aegon being a surprisingly competent seeker for house Slytherin.

Lucerys valuing loyalty the most gets sorted into Hufflepuff. This just pours more gasoline onto the already burning rumour mill until they witness him first throw down with his uncle Aemond, who is trying to make Lucerys' life at Hogwarts difficult. Their monthly spats become one of Hogwarts' greatest entertainments for the next few years until Aemond graduates. That is until Daemon, of all people, catches them making out in a broom closet. Not that their fights subside, but now they often end in the privacy of the Room of Requirements after Daemon got sick of trying to kill Aemond every time he caught them.

Joffrey, much like his eldest brother, would later get sorted into Gryffindor, while Aegon the Third, Viserys the Second and little Visenya would get sorted into Slytherin to cause havoc long after their elder siblings had graduated.

[jynxpsiche]

Not Tangerine already planning on fathering reader's baby as his won, cause hey, the baby also has blue eyes so he can totally pass of as their son.

Also imagine if the real dad ever shows up and tries come back into the baby's life and Tangerine is all conflicted cause he loves the kid as if it's his own son :/

OH MY GOD THANK U SO MUCH ANON FOR REQUESTING THIS! LITERALLY CHEF KISS! We love a jealous Tangerine <3

Unwanted texts

💌. Summary: unanswered texts from her, lead Tangerine to meet someone he already despised…

or

…Tangerine meets the baby’s biological father for the first time.

💌. Warning: SWEARING. LIKE A LOT! Jealous Tangerine, female reader, canon gore. English is not my first language! I don’t know many British slangs!

X

c’mon babe

I just wanna meet the baby

be there for them, y’know?

pls answer me

It’s been already a couple of days and sometimes, during different hours of the day and night, your phone would ding with notifications…from him.

Your ex boyfriend.

The biological father of your precious baby.

The whole situation pissed you off. Firstly, when he found out about your pregnancy, he decided to leave without an explanation and leave you alone. Then he had the nerve to message you after god knows how many years.

It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.

But obviously you couldn’t ask for any type of help from Tangerine.

He was quite the protective type, especially if the main cause was a shitty ex-boyfriend.

Surely he would have gone feral if he found out about your ex’s sudden texts. That’s why you decided to keep the thing for yourself and just…ghost him.

But who would have known that you would end up calming down a rather irate Tangerine?

However, it’s important to start from the beginning.

It was a day off for Tan, which meant that he would have spent the entire day with you and his little one. But since it was still too early to get up, for now he simply drank in your warmth and cuddled your body closer to his, without waking you up.

The curly man was affectionate only with his girl and his baby, neither to his brother he showed this side of his. He wasn’t ashamed of it, he just had a reputation to defend.

His chin was placed on your head while you were all nuzzled in the crook of his neck. His strong and bulky arms were tightly wrapped around your waist, not allowing you to leave. Not that you wanted to.

Only your soft breaths echoed through the room. But the peaceful atmosphere was interrupted by the ping of a notification. The sound made him grimace, but not waking up from his slumber.

Then another ping, closely followed by another and another one.

Now Tangerine was fully awake, his half-closed eyes glaring at the device on your nightstand. When he noticed no more ding’s came from your phone, he softly pecked your forehead before trying to fall asleep again.

But then again. A new message.

Groaning softly, Tan lifted himself from the bed, before pecking your forehead again and assured that you didn’t wake up.

He was not standing on your side of the bed, the device on your nightstand calling for him to check what had interrupted his sleep.

With a furrowed and irritated expression, Tangerine unlocked your phone, noticing new messages unopened. They had been sent just a couple of minutes ago.

He quickly glanced at your sleeping figure, a strange feeling bubbling in his chest. His expression furrowed more when he saw the contact’s name. X.

Who the fuck was that?

But he surely was took by anger when he read the multiple messages he sent you.

He wasn’t only a dickhead, but he was also the biological father of his son.

His bloodshot eyes read every line and every word of every message he dared to sent you. His fingers gradually tightening their grip around the device.

The another ding. Another message.

X

I know ur reading the texts

ur online

u finally have the courage to read what I’ve been sending you

u stopped ghosting me huh?

God you’re such a bitch sometimes…

His vision darkened at the last text he sent, nostrils fuming with rage.

X

I want to see the kid

Meet me here

Xx xx xx, xx

“Tan? You good?” Your sleepy and raspy voice reached his ears and immediately he turned towards you, his furious expression never leaving his face.

You noticed, of course. Slowly you rose from your spot on the comfy bed and lazily dragged herself up to his tense figure, wrapping her delicate arms around his waist.

A soft kiss on his back.

“What is making you so tense?” You whispered against his skin, your hands gently rubbing his sides. Tan slightly crocked his head in your direction, his brows still furrowed. A sigh left his lips.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He instead asked with a low tone laced with rage. “Why did you hide it from me?” His tone showed how he strongly demanded an answer.

“I could have handle it. I simply didn’t answer his texts to show him how an insignificant being like him should be six feet under. To show him how he was a nobody to me anymore.” Your tone was flat, laced with venom, finally expressing all your suppressed rage.

His expression immediately softened at your words, his brows relaxing and the wrinkles on his forehead disappearing. The tails of his mouth slightly raised in an almost visible smile.

But you noticed it.

When he turned in your direction, his hands on your waist, his lips left a soft peck on your forehead. His face was calm and so close to yours.

“I’m goin’ to take care of him. Don’ worry.” He whispered, his soothing voice sending you in a sleepy mood. A light yawn left your mouth. He chuckled at your reaction.

“Now go to sleep love.”

After you fell into another peaceful but deep slumber, Tangerine got to work.

With Lem’s help (after calling him for twenty minuets straight, the poor man was sleeping) he managed to find the phone location and so the location of the fucker.

It was now 3:45 am and Tan was alone in a desert neighbourhood. Silence was his only company at the moment.

He stood still in front of an apartment complex, his eyes fixed on a specific window while the cigarette in his hand slowly burnt.

With a flick he tossed the small nicotine stick and put it out with a stomp of his foot. His lips were curled into an annoyed curl.

Silently, he climbed the fire escape with big steps and in a blink of an eye his shadow was printed in front of the covered window, blinds hiding the inside.

But a faint light from behind them immediately caught his attention, a sadistic grin creeping on his moustache.

His hand grabbed the gun from his pocket and he shot the window’s lock, allowing him to access to the apartment.

Frantic, disconnected noises echoed from inside. Tangerine knew the fucker heard him.

Only when he entered he was met with a younger, dull man, his face pale and his eyes wide from fear. “Who…who the fuck are you?!” He half shouted, his voice cracking a bit.

The man wanted to show his composure so bad, show him how collected and tough he was. But in reality, he was shitting in his pants.

With great strides, Tangerine approached the trembling man, his pistol clearly visible. “‘s not important, is it? Wha’ is important is why you fuckin’ harassing my love with your insipid messages.” He spat out in a hard tone, his rigid stare piercing the man’s soul.

The man’s eyes frantically wandered around, he is searching something to defend himself thought Tan. Quick pants from the man often broke the silence in the room.

He took a step back, his hands shaking uncontrollably. His body language was visibly betraying him. “Just…the fuck you want from me?!” He continued in a fake authoritative voice.

Tangerine held his face high, communicating how he was in control. Slowly his arm raised and he pointed the gun in the man’s forehead.

“I want you to delete her number, to forget about her and the baby and to never contact her again.” He stated with calm rage. His tone extremely sharp.

When the man was the pistol pointed at his head, his confident mask fell, his eyes filled with tears and his still standing posture crouched on himself. Shamelessly he nodded his head at every request, his voice dead in the back of his throat.

Suddenly, Tangerine shot the man in the leg and he stumbled back. A cry came out from his mouth.

“This’s your last warnin’.”

[chuckeroo777]

Laios got Eaten AU Chapters 53-85

Chapters 1-52 <- Be sure to read part 1. Falin being alive does cause some ripple effects which will continue in this part.

Welcome back! Today we continue where the anime cut off. We'll be going all the way to right before the final confrontation. (Mainly because I haven't figured out how to resolve that yet. I might do two versions, a good end, and a bad end.)

Let's get going! Massive spoiler warning for canon, if it wasn't obvious.

Chapter 53-54:

Same as canon.

Chapter 55:

Everything is mostly the same except Laios shows up instead of Falin. When escaping, Laios is much less gentle with Thistle.

Falin gets turned into a gnome by the giant changling. She is quite smitten by ogre Marcille, though she tries to hide it.

While Seshi and Chilchuck prepare the burgers, Falin assists with the ointment. With her healing expertise, it turns out even better, and she prevents Senshi from using it to cook.

Chapter 56:

Chilchuck has been noticeably grumpier than usual. Not only has Marcille been bugging him about his wife, but the tension between Marcille and Falin is really getting on his nerves. As before, he claims to have cheated to shut her up.

They spot the bicorn and Falin looks it up in the guide. They come up with the plan to be sinful.

When doing envy, Marcille can't help but be annoyed how Chilchuck has been giving her and Falin such judgemental looks, but then he goes and flirts with Senshi.

Without Laios, greed is a little tricky. Falin yoinks Ambrosia, and plays keep-away for a bit. She's giggling so much, she nearly forgets about the bicorn.

Then Lust gets brought up. Chilchuck and Izutsumi stare at Falin and Marcille, but before they can defend themselves, Senshi points out that it isn't lust when it's between two people who respect each other. Marcille then tentatively suggests that maybe Chilchuck's infidelity counts.

After Chilchuck gets attacked, Falin and Senshi rush into action. Falin can't body check it, but a mace to the face has the same effect. They manage to restrain it, then Senshi beheads it.

Falin is very impressed by Marcille's romantic acumen. Chilchuck is mostly left wondering why the romance expert is having such trouble admitting her feelings.

Chapter 57:

The dullahan is a type of ghost, so Falin has no trouble warding it off.

Much to Marcille's chagrin, Senshi decides to start with the head, since those parts don't preserve as well as the muscle.

Chapter 58-59:

When Senshi is discovered, it's Chilchuck who fills the party in about succubi. Unlike Laios, Falin doesn't rush off to grab milk, but she does start sweating profusely.

Thanks to there being three of them conscious in the room, they last a bit longer against the succubi, but when a succubus appears targeting Falin, things quickly break down.

Falin's succubus... is Marcille. But not merely Marcille. Due to a rather lonely childhood, Falin has a few fetishes she had been repressing. The succubus reflecting them for all to see. If she hadn't had her life force drained, she would probably have fainted from the shame and embarrassment.

Izutsumi saves the day, and everyone slowly recovers.

Marcille and Falin are mortified, and can barely even look at each other. Chilchuck finally reaches his breaking point and demands that the two of them talk about their feelings instead of continuing to bottle them up.

They end up having a heartwarming conversation where they confess their feelings. Marcille confesses that she always felt caring and protective of Falin, but the strangely fluctuating age gap made her way too uncomfortable to admit she was developing romantic feelings. But now that they are both adults, she wants to give this a try. Falin confesses that she always admired Marcille and wanted to get closer, but Marcille kept (unintentionally) rejecting her advances, so she just assumed she wasn't into her, which is why she stopped trying. Falin is so glad she was wrong. The two share a loving hug.

Chilchuck is happy for them to finally have these feelings out in the open, and they don't seem to be the sort that used to cause issues in his old groups. However, as the resident dad, he puts his foot down and insists that until this adventure is over, no sleeping together.

Speaking of sleeping together, that reminds Marcille of the dream she had while unconscious.

Chapter 60:

Marcille's dream with the Lion is similar to Laios', but with a few key differences.

Instead of appealing to Laios' care for the monsters and environment, the lion talks about how it IS the power of the dungeon. The power that the ancients discovered and misused. The very power that Marcille has desperately been looking for.

This is all very tempting for her, but she's still uncertain about becoming queen of the golden country, so the lion creates the hypothetical dream.

Marcille 'wakes' to find herself in bed with Falin. After changing out of their pajamas, they explore with the lion. Marcille's kingdom is a place where all the races are treated equally, with magic prolonging their lives to match hers.

She has also incorporated her ideas about a 'safe dungeon', expanding on the golden country's monster domestication to allow the harvesting of all sorts of useful things. Laios is in charge of this program.

Overall, it's all very nice and reasonable. As the audience, we know the lion will actually convince her to try and envelop the world, but for now the scope is realistic.

Marcille doesn't remember most of the dream, but relates that the lion is watching them through Falin's pearlipede. She talks a little about the 'safe dungeon' stuff, but keeps the whole age equalization thing close to her chest. And of course, beware the canaries.

Chapter 61:

Mostly the same, though Kabru's reaction to having to eat monsters is a little less severe. He hates it, but Falin and her group seemed sane enough. He isn't worried about going insane like Laios, he's just severely repulsed by it.

Kabru's nightmare is about the Laigon, stalking and hunting him down before eating him whole. Somehow, despite the massive changes, Kabru still manages to be disgusted yet intrigued about Laios.

Chapter 62:

The first half is identical, with Mithrun's story.

But when they start talking about Falin, that's when they get a bit confused. Despite Kabu's skill, he couldn't get a good read on Falin's desires. She is friendly and kind and thinks monsters are neat, but he's really unsure what would happen if she became lord of the dungeon. The only strong desire Kabru could identify was her unyielding determination to save her brother.

Mithrun begins to suspect that Falin isn't the one the demon is targeting, but unfortunately, Kabru doesn't know enough about the rest of the party to deduce who it could be.

Once the bell goes off, Kabru isn't worried about Falin, but with the demon involved, and so many unknown variables, he decides to go after them.

Chapter 63:

Falin's pearlipede leads them to Thistle's house, and they cautiously make their way in after shooting the bird.

The phoenix proves difficult, but Falin's flame wards buy them enough time to realize it's keeping its distance from the table with the bodies. They manage to weaponize Yaad and defeat and eat the bird.

Chapter 64-65:

Marcille wrenches open the book and they meet the lion. They begin thinking of a way to take down the Laigon.

Falin points out that if the Laigon is hanging out with Thistle, then it hasn't been sleeping or hunting, so her brother is probably really hungry. Senshi points out that flight is very energetically demanding too, and his mouth is real small.

They quickly get to work. The rest of this chapter and chapter 65 are skipped, since they still have plenty of bicorn meat. Notably, due to the Laigon being able to fly, they will arrive quicker, but the gang doesn't need to hunt, so it works out.

Chapter 66:

Between his panicking and self-harm, Thistle takes a bit longer to figure out what to do, since the Laigon doesn't comfort him like the Faligon did.

Chapter 67:

As they watch Thistle and the Laigon arrive, Falin is having second thoughts. Seeing him again is making her think about the plan to eat the dragon parts later. After all, isn't this exactly what Laios always wanted? But can he even survive on the surface like that? What if they save and restore him... and he's furious with her for ruining his dream.

The Laigon takes the bait and excitedly (and messily) devours the bicorn curry and rice. He then curls up and goes to sleep.

Unlike Laios, Falin doesn't consider that the chimera might have more than one brain. Tears in her eyes, she carefully approaches, and swings her mace-staff with all her might.

Falin breaks down crying. Marcille sees the results, and heals Laios' fractured head without reviving him. Now he's just sleeping. After a group hug to comfort her, Falin redoubles her determination, and they go to confront Thistle.

Chapter 68:

Identical, other than some slight name-drop changes.

Chapter 69:

Marcille has long term plans for being dungeon lord, but for now they plan to just use it to help Laios.

Falin isn't surprised to hear that Marcille is a half-elf. She suspected for a while. However, Thistle's callous taunting quickly pisses her off, and when he mentions the sterility, he nearly falls over as a stone spike erupts through the table and nearly impales him.

Infuriated, Thistle warps the room and unleashes the dragons.

The rest of the chapter plays out the same, with everyone getting separated. Falin escapes to the shelf, but everyone else gets got.

Chapter 70:

As the dragons begin fighting each other, Falin hides behind some bowls and starts chanting something while keeping an eye on Thistle.

Once he is distracted shouting orders at the dragons, she takes careful aim with her staff, and unleashes her spell, teleporting right behind Thistle, and disarming him. She may not be as burly as Laios, but Falin is a tough girl, and is easily able to overpower the elf twink.

Chapter 71:

She ties him up to her back and starts retrieving everyone's bodies.

Thistle cries fraud, and Falin explains that teleportation is actually a fairly recent invention. No wonder Thistle was terrified of Mithrun. This is the sort of magic not even the ancients were aware of.

Falin is still furious at Thistle, but decides to make a deal with him. He may choose. Either she kills him, and the party does as they please, or he may dispel the dragons and restore the room, and remain as their prisoner. If he does this, he has her word that they will do nothing to harm the people of the golden country.

Chapter 72:

Thistle, terrified what they may do to his people (An empty implied threat, but Thistle doesn't know that), reluctantly agrees. She lets him have his book just long enough to dispel his magic (Under threat that she'll teleport a rock into his head if he doesn't return it right away. Another empty threat), then she ties him up again, using proper rope, so he can't even move.

Falin revives the rest of the party. Marcille is very distraught that she died, and hugs Falin tightly. They are all very impressed that Falin managed to pull it off.

The lion is miffed that it can't feed on Thistle's desires while its current marks are watching. To make matters worse, Marcille is in no hurry to unseal the book, slamming it shut so she can rest after being revived.

Marcille and Falin talk about half-elves while Isutsumi and Chilchuck go grab drinks. Thistle continues to seethe.

Senshi prepares the tiny green dragon. He doesn't have the plant nectar, but it still turns out great. They feed some to the tied up Thistle. He reluctantly admits it's pretty good.

The gang take shifts over the night to watch the prisoner. As a curse of immortality person, Thistle doesn't need to sleep.

Chapter 73-74:

Marcille wakes up with a massive hangover. For a moment, she conflates a dream she had with last night, and panics that her first 'time' with Falin wasn't in her right mind.

Kabru arrives with the canaries. No one knows about Marcille's black magic, and Falin is pretty reasonable, so Kabru is optimistic about this meeting between them and the canaries.

Izutsumi and Marcille hide upstairs, Senshi prepares tea stuff, and Thistle sits in the corner, still seething.

Negotiations... go shockingly well! The canaries are impressed they were able to capture Thistle alive, and after a little questioning, it's clear Falin hasn't fallen under the dungeon's spell. They are a little grossed out by the bavarois, but most adventurers are a little weird.

When Falin mentions the lion, Kabru asks for permission to explain the danger. After all, the reason demon discussion is banned is to hide the existence of wish granting, and they already know about that part.

With Chilchuck and Kabru's help, Falin ends up coming to a very satisfactory deal with the elves. They will hand over Thistle and the books, on the condition that the canaries' forces provide all the assistance they can in preserving, transporting, and eating Laios. Falin is even able to cite the phoenix as evidence that this plan is viable.

Falin and Pattadol shake on it, and everyone is excited that the danger has passed.

Unfortunately, this premature happy ending is disrupted by something everyone forgot about.

Falin's pearlipede is privy to this entire conversation. And so is the lion. It manages to pop out of the unsealed half, and warns Marcille about the canaries, fueling her fear, and when Mithrun breaks into her room as the negotiations are being finalized, Marcille panics and unseals the lion.

Chapter 75:

Chaos erupts in the house as no one is quite sure what is going on. The canaries rush upstairs to help Mithrun, but they fail to stop Marcille before she declares her lordship.

The canaries are attacked by giant spiders while Marcille absconds. She vanishes before Falin or the others can see her. Falin's party heads upstairs to find Marcille, but only find dead spiders and wrapped up elves.

Chapter 76:

They help Lycion and Kabru carry everyone outside, including Thistle. Lycion fills Falin in on what happened upstairs and she is mortified. They leave Thistle with them, and head out into the remixed dungeon to try and find Marcille and talk her down.

Chapter 77-78:

Everyone receives word that Falin has taken down the lord of the dungeon.

When the chaos starts to unfold, Flamela receives an update from Lycion. Negotiations had been going well with Falin, but a member of her party went rogue, and is now the lord.

With Falin's party confirmed to be working to stop Marcille, the canaries do not attack them, instead focusing on finding Marcille.

Worried that the elves will kill Marcille, Namari, Toshiro, and the Orcs head out to try and find Marcille or Falin first.

Chapter 79-80:

Marcille has approximately 25% less longing in her eyes as she stares at Laios frozen in ice.

Not being in quite the same rush as canon, they don't accidentally fall in the water, instead running down the stairs.

They find the mushrooms and retrieve their stuff. The familiars are disconcerting, but at least they are ostensibly on their side.

They attempt to head in the direction the mushrooms were heading, but don't get far before hitting a dead end. As they try to figure out what to do, a massive flying snake pounces and gobbles them up.

The party panics as the long thin chamber begins to slowly fill with fluid. With the mouth clamped shut, they decide to run as far back as they can. Falin is pretty sure intestines don't have acid, right?

After a harrowing few minutes, they are pooped out in Marcille's front yard.

After reuniting and bathing, Falin tells Marcille about their deal with the canaries, and implores Marcille to reconsider.

Marcille refuses and reveals her dream. Falin doesn't laugh at her, but is concerned. She remembers how miserable the people of the golden country were. Surely the dungeon's power can only extend lives through that same curse.

Notably, due to not eating Thistle, the lion is still in its quadrupedal form. The lion does its best to convince Falin and the others, but after what Kabru told them about the demon, it rings pretty hollow.

Falin refuses to help the demon, not wanting Marcille to become another Thistle.

Marcille is upset, and decides she can make her dream come true by herself. She has the gang confined to the kitchen. She'll do it herself, and they'll see how lovely her dream is later.

Chapter 81:

Falin has no idea what kind of monster Donato is.

Operation Hometown Cuisine proceeds as normal, though Falin doesn't have the realization about Marcille's fears, since she didn't pry into her nightmare.

After failing her persuasion roll on Marcille, Falin gets fed up and grabs Donato's hand, then teleports the doppelganger out of the tree.

Chapter 82:

Identical.

Chapter 83:

Mostly the same. Kabru isn't a prisoner. While the canaries prepare to fight the monster army, they have Kabru escort Thistle to the entrance. Thistle is mostly just resigned at this point. He spots the golden country as part of the new patchwork dungeon, and notices it is off in the corner away from the action. At least Marcille isn't putting them in danger.

Kabru meets up with Toshiro, Namari, and the orcs.

Chapter 84:

Ofc Falin also comes up with the mushroom disguises. Toshiro isn't sure how to feel seeing Falin dressed as a big dumb shroom.

Falin frantically explains how she's pretty sure the lion had been grooming Marcille to be the lord the whole time. That's why she's so out of control.

Lycion explains that when things get this bad, the only solution is to kill the dungeon lord. Thistle calls bullshit. He lost the position without being killed. Lycion clarifies that as long as the demon supports them, there is no other solution.

So Falin proposes they deal with the demon itself.

Lycion shoots that down too. As everyone heads out to fight the monsters, Falin is left despondent.

At Marcille's behest, the lion possesses the pearlipede, engulfing her arm, and speaks to Falin. It tries to convince her to join Marcille. After all, don't they love each other? Chilchuck retorts that if you really love someone, both sides have to be willing to compromise.

The lion tries another tactic. It asks about their favorite foods. Falin's favorite food is ice cream, particularly a swirl of orange sherbet and vanilla ice cream. (If she had been given the chance, she would have discovered exorcism sorbet to be her favorite.)

Unlike Laios, who realizes the lion's weakness in this fight, Falin is just left feeling even more hopeless. But ultimately, she decides to head for Marcille, not knowing what else to do.

Chapter 85:

Falin is quite delighted to see Laios, and is sure it means Marcille isn't too far gone.

Things proceed mostly the same, except Falin again poofs the doppelgangers away. As the party keeps climbing towards Marcille, Falin throws out the armor piercing questions. If Marcille is so callous to create fake versions of her parents, why not just create fake versions of her friends that agree with her dream.

Because a fake isn't the real thing. And what Falin wants is Marcille. The real Marcille.

Marcille starts to break down, admitting that the whole reason she's doing this is because she can't stand the thought of losing Falin and the rest of her friends.

Falin gently embraces Marcille, and explains. If Marcille spends all her time worrying about when their time together will end, then they won't get to enjoy the time they do have together. As they look deep into each other's eyes, Marcille's eyes swimming with tears, she leans forward and-

Senshi ruins the moment by explaining that they already know how to live longer healthier lives. A BALANCED DIET! A HEALTHY CIRCADIAN RHYTHM! AND MODERATE EXERCISE.

The moment is ruined, but it's okay. Marcille clings to Falin as she can't help but laugh as she sobs. Falin smiles and gently rubs Marcille's back. Everything finally feels like it's going to be okay.

Right?

Chapter 86-Finale

[juuuulez]

📰 | part thirteen: capulet.

info: Carl Grimes x Saviour! Reader, no pronouns/no use of (y/n), FINAL CHAPTER, canon divergence (i rewrote the ‘wrath’ episode), non-descriptive violence, blood.

summary: The Saviour-Alexandria war comes to a close in one, final battle.

guys i just wanted to say thank you all SO MUCH for loving this story, because it’s truly my favourite thing i’ve ever written….these two mean the world to me and i’m so glad everyone understands my vision

i actually loved writing this chapter, and i think the ending is really appropriate to the themes and nature of their relationship

i’ll publish an epilogue next, which will be the 6-year timeskip, and just wrap things up nicely so you know what the future held for carl and reader :,)

-> masterlist <-

Truthfully, you were a little nervous. It had taken a week for these negotiations to settle, and you were worried as to what state the Saviours were in. You hoped that Negan was doing alright. Strangely enough, you��d never been away from him for this long, not since getting stuck together all those years ago.

A meeting spot was decided, though everyone was still wary. You’d been cuffed again for safety, and carefully transported alongside Rick, Carl and Michonne. They kept a close eye on you, wanting to ensure that nothing went haywire at the last minute.

It was a large clearing, a small grassy hill with an oak tree. Hanging from a branch was a beautiful stained glass panel, the intricate design having become slightly rusty with time and lack of care.

As you stepped from the car, the adults left your side, trusting you in Carl’s watch for now. He held onto your forearm, walking a few paces behind everyone else, allowing you to gain your bearings.

But something didn’t feel right.

“Carl,” You whispered, garnering his attention. “I don’t.. I don’t think this is a good idea.”

There was a look of worry on your face, one that made Carl’s heart break a little, wanting to assure you that everything is okay, though he didn’t know if that was true. He knew how risky this plan was: a plan that he couldn’t tell you, for you’d absolutely loose it.

“It’ll be okay.” He ends up saying, giving you a small squeeze and continuing to usher you forward.

It wouldn’t. Not for the Saviours, at least.

Fortunately for them, Eugene was still on their side. He’d expressed how the Saviours intended on sabotaging the deal, in hopes of taking power and taking you. This awareness led Eugene to rig the bullets with an explosive mechanism.

Carl had been uncomfortable to hear it at first, but knew that it was necessary in defending their stance. He couldn’t tell you. There wouldn’t be a single universe in which you’d hear him out, and see their side of the argument.

Yet, he understood. If someone was threatening his father’s life, he’d react similarly. So, Carl kept his mouth shut.

As you approached the hill, the Saviours became visible, and it seemed Negan had certainly brought backup. You could identify a few of them as Simon’s men, and wondered how loyal they’d been since his death. Or… murder, you suppose.

The more you focused, the more you realised the sheer amount of guns they’d brought. All standing defensively, weapons at the ready. It started to settle in, and you remembered your long history with the Saviours. They didn’t do things peacefully. They didn’t take deals, there was no such thing as compromise.

“Carl, Carl, I’m serious,” You urged him, suddenly stopping in your spot, causing Carl to stop with you. “This isn’t right. They’re gonna fire, I know they are. We have to—“

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Carl interrupted, trying to calm you. “Trust me, okay? I know. And it’s alright.”

Something about that sent off an alarm in your head, a look of confusion crossing your face. You stared at Carl, eyes darting back to the others, then to him.

“You know?” You repeat, “What do you mean? Carl, they’re gonna shoot you, shoot everyone here. This is bad.”

The more you spoke, the more you seemed to panic, so Carl tried to quiet your tangent with a hand over your mouth. It worked, and had this been another situation, you would have laughed at the irony.

His hand doesn’t move, looking subtly nervous despite trying to calm you down. “You need to listen to me, okay? Just breathe, and—“

Whatever he was suggesting doesn’t matter, as suddenly there is crackling in the distance, loud pops as the Saviours attempt to discharge their weapons. Several guns break down into pieces, flames overtaking their inner workings as the mechanisms shut down and killing several of their owners. Those who survived were injured, their hands crippled and burnt.

You’d cover your ears to protect from the noise, if not for the handcuffs, but Carl seems to have a similar idea. He’s looking around, looking for something, before he pulls you down against the grassy hill, trying to duck and shield your body from something unknown.

“Carl!” You yell over the gunfire, “What the fuck is happening!”

Finally identifying a group of Oceansiders in the distance, Carl cups his hand over your ear, the one uninjured and still intact. You try to squirm away, but to no avail, confused and freaking out, unsure whether his hold was supposed to be comforting or threatening.

As you realised what was happening, it was too late to do anything. Molotov cocktails were used to alight the remaining of Negan’s army, the alcohol splashing at their feet and soaking into the grassy hill, spreading with reckless abandon.

“No! You asshole!” You scream, jerking your head away from Carl and trying to find your bearings. But being handcuffed, and your current lack of balance since the injury, you just end up falling back against the dirt.

“Hey! Listen to me,” Carl interrupts your protests sternly. He clasps his hands on either side of your face, keeping you still despite your attempts at moving away. “It’s over, okay? This is it. It’s done.”

You’re panting, looking practically feral, sweat beading on your brow and skin. Dirt is in your hair, stuck to your bandage, marred over the flannel you still wear. Carl’s flannel. Instinctively, you want to bite his hands, to do anything to get away.

But after everything, you know better. There’s nothing you could do to change this. Whether it be him, or you, someone had to face the music. Someone had to loose.

“Uncuff me.” You demand, chest rising heavily with each breath you suck in, still lying flat against the grass while Carl leans over your form.

He shakes his head, “I can’t do that. Not until we get back to Alexandria. You’ll get a house, your own place, and—“

You interrupt him with a scream, “Uncuff me!”

Though your pleas don’t work, Carl pulls your body up against him, trying to get you into a seated position. If you had control, you’d probably be able to hold yourself up, yet you remain helpless to his control.

“I don’t have the key.” He finally reveals, holding you up by your arms, unconsciously rubbing away some of the dirt that’s stuck there. “Even if I did, we have to wait, alright? I’m on your side, I promise.”

You’re on the brink of agreeing, of finally calming yourself, of accepting that this really is the end. Even your head begins to nod, a small motion, still looking a little breathless and confused.

Meanwhile, the battle isn’t entirely over. The remaining Saviours had seemingly submitted, abandoning any semblance of control under the promise that they would live, if they left for good.

You catch the end of that speech, confusion flooding your featured as they’re commanded to leave. The pair of you still sit in the grass, away from the main commotion.

Carl must have similarly picked up on the sudden shift in tension, his mind finally catching up with everything happening.

The realisation clicks instantly: if the Saviours are disbanding, they had no leader.

At the same time, you’re trying to stand once more. “No, no! Let go of me!” You scream, jerking yourself away from Carl even when he tries to help you up. You only make it a few steps before lack of coordination hits, and despite your hostility, Carl wraps his arms around you in assistance.

Carefully, he helps you over the hill, standing right on the crest. From here, the two of you can see everything. His breath caught in his chest as he realised that Rick had been shot, though he stalled himself from doing anything, understanding there was a much more dire situation at hand.

Everyone stood in awe as Negan essentially choked on his own blood, the liquid seeping from a slice in this throat, no doubt a critical wound. Rick stood above him, hands soaked red, dropping the shard of glass he’d used as a weapon.

It felt like there was no more air in your chest. Like you’d been thrown into space, the oxygen sucked from your form. You stood there dumbly, watching, mouth open but nothing came out. Next to you, Carl was saying something, but you couldn’t hear him.

You couldn’t hear when Rick ordered for Negan to be saved.

Nor could you hear Maggie’s shrill screams, begging and accusing Rick of betraying her.

Everything sort of just stopped moving. All of the noise had stopped, leaving this deafening silence and overwhelming feeling of pure emptiness.

Whatever happened after that didn’t sink in. Somebody had spoken to you, but you weren’t listening, nor did you have any clue where they’d taken Negan. Or where they’d take you. It was likely that you were told, but it didn’t stick.

The entire time, Carl was by your side. After getting into the car, he slid in next to you, a small metal ringlet in his hands. He unlocked the handcuffs from behind you, however had been instructed to cuff you once more from the front, shooting you a sympathetic look as he did so. At least now, he could hold your hand, which he did for the whole trip.

It was mildly comforting, some place in the back of your mind appreciating the gesture, despite the numbness that had worked itself into every corner of your body.

Eventually, you’d arrived at Alexandria. They took you towards the back of the community, to a house standing far from the others. It had been emptied of any objects that could be deemed weaponry, and was fairly bare-bones, but contained the minimum for survival. It was the first time you noticed Carl wasn’t around, a notion that allowed your senses to return slightly, offput by the sudden seclusion.

You allowed yourself to explore the area, opening each drawer only to find them all empty. The windows were barred, the door locked, leaving the house to feel more like a prison than a home.

Unsure what to do, you sat down on the couch, facing the door. It was comfortable. You poked at the fabric with your fingertips, trying to gain your bearings and come back to a place of consciousness, but everything still felt fuzzy and far away. Like you just couldn’t reach reality.

Hours past, though you weren’t too focused on the time. The only way of telling was when the sun had lowered, shadows being cast through the partially obscured windows. You hadn’t turned the light on earlier, causing the room to just become darker and darker, as you had no intention of getting up.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door unlocked with a distinct click, before creaking open. You hoped that Negan would walk in, that he’d be alright and he’d hug you and say you’re going back to the Sanctuary. Together. But that was wishful thinking.

Though when Carl entered the house, you didn’t have the energy to be angry. You probably should have been.

“It’s dark, isn’t it?” He comments, having instantly spotted you sitting on the couch. When he doesn’t get a reply, Carl knows that small-talk won’t cut it, that he’s messed up.

So, he comes over, sitting next to you on the couch. In another life, you would have probably punched him. Screamed and accused him of lying to you. But you couldn’t be that person anymore.

When he wraps an arm around your side, you don’t protest, allowing Carl to pull you against him. You’ve finally begun to realise just how tired you are, as you rest your head down on his shoulder, tucked nicely into his side.

“He’ll live,” Carl whispers, “And they’re gonna keep him in a cell. I dunno how long… but probably a long time.”

You give a small nod, just to acknowledge that you’re listening. It makes sense. As long as Negan was alright, that they’d help him get better, then you could deal with the rest later.

“Can I see him?” You ask, voice coming out a quiet whisper. They’re the first words you’ve uttered since everything went down.

Carl feels guilty for his answer. He wasn’t even supposed to be here, with you. “No. Not for a while. Someone’s gonna come here, live in this house, just to keep an eye on you,” He has to swallow to clear his throat, “And.. it’s gonna be weird, I know, but… you’re here, and that’s all that matters.”

There’s little protesting you can do, not in this state. The shock still hasn’t fully worn off, Carl knows this, so he tries to move away from the heavy conversation.

He shifts on the couch, laying down and pulling you with him. You settle there easily, head resting over his chest, though he’s wary of not putting any pressure on your injury.

“We should get you something to eat.” He suggests quietly, brushing back some hair so he can see your face.

You shake your head, not having much of an appetite anymore. “Can we just stay here?” You whispered, lifting your head slightly to look at him.

Carl feels himself getting choked up again. He doesn’t quite know why, as he’s glad that this is over, that Negan will be confined to a cell, unable to harm anyone. This was the best-case scenario for his community.

But he knows, in another life, this could have ended badly. That he shouldn’t have been so lucky as to survive. The idea hurts, a deep ache in his chest, though he tries to keep the emotion out of his face.

“I’m just glad that I’ve got you.” Carl ends up whispering, the words slightly vague and confusing, but they mean everything they need to mean.

For Carl does, quite literally, have you in his arms. It didn’t matter where your relationship stood, or all your differences, for he had you.

You seem to realise this, a smile finally making its way onto your face. “Dork.” You mumble, the slight jab helping Carl to smile as well.

That numbness fades, as you lift yourself up a little, hovering over his body as your lips connect in a kiss. It’s the first one since weeks ago, after your fight in the alleyway.

This time, it’s softer, and Carl places one hand on your hip and the other to the back of your neck. Your breathing slows to match his own, lips moving together in an almost tired manner whilst your fingertips stroke the sides of his face.

Tomorrow will likely be difficult, as will the next day, and the next. But right now, things felt alright.

That night, you fell asleep on top of Carl, the pair of you tangled on the couch. You’d wake up to his voice in your ear and lips against your cheek, and though neither of you knew it then, you’d spend many, many more mornings together.

Eventually, the noise would fade, and you’d find some sense of peace in Alexandria with Carl. Years from then, you’d even help Negan find his peace, too.

Life would never be easy, but it certainly felt a little better with each day. That was enough.

[sidekickjoey]

Nothing's Gonna Harm You

Rating: T WC: 2,411 Tags: Post-Stranger Things 4 Vol. 2, Canon Compliant, Implied Steddie, Referenced Character Death, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug & Is Not Okay A/N: Here's a little fic inspired by the pics of Dustin defending Eddie's grave from jocks in S5 and how emotional that made me to see. Shout out to @steddieasitgoes for indulging in my rambles about this idea as I avoided work to write it xx Divider by @steddiecameraroll-graphics! Read it on AO3

Steve heard Dustin's shouts a mile away.

He hadn't wanted to drive him to the cemetery, originally. Ever since Eddie's death, the place has felt so strange. Haunted, almost. Steve wouldn't put it past Eddie to haunt Hawkins after how they treated him, but it's more like there's this lingering cloud of sadness and loss hovering over the place that's heavier than before. He doesn't like to dwell on it too much, fears the way it might make him feel if he lets it go on around him for too long.

But, Dustin wanted to go.

He's missed Eddie a lot, is the thing. Steve had not realized the full extent of the bond they'd formed until Eddie no longer was there to fill it. He knows now that it was strong. So strong. He'd be an asshole to not let Dustin come pay some respects here and there. Lord knows, had they had more time to spend together, Steve might have come out on the other side just as closely bonded with him himself, if not more so. So naturally, they went.

Everything had been fine at first, too. Steve pulled up near the front of the cemetery, parked his car, and gave Dustin a small 'be careful' talk before sending him on his way, and that had been that. He'd rested back in his seat the moment Dustin left his sight, turned on some tunes, and tried to distract his mind from his surroundings the best he could. For a while, that worked.

But then, Dustin shouts rang out over the cemetery, and well, Steve Harrington would not be Steve Harrington if he didn't run head-first into situations -- especially the ones he hates -- to protect the ones he loves.

He was up and out of his car in seconds.

It thankfully did not take long for Steve to find Dustin, all things considered. He had been to Eddie's grave before during the funeral, so he sort of knew the way, and Dustin was screaming quite loudly. He'd lost a little hearing throughout the years from injury, but not even that could drown out his wailing and calls for Steve. Hell, Steve probably could be many miles away and still be alerted to that kind of call.

When he did approach Dustin, it was like approaching a nightmare. He was standing right by Eddie's grave looking a mess, with his Hellfire shirt ripped, his face reddened and muddied up with dirt, and cuts near his nose and mouth. Beside him, Eddie's grave was clearly defaced with something also bright red, spelling out 'burn in hell' over Eddie's name. It's sloppy work, really. Steve could just hear Eddie judging their lack of creativity. On any other day, he might have pressed his luck with it and made a comment or two, just to see where it'd take him.

This day was no day for that, though. Dustin wasn't standing alone, after all. He had a jock's arm around his neck and another's arm cast back ready to swing. That just couldn't do. Luckily for him, Steve had been well trained on how to handle situations like it.

Approaching the jocks from behind, he wasted no time casting his weight back and slamming his fist expertly into the cheek of the one prepping to punch.

The guy, wildly caught off guard, stumbled to the side and fell over himself with a groan. Steve had heard that groan before leave his lips, so he was well aware he wouldn't be getting up anytime soon. This freed him to turn and handle the other two jocks at the scene ready to pounce.

The first took a few swings, but he was slow. He was no match for Steve, who had been trained by the likes of Billy Hargrove and Russians to act fast and on his toes. Steve easily nailed him in the gut, sending him wailing to the grassy floor. The next guy took a more analytical approach, jumping around to get Steve to accidentally trip over one of the headstones nearby. It was smart, but Steve was smarter. He knew how to use a good logic flip to his advantage and did so the moment he could. The guy was on his ass in seconds, whining about a twisted ankle like he'd been shot.

Steve brushed him off and immediately turned to Dustin.

The kid still wriggled around in the tight grip around him, so that was good at least. His face was as pale as a ghosts and his eyes were jumping back and forth, but he also looked hopeful. Carding back his hair, Steve used that hope. He let it refresh him and fuel him to finish the job here and not let him down, to give him a happier ending than the one's he's been dealt lately.

Stepping toward the first guy, a moaning pile on the floor still clutching his jaw in agony, Steve folded his arms and cast a scathingly judgmental look his way.

"God, you guys are pathetic."

Near his feet, the guy spat -- blood red, just like the color on Eddie's stone. "Move aside, Harrington. We're doing this one a favor so he doesn't end up six feet under like your friend here."

"Oh, well forgive him for not bringing a thank you card," Steve sneered back, cocking his hip to the side. "Honestly, if anyone should be thanking anybody, it's you to him. That kid saved your stupid life -- all your lives."

"He's not the first humanitarian to ever help after an earthqu- OW!"

Steve hoped Eddie got a kick out of that kick to this guy's side, wherever he was. He devious grin made its way to Steve's face then, as well as the teasing lilt that had driven Steve crazy in the forest what seemed like forever ago.

"Wanna' try again, hot shot?"

"Screw you," the other jock holding Dustin yelled then, tightening his hold around his neck. Dustin winced but held strong, reassuring Steve to keep going with pleasing eyes. "I hope you both go to Hell, right there with the freak!"

And, well, that was perhaps not the best thing somebody could say to Steve in that moment. Coolly, calmly, Steve straightened up and smiled. It was an early, unsettling thing that stretched across him and felt utterly vicious for him to deliver. It had to look as fearsome as it felt, because the second it reached its full potential, he saw the hold on Dustin slip ever-so-slightly. Steve could practically preen over it, over how he still easily can read these jerks like a book.

Stepping forward once more, he looked the guy up and down.

"Sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but that won't work on us, unfortunately. See, we've been there already. Not that bad of a place, actually. You know, once you get over everything rotting and all the demons waiting to devour you whole."

The guy stared back at him for a long moment then, confused but too scared and perturbed by the pet name Steve threw in to ask anything more. One of the other boys, the one who he nailed in the gut earlier, cursed under his breath in tandem, muttering something about how Steve's gone crazy. It only emboldened him more, enough so that he decided to toss a wink the guy's way and sweetly coo that "he'll be sure to remember that next time he's down there."

He swore he heard Dustin snicker.

"Anyway, unless you boys want test your luck with how serious I am right now, and I really advise against that I should add, I think we're done here. Get the hell out."

The group remained silent, stunned. Steve raised his brow. And then-

"NOW!"

Amusingly, it was Mr. Hostage himself who made it out the fastest. His other boys quickly followed, cursing and checking behind them the entire way.

Steve felt so alive.

Dustin, however, very much did not look super duper alive. Once he was finally back to himself and reality, Steve jogged over to him and bent at the knee to see his cuts. The one near his nose was pretty gnarly, enough to make him wince sympathetically.

"Jeesh, you okay kid?"

"Now that you're here, yeah," Dustin replied, more in awe than in pain. "You scared the shit out of those guys, Steve."

"Yeah, well," Steve huffed, applying some pressure to the cut on Dustin's cheek with his shirtsleeve. "Wish I could've done more, but I don't think I can exactly afford a lawsuit right about now."

"Parents cut you off?"

"And Family Video."

"Jesus."

"Doesn't matter though. The point is that you matter, and so does your health, and right about now we need to be getting you to a first-aid kit before anything gets too bad." Steve noticed a bruise forming under Dustin's eye. He winced. "And maybe get you some ice while we're at it."

Dustin nodded his consent, only to turn to his right and freeze in place. Steve followed his gaze back down to Eddie's grave, still very much disturbed. They shared a moment of silence before locking eyes, and when they did, Dustin shook his head already anticipating Steve's thoughts.

"I can't leave him like that, Steve. I can't."

That pooling feeling of dread hit Steve's gut then. He took a shaky breath.

"No, man. You need to get fixed."

"Not before him," he snapped back, a little louder, meaning business. Steve gnawed at the corner of his mouth and chanced a glance over at the stone. Something in his heart twinged.

"Dustin-"

"Not before him, and not when his uncle could come here and see this," Dustin reiterated, firmer.

And dammit, once again, Dustin was right. One-hundred-percent right.

How could Steve possibly be anything other than helpless to oblige there, in that moment.

With a sworn promise to let Steve bandage him up as soon as physically possible, the two went back to Steve's car and drove to the nearest mini-mart. There, with Dustin waiting in the passenger seat, Steve made quick work purchasing cleaning supplies, bandages, and two candy bars for once they were all finished with this mess. A short drive back and medical pit-stop later, Steve and a newly bandaged Dustin made the walk through the cemetery right back to Eddie's defamed plot.

They worked diligently and delicately.

The paint itself was pretty easy to get off with some soap, but its remaining residue was trickier. Steve and Dustin had to spend the better part of an hour scrubbing at it and dousing it with chemicals to remove it, which could not have been easy for Dustin in his wounded state. He still tried hard though, as did Steve. Eventually, the stone emerged good as new, shining in the glow of sunset.

There, on the ground, Eddie watching over them, Steve handed over one of the candy bars to Dustin.

Call Steve biased, but he figured the sun's light had nothing on the way Dustin lit up like a sparkler in that moment.

He turned to Steve and hugged him tight.

"Thank you," he said, voice tight with emotion. "From me and from Eddie. He'd really be glad you did this for him."

Steve let out a slow breath. Nodded once, twice.

"I'm serious, man," Dustin stressed again as he pulled back, knowing Steve and his deflections all too well. "That was really cool of you."

"I dunno."

"Okay, but I do. You protected me, Wayne, and him. That's like, the Eddie Munson trifecta. I don't think you could be more badass in his eyes right now unless you like, learned guitar right this second. Or, actually, no shit, if you whacked those assholes with a guitar! You know, upside the head, like your bat!"

Steve shook his head. "Fat chance of that."

"Hence why what you did is so amazingly cool," Dustin noted, snagging a big bite of chocolate.

Grabbing a smaller bite, Steve still was not so sure. He was, however, reminded then of a fleeting thought he had come up with earlier, a thought that might just be the right Eddie-like thing to say then to smooth things over and help Dustin know he'd be okay.

With one more look at Eddie's grave, Steve decided fuck it.

"Yeah, well. Their work was way too uncreative to let slide, even for me."

Dustin shoved at Steve's shoulder, grinning again to Steve's delight -- an instant win. "It was pretty lame, huh?"

"I'm just saying, the guy created an entire club based on fantasy creatures and has a whole backlog of oddly named artists he listens to, and the best they could come up with is burn in hell. They could've at least tried or used something other than cheap Crayola paint."

"Bet you Eddie cringed so hard, man."

"That's what I'm saying."

After a few beats of silence and another candy bite, Dustin looked back at the grave. "I'm, um. I'm thinking of coming back here again in a week or so. You know, to check on him. Make sure those assholes didn't try another shitty drawing. Do you want to come with?"

Steve swallowed hard, anxiety bubbling back. "I'm not sure, man."

"If you won't go to visit with me, would you go to protect me at least?"

"Dustin-"

"Please?"

Sighing, Steve conceded with a nod. And that was that.

They stayed there for a little while longer, until their candy bars were nothing but distant memories and the sun was nearly gone in the sky. Dustin got up first and began running to the car, telling Steve he'd race him. Steve held back though, told him to get the car warm for him. He just needed to do something real quick.

Kneeling down at Eddie's grave, head swimming with the loss and sadness that had been plaguing him the whole time, Steve placed his hand on the headstone, let a tear fall, and then met the stone head-on.

"I'll protect him," he spoke, to no one but the air in actuality but truly, dearly to Eddie in his heart. "I-I can't promise much, man. But, I'll promise that. For you. I promise."

With a pressed kiss to his hand, he let it rest on the stone for a minute or so more and then turned, jogging back to Dustin.

Above him, in the twilight sky, the stars twinkled.

[doodlesphxre]

REAPER HCS AND MY CHARACTER SHEAT

Design1

redesign!!

♰ Prefers being called Reaper, not Death

♰ Intersex, genderfluid, bi, demiro/ce (any pronous but is moslty user to he)

♰ His mental health is getting better <33

♰ Can have tree sets of wings

♰ Uses big, big words

♰ Has an echo in his voice when he speaks

♰ He is quite a cheerful skeleton now... There was a period when his character was dominated by pessimism and analytical thinking, but after meeting Tori and then Geno, it changed completely

♰ Now, he sometimes makes fun of other Gods, and how funny they act, gossips about them a bit too

♰ From the Gods he's probably the least liked because of how different his views are from theirs

♰ He is addicted to caffeine in any form due to his exhausting job

♰ For a longest time he complained and disliked mortals...he thought they were downright funny because of the way they chased life. He only appreciated them when he met Toriel and his job became a little easier by skirting the rules and saving mortals without others knowledge. Then he saw how curious they were and how funny they behaved.

♰ He is the type of character who does not know their traditions, behaviors, etc. He just had to learn what hugs and kisses are, why people eat, etc

♰ He's literally emo. He's the type of character who has emo music on his headphones 24/7.Well, he's just addicted to emo, rock, grunge, even metal music (etc). But he likes to listen to music that is kinda softer like Artic Monkeys at times

♰ When he cries or is accompanied by strong negative emotions, the space near him is filled with a strange aura... it causes people nearby to feel sadness and despair

♰ When a person really desperately wants to die, he is able to hear their pleases in his head

♰ His Gaster Blasters are more like pets for him (besides, they defend the gates of the Underworld (like Cerberus)

♰ Since he learned what sleep is, he often uses it as a weapon against Gaster's complaints about him leaving his job without a reason

♰ He often hums old and scary lullabies when he works

♰ Suprisingly, he's a quite sensitive person sometimes

♰ Big fucking boomer sjdb

♰ Brotherly relationship with Ink (Ink's like an lil bro to him :3)

♰ Sees Frisk from his AU as his lil sibling/child

♰ Can change shapes (I think it's canon) and his fav shapes are: crow, raven and a black cat

♰ likes shiny things (cuz yk... Crows likes them sjdbfb)

♰ So (wet) cat coded tbh. .. But much more bird coded

I think thats... All for now??

I hope you like them >:DD

[taygra5shaon]

If your Durge were a character that can accompany you on the adventure. How do you imagine your recruitment would be? Oh your interaction with Dark urge?

Edit: Name your Durge's mission

ohoohohoh! that's a really interesting thing, how Jacq would be as a companion. I admit, this is a thing I thought a lot even before reading this message, and @popex-springpinter thanks you so much for your interesting questions!❤️

SO! I had imagined that the player meet Jacq on the beach, or among the goblin corpses near the mind flayer stuck in the wreckage.

He is extremely confused, covered in blood and a bit dazed, with his life bar in half (he almost split his head in half by hitting it in the nautiloid's capsule to get out).

For a moment jacq almost looks like he's about to attack, but he shakes his head and stops.

Here there is the possibility of making a perception roll, and so we understand that he is confused and that it was as if an instinct was pushing him to attack.

I imagined the dialogue and the questions, which vary on: did he kill all these people, if they are okay, or what happened (or attack, it depends)

Jacq takes a while to answer, as if his voice had not been used for a while, and he answers that he doesn't know, and that he woke up on the beach with no memory and with all the dead around him.

He asks if he can be updated on what happened to them, and they need to be explained what coelomorphosis is, and then he would like to get rid of the parasite, and suggests that they continue together to find out what can be done.

if you accept him into the group, Jacq is bold, energetic and wild, kinda sweet and friendly, but sometimes , in some interactions with NPCs, he give some disturbing comments that show his dark side, commenting in a bloody and creepy way.

he is an exceptional shadow druid warrior, with a strong inclination towards arcane magic.

He have no idea of what privacy is, and he is prone to doing strange and stupid things (like drinking from auntie ethel's well, or licking a dead spider).

As said before, he is a cannibal (he and astarion have no problem eating/drinking from corpses), has no idea how to cook (he has no problem eating raw meat), likes alcohol, but has a nearly non-existent tolerance (he gets drunk easily, but drinks little, due to the severe headaches he has).

It is easy to gain approval with him, you have to be a mix between heroic, kind and cruelly bloodthirsty and chaotic.

when you have a good enough approval(25), Jacq reveals to you that he has no idea who he is, and that his memories are gone (he just see red and the only real ones he has are some faded memories of his childhood, before bhaal), but more important, he has dark instincts and very bloody thoughts, and has no idea why.

(I'll leave Jacq's romance sheet aside, or I'll never finish it)

is canon the sleepwalking murder of the bard, and Jacq wakes the player up in panic asking for help. here it's very similar to how you react with Astarion when he tries to bite the player, you can help him or chase him away (or attack him).

If you have a high approval (40) Jacq reveals to you the visits of Sceleritas Fell, and the things the little monster says.

As with Shadowheart and Astarion, you can help Jacq become a good person (repressing his dark urges and be free of bhaal), or encourage him to embrace them (and pursue the destiny of bhaal's chosen one).

The second act is interesting in his storyline, because Ketheric and a shitload of people recognize him, but of course no one really says anything (Jacq is very uncomfortable but at the same time enthralled by the moonrise towers, and he's looking for answers).

The dialogue with the bone sister is very hard for him, and if the player tries to defend him from her, there's a good increase in approval.

THEN, then, let's not forget the part with the ancient brain and the three chosen ones, Jacq dissociates for a moment, looking at Orin and Gortash, and feels anger mix with pain and longing, with a bonus of a terrible headache. He almost blows up the hideout when he tries to get closer, the player prevents him.

I imagine that in act 3, when he regains some of his memory, jacq will find himself in conflict with karlach about gortash, she wants to kill him, he instead wants to try to reconnect with him.

here the player will have to choose whether to kill gortash or not, and if he finally does, he will lose a lot of approval (-10), and if the approval is not high enough, he will leave the group.

(wow, i wrote a lot, i'll stop here for now. i hope this is enough as an idea of ​​how jacq is as a character....)

thanks again, I love when people ask me things about him, and I'm sorry if I take some time to answer it, but I will get it, no worry!

(I ask forgiveness for my English, and for any errors I may have written, love you all, Ciaoooo 👋🙃)

[lutewife]

"Hate so passionate it blooms"

Chapter one - First Extermination

1752 words, fem!reader, reader is in hell for a reason, sinner!reader, reader is oblivious, canon divergence here and there, no NSFW in this chapter, angst, toxic yuri, canon-like humour

Crossposted on AO3: @YuriCameo

Warnings: blood, murder and all... It's extermination, duh. Nothing too bad though.

It all started years ago...

It was the time of the first extermination, since you opened your shop.

Noone in the pride ring liked it, obviously. And you just happened to live in it, being a sinner - flesh and blood. Your only source of income, your own sex shop, was there too. Very successful one to boot, since in Hell, let's just say, people really like these kind of things. And as weird as it was, your shop was top notch, being the most successful one in the Pride Ring. You swore you wouldn't leave it to destruction under any circumstances, because, well, you needed that money.

And you kept your word. Now you were standing in front of your shop, scanning the area and waiting for inevitable. Your employees, moved by your dedication, have also agreed to defend it. Ah, the deep connection between a demon and their sex shop. Truly touching.

You gripped your weapon tightly and, for who knows which time, looked around with watchful eyes. Turning to your employees, you managed to make a shaky smile appear. Someone in these difficult times must fake confidence, otherwise the fight is already lost - it was one of your beliefs and you had to fulfill it.

- It's okay, girlies. I don' see anythin' strange happening - you said trying to lift up the mood. -Y'know, maybe they were bluffing afterall! M-Maybe nothin's gonna happen! - you added, when you didn't receive any reaction from your employees, trying to convince yourself. Fearful faces of the other demons didn't went unnoticed by you, but you tried to ignore it for your own good.

Well, they were right to be afraid. Afterall, they were employees of a sex shop, not some angel hunters, for fucks sake! And the only person with some fighting knowledge was you, their boss who was almost shitting her pants under pressure and who probably didn't know shit about killing angels. Absolutely excellent position they were in.

Just as you were to say another one of your reassuring quotes again, it began. Everyone absolutely paralyzed, along with you, but you were the first to actually get yourself together.

- It's a-okay guys, there's no need to pani... - you didn't even finish the sentence. Most of your employees were already running for their own lives, screaming mercilessly, leaving everyone else and your shop behind. So much for teamwork.

You groaned and shot your middle finger at them.

- HOPE YOU KNOW, Y'ALL ARE FUCKING FIRED! - you yelled, needing to release your frustration. Hearing that, the others who were contemplating escaping, shrunk into yourself. Good. At least you'll have someone to sacrifice.

Many things were happening at the same time. You've seen buildings collapsing, demons panicking and fighting for their lives, even some of them kissing passionately on the verge of death. Geez. Dramatic much.

Deep down you were as terrified as them, though. If it wasn't for your money and kinky goods, you wouldn't give a damn and run away too. Unfortunately you needed to stay.

Just as you were focusing your eyes on the angel who was slowly approaching you, a commotion inside of you shop could be heard. Or maybe... Above it. You raised your head and couldn't believe your eyes.

There were thousands of downright identical exorcists descending from the sky, perfectly above your shop. You nearly had a heart attack (though you didn't actually have one) and shot a panicked glance to your co-workers through the window. Did they really have to send the second wave here?! Maybe you didn't think it over afterall.

Not even thinking about it, you moutched: "Run!". Your people gladly did so, screaming and shierking, causing even more commotion and the blood-thirsty angels to pay attention to them. You fought the urge to facepalm.

Great. Now it was happening.

The exterminators mercilessly murdered your employees one by one, while you were watching. Their sick and twisted faces (or maybe they were masks? you didn't really know) seemed even more happy than before. If you haven't seen that they descended from the sky with your own eyes, you would've thought they were demons.

You would be traumatised if not the fact that you've seen worse things. It's hell, duh. But nevertheless it wasn't a nice thing to witness and you definitely must act.

That's why you began to get your ass out of here. You ran like your afterlife depended on it (because it did).

While you were doing so, you heard something collapsing. Looking back, you saw your shop completely destroyed, with one of your employees in their huge ass demon form.

It was touching to see they were trying to defend the shop. But it was now completely destroyed, so...

- Goddamnit! I'm taking this outta your pay! - you said irritated.

You wanted to swear more, but suddenly a familiar voice could be heard.

- Boss! Here! - your best employee yelled, seemingly inviting you to their hiding spot. You let out a quiet cry of joy. Finally someone who is useful in this shithole. You started walking over there, but then in a blink of an eye...

From your cheerful employee's smile began spilling black blood.

You couldn't believe your eyes. There wasn't an angel here just a minute ago. And now she was standing before your dead co-worker, stained by their blood.

- They were a hellborn, you bitch! - you cried out, letting your frustration spill.

The exorcist looked at her clothing, just now noticing the mistake.

Something just snapped inside of you then. She wasn't even paying attention to people she killed. It wasn't an angel, it was a monster! With furious scream and swing of your weapon you ran towards the enemy.

But just as you hit her with it, the weapon broke against her head. You began to retreat with fear, but you were interrupted by the exorcist:

- There is no point in trying, sinner. You can't harm me - you could almost hear the feeling of superiority in her voice.

Something about the way she said it rubbed you the wrong way. You were now overflowing with the desire to fight.

- Oh yeah?! I won't believe you, until I... - you grabbed a spear, that was left in a dead body behind you - ...tRY!

You swung the weapon and to your surprise, this time, the exorcist dodged, almost getting hit.

Oh, so that's how things are...

Now it was your turn to smile triumphally.

- Hm? What was it 'bout being invincible? - you laughed and put a hand on your hip, swinging the spear on your shoulder.

The exterminator seemed furious, smile disappearing from her mask.

- You little BITCH! - she yelled, now preparing to attack you too.

But to her dismay you dodged skillfully and began a new set of attacks. You were fighting for a while, there was no end to this heated moment in sight. She even managed to injure you slightly, but fortunely you dodged just in time. Eventually, though, you managed to knock her over. The training you went on in your previous life was finally paying off.

You climbed on top of her, holding her wrists up and swinged the spear again, preparing to kill her, but... You aimed past her head.

- Oh, yeah! How could I forget. Let's see what disgusting face lies behind your little mask! - you said, wanting to enjoy the victory.

The exorcist looked even more furious than before, trying to move her head away from you. But she failed and you took it off slowly.

Oh.

Oh.

Her golden irises illuminated in the low light and short, white hair was messy from fighting beforehand. She looked furious, her eyes were narrow and on her pale skin there was a droplet of your own, red blood, that was spilling out of your injured hand. Some of the blood even managed to get into her (very kissable) lips. She spat it out at your face in anger.

You didn't even notice her saliva mixed with your own blood, which was flowing down your face, and just stared at her wide-eyed (possibly blushing).

- Happy? - her voice brought you to reality. It seemed even more attractive now that you have seen her face.

In a moment of inattention, you forgot that you weren't holding her wrists now.

Smirking, the woman took advantage of it and punched you in the face. Hard.

- OW! FOR FUCK'S SAKE! - you screamed and staggered, creating exorcist the opportunity to break free. And that's exactly what happened.

She kicked you down and then, as you were laying on the ground, then rose in the air, preparing to escape.

You, completely beaten up, just raised your head at her and yelled:

- Wait! What's your name?!

The angel just stopped in the air and looked back at you, with her pale face.

- Why the hell should I tell you? You disgust me - she deadpanned.

You thought for a moment.

- I-I, um, I know Lucifer! - You bluffed, desperate - I'll tell him you killed a Hellborn! Yeah! You fucked up! - That was a lie made up on spot, completely unbelievable. You even admitted it to yourself, prepared to fail.

The exorcist turned around and just as you thought she'll fly away, she spoke:

- It's Lute. My name is Lute.

What a nice name...

Wait! No! Disgusting! Very disgusting! What a horrible name!

- My name's [name]. Better remember it, you shithead! - you got up, staggering - From now on, you're my worst enemy! - you didn't even realize how silly that sounded then.

- Sure. Whatever you say, sinner. - She snorted, looking at you from above. The slight light reflecting off her halo added even more charm to her face. You couldn't help, but notice her long, beautiful eyelashes.

She was a horrible person. Really, she was. This "Lute", as she was claiming to be called, probably killed thousands of souls, before she killed your employee.

But you just couldn't help to wonder...

Why hadn't you killed her?

Notes: I'm sorry about any mistakes I've made or if my writing's kinda off, English is not my native language, so spare me please 🙏 The lack of Lute fics on here is a crime, I just HAD to write smth, even if it's not perfect. Also it will be multiple chapters and yes, there will be smut 😳. stay tuned, darlings ! 🫶

[shakespearean-dream]

last of the big five yall!!!!

happy late fourth of july! remember to keep boycotting, speak out and listen to palestinians, the people of congo, native americans, queer/trans people and women currently being oppressed this independence day because america fucking sucks!!! 🇺🇸🇺🇸🦅🦅🦅🔥🔥🔥

here are a couple good places to donate! please remember to do your own research and take care of each other, it’s getting scary out here.

ohhhh nimdok, where to start with you….

i have been dreading doing him because he pisses me off so bad but i actually had some decent fun with him :D. designing him and branching out farther away from his canon self was nice, but im not touching his backstory or personality really, that stays about the same for me in my head.

speaking of whichhh! like benny, i understand how the game makers had a short amount of time to fit an entire character arc of an old man undoing his deeply internalized racism/xenophobia/ableism in a singular short scenario, but unlike benny i actually somehow like his better?? nimdok had a lot more to get over (well not saying being a dickhead murderer isn’t a lot but 😭) and i enjoyed seeing him actually help out the people he would’ve previously turned in. it still feels a little hollow/unrealistic because again, he’s been like this his whole life, but considering how much AM takes him away from the group to (most likely) psychologically torture him for his actions he’s probably had a bit of a revelation.

doing his scenario was unfortunately funny at times because of the strange way we had to go about redeeming him with the golem guy😭giving him a smooch caught me off guard but ykw? i’ll take it for being able to kill mengele like immediately afterward. also speaking of whichhhh…

i would go into more detail about nimdok and mengeles relationship to give it some depth because god i love me some queers, but that is??? a real fucking guy???? a real life monster???? im less than comfortable picturing the fucker in my mind, much less giving him depth with a character who i also don’t like. like why ship ur essentially OC with a REAL LIFE N/AZI??? just another one of the reasons harlan elision creeps me out. (if that just pissed you off google search him s/a-ing 2 people, marrying a 19 year old when he was in his 40s and defending a child r/apist i really don’t feel like arguing with you. the guy was a horrible fucking person and he makes me sick, i just like this franchise.)

i cannot cough up anymore thoughts about this fella pls forgive me; these past couple days have been rough on my 3 brain cells. AM will for sure be next and after that fully rendered/decked out full bodies are in order!! so look out for that:]]]] i may also start posting some art fight things since i was just complaining about the lag a post or so ago☺️ jk ily artfight. team seafoam lets goo

ok i love u guys!!! if u have any requests for me drop a comment or an ask, and thank you so much for the continued support on my art❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ lots of links on this post but one more quick reminder to take a look at my commission page if you’d like!!! yolanda is still in the shop because they cannot figure out what’s wrong with her :(

have a good night friends 🫶

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Defender, Defender, please let down your hair 😉❤️‍🔥

new Defender Strange head canony goodness...

Defender is strong with Ardeth Bey vibes. Hear me out?

Just watched The Mummy Returns, the scene where the Medjai are about to face off against the Army of Anubis. Leading the horseback charge, Ardeth's long, dark hair (which ofc pairs gloriously with his Stephen-like beard and 'stache) billows behind him. His brow is set and determined, no matter the odds against victory.

He's a warrior, rife with restrained power, a man on the side of the angels, if you will. A consecrated man, passionate and single-minded in his duty to protect mankind, at whatever the cost. He wears black, priest-like robes and leads an ascetic life--although I imagine (as we all know with Stephen and his Variants) that doesn't necessarily demand celibacy.😏

He has the feel of an adventurer and--perhaps--a taste of a swashbuckler about him. And hey--Stephen was raised on a farm and surely knows how to ride a horse, as Ardeth does.

I'm thinking maybe that kind of vibe was strong enough in Defender's meager moments onscreen for so many of us to fall hard for 617 Stephen Strange.

What say you? @doctorstrangeaskblog @valkyrieandstrangeridingaragorn @harlekin6 @ben-locked @paperclippedmime @strangelock221b @fanartka @wint3r-h3art

[cowgurrrl]

Ok I have fluff angst idea…Charlie is pregnant and freaking out about telling Joel because she is kinda young. And Joel is mad, scared, excited , crying and also grandpa Joel?!

Hello why did this make me tear up

April, Come She Will

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: it’s canon to me that reader and Joel live to be 100 and nothing bad ever happens to them ever again

Summary: The next generation of Millers find their way [3.6k]

Warnings: teen pregnancy (what’s new for this series lmao), arguing, language, call backs

Charlie's been acting weird for the past few weeks. She's been coming in and out of the house at strange times, not showing up for patrol, and giving you vague answers about where she's been. She's nineteen now, so she doesn't necessarily need you and Joel breathing down her neck all the time, but you still like to know where your kid is. She tells you she's been with Ellie or her boyfriend, Eric, which is fine. You like Eric. You just wish she would spend a little more time at home. 

Charlie and Eric met on patrol. No matter how much you tried to dissuade her from joining the patrol team, she wouldn't listen. She had watched you guys go out and defend Jackson as she grew up and even talked to Ellie about her adventures outside the walls. She knew how to ride a horse, and Joel taught her how to handle a gun. The intention was never to "train" her for patrol but to be prepared in a worst-case situation where she needed to protect herself but the second she was old enough, she signed up. She got paired with Eric, a sweet boy her age she went to school with, for her first patrol, and that was it. They've been together ever since. 

Joel was hesitant when they started dating, but you reminded him she was an adult and could make her own decisions. Eric was somehow more hesitant when Charlie invited him over for a family dinner. Eric grew up hearing stories about your family, and his dad occasionally worked patrol with Joel, but knowing him by proxy is much different than sitting across from him at the dinner table. Joel promised to be on his best behavior, but poor Eric was terrified any time Joel asked him a question. Since then, they've gotten a little closer, but they are by no means buddies. You're a little nicer.

All this runs through your head when Eric trails behind Charlie into the house. It's a Saturday, and you and Joel are off patrol, sitting next to each other on the couch. You were supposed to go see Ellie and Dina, but they rescheduled for next weekend without much explanation as to why. JJ might've gotten in trouble. At seventeen, he has more of Ellie's wild personality than anything else. It's a little fun to watch her try to handle a younger version of herself. 

"Hey, can we talk?" Charlie asks, a slight tremble in her voice. You look up from your book, and Joel leans forward to drop his wood carving knife on the coffee table. She and Eric sit across from you, her leg bouncing anxiously when she does, and you glance between them. You're a little confused as to why Eric has to be here for this, but she's clinging to his hand so hard you almost worry she's gonna break it. Worry claws at the back of your throat, but you swallow it down. Whatever it is, you can handle it.

"Sure, bug," you say. "What's up?" 

"Um, so there's something I've been meaning to tell you, but I wanted to get some things squared away before I did because I didn't want you guys to freak out or anything. I understand this is a really big deal, but it's under control, and we have a plan." She explains rapidly, and Joel chuckles as he removes his glasses to rub at his eye.

"You ain't pregnant, are you?" He asks, and Charlie is silent. That's when you feel your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. Your mouth goes dry, and you sit up, staring at her like you're waiting for her to say she's joking. "Charlotte," Joel says, his tone even and scarily calm. "You're not. Right?"

"I'm sorry, Daddy," she says, tears shining in her eyes. "But we… we have a plan. We're gonna get set up in a house, and Ellie's gonna lend us some of JJ's old things, and we're gonna pick up some more shifts before the baby comes. It's all gonna be okay."

You can't help but feel like you set her up for failure, not only with your own teen pregnancy but with your inability to keep her safe. In the old days, you might've been able to put her on birth control or give her condoms when she started dating, but those things aren't on the top of the list for what little FEDRA manufacturing is left. The best "safe sex" talk you could have with her is letting her know her options if she did get pregnant or sick. You hated it, but there wasn't much else you could do. And now look where you are. 

"Mom, can you please say something?" Charlie begs as Eric rubs her back. You thought you'd be prepared for something like this with your and Joel's (and Ellie's) family life starting earlier than most. Instead, you find yourself, possibly for the first time ever, sympathizing with your mother. You pull yourself together enough to open your mouth. 

"You wanna have this baby?" You ask, and she nods. 

"We already decided. We're not gonna get married or anything yet, but yeah, we want this baby," she says. Eric doesn't say anything. You figure that's probably smart. It's only a matter of time before Joel freaks the fuck out about the fact that he got your baby girl pregnant. "That's why I went to Ellie's the other day. I was talking to her, Aunt Dina, and Uncle Jesse about when they had Jay." She says. You try not to be offended that she told Ellie before she told you. You told lots of people before you told your mom you were pregnant. Still, you thought you and Charlie were closer than you and your mom were. 

You look at Joel, the same panic and anger taking over his features, and take a deep breath. He grinds his teeth as he thinks, and you have to stop yourself from scolding him. When you look back at Charlie, her face is splotchy, and her brown eyes sparkle in the mid-afternoon light. She looks so grown up but so little at the same time. Your eyes slide from hers to Eric's wide ones.

"I'm assuming you know the stories about Jane and her dad?" You ask.

"Yes, ma'am." He croaks, and you nod.

"And I'm assuming you know how Joel and I got to Jackson in the first place?" 

"Mom," Charlie starts, but you catch Joel shaking his head at her in your peripheral vision. Eric swallows thickly and nods.

"Yes, ma'am." 

"Good," you say. "If I ever hear anything about you not being there for Charlie or that baby, or if you even think about leaving them, I'll fucking kill you." You haven't had to speak this way in years, and it, obviously, rattles both Charlie and Eric. Good. You hope it does rattle him. 

"Mom!" Charlie scolds, looking to Joel for help, but it's clear that he has your back with this one. You'll be damned if she ends up a single parent like you two were. She scoffs and stands, pulling Eric up with her. "You don't have to listen to this, Eric."

"Yes, he does." You say.

"Baby, what did you think we were gonna say?" Joel asks. 

"That you'd support my decision or, at least, find a way to!" 

"Of course, we support you. I just..." Joel trails off. "I just don't think you know what this means. How much this is gonna change your life. And I know you love each other, but havin' a baby ain't an easy thing."

"That's why we're doing it together," she says, her eyes moving from Joel's to yours. "That's why it's fucking crazy to talk to him like that. And unfair. You didn't act this way when Ellie had JJ." 

"That's because we didn't need to have this same talk with them. Jesse and Dina had already decided to co-parent Jay. There was no way Dina was gonna be a single mom," you say. "But there were three of them, and it was still hard. You were just a baby when he was born, so you don't remember, but it was a lot."

"So, you don't think I can be a mom?" She asks, and you stand with your hands up in defeat.

"I didn't say that. I just want you to be prepared. I remember what it was like, and I-"

"Just because you were miserable when you had Jane doesn't mean everyone is." It's mean and calculated and hits you right where it hurts. It doesn't matter if it's the hormones or not. The sting of her words renders you silent. 

"Don't you speak to your mother that way!" Joel yells. He never yells anymore, especially at Charlie. The scary boom in his voice fills the room, but you catch the glint of tears in his eyes as his breathing stutters. "This ain't just playin' house, Charlie. So, if your mama is a little worried, she's allowed to be. Shit, we're all allowed to lose our fuckin' minds for a minute, but that isn't an excuse to talk bout your family like that." He says, and she taps her shoe on the ground twice, a nervous tick she picked up from Joel.

"I'm sorry, Mom, but I can't just sit here and listen to you threaten Eric like that," she says. You nod but don't apologize. You can't find anything to say. Charlie stares at you like she's waiting for you to lash out or yell at her, but you can't. She wipes a stray tear away furiously and turns away. "I need some air," she mumbles, dragging Eric out of the house before you can even protest. The door slams behind her, and the floorboards she took her first steps on shake with the force. Joel reaches for your hand and pulls you into him. He murmurs soft assurances into your hair, his voice cracking and tears spilling from his eyes as he does, and all you can do is let him hold you. 

What the fuck else are you supposed to do?

You wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of the bathroom door in the hall slamming open. You and Joel jolt upright in bed at the sudden sound (old habits die hard, right?), and you sigh as you rub your eyes. You check the alarm clock next to your bed for the time and see it's close to three. The dark mountain town is still asleep outside your window, and you grab a soft flannel from the floor to pull over your shoulders. 

You don't remember falling asleep. You were up, waiting for Charlie to come home so you could talk further, but when the front door opened and closed, and she basically sprinted to her room, you couldn't find the energy for another fight. But when you laid down, you couldn't sleep either, your conversation from earlier playing on a loop in your mind. You and Joel just sat there in silence, staring up at the ceiling until your eyelids got too heavy, and you fell into a dreamless sleep. You couldn't have been asleep for over an hour or two when the bathroom door swung open. Joel looks at you, confused when you stand.

"What are you doin'?" He asks, and you wave him off.

"I know why she's up. Just go back to bed." You say without much explanation before padding down the hallway and into the bathroom.

Your footsteps are loud enough on the tile for her to hear you, so she doesn't flinch when you suddenly pull her hair away from her face and hold it out of the way. She glances at you and softens a little before retching into the toilet again. She does that for another minute or two before her stomach is finally empty, and you can safely let go of her hair. She sighs and leans against the wall as you flush the toilet and hand her a towel. You settle across from her, your back pressed against the sink, and rub her leg as she wipes her face. 

"Thanks," she mumbles as she tips her head back against the wall. She looks tired and weak. All you want to do is scoop her up in your arms like she's three years old again. "I feel like shit."

"I'm sorry. That's my genetics. I was super sick with you and Jane." Her name rolls off your tongue so fast you almost forget the last time it was invoked. The air stiffens between you, and she shifts uncomfortably. 

"How long were you sick for?" She asks softly. You sigh as you track your memory back and try to remember the exact details.  

"About six months," you admit, and she groans. You laugh a little at her reaction, but only because you know how frustrating it is. If you could take it from her, you would. When you settle, she stares at you guiltily and starts picking at the nail bed around her thumb like she can't stand the silence. "Where did you guys go?" you ask to put her out of her misery.

"I just… needed to get out of the house. We walked around town for a while before going to his parent's house," she says. "They still don't know. We wanted to tell y'all first." You nod, unable to give words to your gratitude just yet, and she swallows thickly.  

"You could've stayed," you whisper. "I wanted you to stay."

"I know," she says. "I'm sorry. For everything." She looks like she could start crying again, so you take a deep breath, scoot over to her, wrap her in your arms, and kiss her temple. You feel her relax into you, and a weight is lifted off your shoulders.

"You know your dad and I worry about you. It's not about you not being capable or not smart enough because you are plenty capable and smart. But we also know that it doesn't matter how prepared you think you are. There's nothing that can prepare you for being a parent, and that's not me trying to scare you. It's just how it is." You explain, and she nods into your neck. 

"That's what Ellie said, too." She says. 

"Smart kid." 

"I feel like I fucked up," she pivots dramatically, but you hold on tightly and wait for her to continue. I'm right here with you, baby girl, you think. "I want to be happy because Eric seems happy, and you're supposed to be happy when you find out you're pregnant, but I'm so fucking scared." She sounds like she's on the brink of tears again, and you shush her. She sighs heavily and wipes at her face as she leans back enough to see you. "Were you scared when you found out you were pregnant?"

"Both times, I was fucking terrified. With you, it came later, though. Even though your dad and I talked about having another kid and how amazing you'd end up being, I remember going into labor and shaking cause of how scared I was." You say, and she nods. 

"How did you... know you were supposed to be a mom? She asks. It's a loaded question. How does anyone ever know they're "supposed" to be a parent? You certainly didn't think you were meant for anything that important at sixteen, but you do remember why you made the decision you did. 

"I, um…" you trail off, laughing. "I started having these dreams after I found out I was pregnant."

"Dreams?" 

"It was pretty much the same thing over and over again for a few months. I would be going through my regular routine, but this… baby was following me around. I couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl, but I knew it was my baby. And it came with me to school, the grocery store, work, everything, and as time passed in my dream, the bigger the baby got. They'd get more personality or start laughing, or their eyes would change colors, and I'd be so in love with them," You know you sound crazy, but that's because it was crazy. "The first few times, I woke up crying because the baby from my dreams wasn't there. I thought there was nothing worse than waking up in the morning and not having my kid there," you say. The weight of your words catches up with you, and you have to bite your bottom lip to keep from crying. "And I was right." You shake your head and take a deep breath, hyper-aware of her eyes on you.

"I had the same dreams when I got pregnant with you, except they were a little different. In all of them, you were always with Ellie and Dad— every single time. I thought you were gonna grow up and not like me as much or whatever other reason my hormones gave me for the change, but, towards the end, you started showing up alone. You were just this little light. I can't describe it exactly, but everything I did in the dream was a little more magical because you were there. Things were shiny or glittery, and you would just giggle and giggle and giggle," you say, smiling at the memory. You grab her hand and squeeze hard, looking directly into her eyes and fighting more tears. "You turned my world technicolor even before you were born, and I knew I would always do everything I could to protect you. That's why I was so hard on Eric. I know he's a good kid and nothing like Jane's dad was, but I don't want you to end up like me, kid." Charlie squeezes your hand, somehow harder than you squeeze her, and a familiar crease appears between her eyebrows.

"Mommy, if I'm half the woman you are, I'd be so fucking happy. Are you kidding me?" She says. 

"Charlotte-" 

"I'm serious," she cuts you off, Joel's commanding yet gentle tone seeping into her voice. "Mom, you made my lunch until I was in high school, and even when I asked you to stop, you still had one ready to go just in case I needed it. You used to take JJ and me to the park so Ellie and Aunt Dina could get some sleep, even though everyone knew that meant you didn't get any. You convinced Dad to talk to Eric because you knew I loved him and wanted him to like him..." She slows down a little bit, scanning your face before she continues. "You kept a kid alive during the Outbreak despite everything. You still buy her flowers on her birthday. You tell me about her. You let me know her," you take a shaky breath, and you can't stop the tears anymore. "You're a good mom, and I'm so lucky to have you, and I'm sorry for what I said and for getting pregnant and-" 

This time, you stop her by hugging her tight and letting yourself cry. She gets emotional, too, and a very unlucky Joel finds the two of you crying on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night. Like everything, he takes it in stride and joins you two on the floor until the sun breaches over the mountains and a new day shines down. 

It's hard to say things got easier after that day. Eric's parents didn't react very positively at first, and it took them most of her pregnancy to come around. Charlie goes through weeks of sickness and bed rest. They argue a lot about the future and what it should look like, but they get there in the end. The next year, the house is filled with a familiar chatter and chaos. Charlie and Eric's twins (which explains why she felt so bad), Elliot "Ellie" Beth, and April Theresa Miller-Donovan, squeal as Joel takes turns dancing with them in the living room.

Elliot is, obviously, named in honor of your Ellie, but she bears Sarah's middle name. April threw you for a loop. The twins were born in snowy January, confusing you as to why they would name her that and not January, but Charlie smiled as she handed April to you. "Jane's birthday is April 7th. I didn't want to steal your name, but I remember you taking me to the meadow to pick flowers for her. April 7th was always my favorite day." She explained, making you choke up. When she told you April's middle name, you and Joel completely lost it. Theresa, for your Tess, the woman who believed so much in Ellie, she forced you to believe in her, too. The woman who saved your life in more ways than one. The woman who would've absolutely adored Charlie if she ever met her. 

You love being grandparents again— admittedly, a little older than you were the first time around. Joel teaches the girls Spanish words and lets them pull on his beard. You make extra food so your baby has something to eat after the long days and nights of keeping them alive, and you play silly games with them. They don't look like you or Joel or even Charlie or Eric. They look like their own little people. People who will never know the loss, destruction, and nights spent staring hopelessly at walls you went through. People who will grow up safe and loved and cared for. People who carry names they won't be able to put a face to. 

That's okay. They don't need to know about the people you were before you were their grandparents, and maybe it's time for you to try to let that time go. Maybe, in your and Joel's old age, with the deep wrinkles and graying hair, you can just be. Maybe you can just dance in the living room and make warm blankets and fall asleep holding hands. Maybe everything does turn out okay.

[starsfic]

Aimed the Killshot at Himself

Summary: Inspired by a prompt by @aconstantstateofbladerunner - what could have been, if not for you - After Inko divorces him, Hisashi’s goes to the press to say All Might stole his wife and son.

Notes: So, uh, started poking around My Hero Academia. I haven't really heard good things about the canon stuff, especially its treatment of the female characters and issues with Tell not Show, but I have found a lot of fanworks I enjoyed!

He got the news after class.

"Hey, uh, Dekiru?" Ashido said, peering at her phone. They had all stopped calling him Deku after Bakugo's third assault on him got his parents called and his former fri- bully expelled and his actions in Aldera revealed to the class, mostly through Auntie Mitsuki's yelling. For a while, it had been awkward in class, especially around the Bakusquad, but things had gone back to normal with a new nickname for him. "Do you know a guy by the name of Midoriya Hisashi?"

Izuku looked up from his homework, where he was helping Shouto and Ochaco pick out a pre-Quirk hero to do their project for history class on. Tenya had already picked Joan of Arc. He hadn't heard the name in a while. Not since his mom and All Might started dating and she had to sit him down to explain the truth about her and his dad's relationship.

"Uh, yeah. He's my bio dad," he admitted, practically feeling Shouto's eyes go wide. He had been so certain about his bio-son theory, especially when his parents decided to tie the knot. "He moved to the United States when he and my mom divorced." Because he had been Quirkless.

It had been a tough pill to swallow, even though he hadn't seen the man since he was four.

"Well, uh...he's claiming that All Might stole your mom from him."

He blinked. He blinked again. The words stalled in his brain for a few seconds. Not even just the fact that he was in Japan again.

"What?!"

Ashido turned on the TV, flipping it until they reached a news channel. "-foreign market manager, Midoriya Hisashi, claims that the former Symbol of Peace, All Might, used his influence in order to send him on a twelve-year post in New York City in order to seduce his wife Midoriya Inko, now Hayashi-Yagi Inko-"

A slam on the table made him flinch, turning his head. "I refuse to believe that!" Ochaco bellowed, looking ready to bolt out and find Hisashi to fist-fight him. "Zuzu-san's mom would never do that!"

Shouto followed her, little flames puffing out as he hissed, his usual blank expression taken over by anger. "Inko-sama is the kindest, pure-hearted woman I have ever met," he said. "Her first concern is for Midoi." Tenya nodded furiously, his own face turning red, clearly too upset to even bother about a lecture about how heroes like All Might would never sink to that level.

"Aww," Izuku couldn't help the coo even as he pulled out his phone and typed in her number. "I'll tell her that you guys said that." He had to check on her. He knew she was probably fine, but she had received such nasty words when she and All Might came out.

"A lot of people agree with you guys too," Ashido said, scrolling on her phone. Next to her, Tsu and Jiro had pulled out their phones and were smiling at whatever they saw. "People are speaking up against the accusation, mostly for All Might-"

"But a lot of people love your mom, kero," Tsu said, her shoulders shaking. "There's even a tag trending called #DefendMsMight, kero,"

His phone picked up. "Izuku?" his mom said. Instead of tears like he almost expected, it sounded like she was laughing. "Izuku, did you see the news?"

"I did," he said, his heart slowing down. She wasn't hurt, she wasn't even upset. If his bio dad expected this to break her, he was wrong. "Tsu was telling me that a lot of people were defending you online."

"We love you, Inko-sama!" Shouto called.

That received a sniffle. "I love you guys too!" she called, probably crying at the affectionate title. Her voice suddenly sharpened in strange, bloodthirsty, glee. "But Hisashi's getting dragged everywhere and I love it."

"...like, now? Or before the lawyers get him?"

"Yes."

[the-possum-writes]

Hello, could you make Marshall Lee x Human doctor female reader?

✨✨✨✨

Surviving the apocalypse, one bandage at a time

Character: Marshall Lee

Tags: Descriptions of injury, fem!reader, canon typical violence, set during the mushroom war, (hasn't been proofread)

Synopsis:

Life during an apocalypse is difficult enough as it is; imagine how much more difficult it becomes if you are inherently compassionate and well-meaning by nature. There's gonna be people taking advantage of that and today is just another reminder of it.

Wordcount: 1047

Tag list: @foxpearlwilder

While searching for anything important through a pile of rubble you suddenly hear faint pleas for help around the corner, so you run there with only your medical supplies and around three days' worth of food and water. Even if the world ended, it wouldn't completely change you as a person; back then when you were working at a hospital, you'd skip lunch on occasion to save more time to help someone in need, and today was no exception even if it meant losing out on supplies. The main difference is that people were not struggling as much as they are now. As you approach the corner, you notice something strange: the cries abruptly end and you're left in complete silence. Just when you start wondering if this is all in your head, you're proven wrong the worst way possible when then your foot steps on a metallic platform and sharp spikes bite into your ankle, suddenly you're the one screaming for help.

It's then that three stragglers emerge from their hiding places with daggers in their hands; you beg them to release you, but they have other priorities and ignore your pleas but take all of your belongings instead. While they talk among themselves you drop into the ground into a dissociative state.

"Anything good?" One of the stragglers asks another.

"Nah, just a bunch of bandages and ointments."

Their conversation fades into background noise as you try to pry the bear trap from your ankle, but every time you place your fingertips on either side of its jaws, it only makes you whimper at the pain crawling up the rest of your leg like a million bee stings. The sight isn't pleasant either, but the only reason you managed to pull your eyes away from your hurt leg is because the stragglers stopped talking when one of them began violently choking. The creature that appeared is one you've only heard about in campfire stories from other survivors and don't want to see in person, but here it is, its ashy gray skin contrasting against the struggler's dark clothing and vivid blood dripping from its mouth as it chops through the poor fool's neck. The lingering pain on your leg was nothing but an afterthought as you frantically attempt force the beartrap open although it meant ruining your leg further, but a damaged leg is nothing compared to the fate waiting for you if the vampire get's it's claws on you, and at that moment it's like the vampire thought the same thing cause once it finished eating the scavenges it immediately looked in your direction with it's cold dead blue eyes. With the monster now aware of you, you barely open the trap enough for your leg to slip though even if the teeth ripped through pieces of your skin but even then with blood running down your foot you still get up and make a break for it. But what good is running away with a broken ankle?

Just when the thought came you once again fall down, grabbing onto anything nearby to defend yourself as the monster looms over you.

The creature eyes you like a succulent meal but it would never have the chance to taste your flesh because of the pointy wood stake suddenly bursting through its chest, it takes a second for the monster to process it just like you do, cause by the time it looked down at it's chest it immediately proofed into a dust cloud and reveals the man behind it. He inhales the dust cloud left behind by the feral vampire and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, burping a bit as if he just ate a delicious hamburger.

His wild hair is the color of molasses and sticks all over the place with only a side ponytail keeping his eyes clear, although the ashy skin is something to be concerned over the only reason you're not jumping away in terror is because of his eyes, they're a fascinating ruby red that look down at you with what you can only hope is sympathy.

"You okay girlie?" He asks, voice smooth like chocolate.

"... Kinda." You mumble, directing your view to your messed up leg.

"Oh dang, that looks bad."

"Just bring me my bag." You grunt through clenched teeth.

The stranger nods and floats away, I repeat- the stranger with the unnatural eyes, skin and food preference also happens to float! If it wasn't because of your damaged leg you would've ran away from this guy the second he showed up, but alas, fate is taking you on a rollercoaster ride today and by the looks of it it had no intention of slowing down yet.

Atleast he's not as bloodthirsty as the other one. The stranger brought you your bag and even the stuff that was thrown around by the scavengers, he didn't speak to you during the whole thing but he did loom over as he watched you work on your leg with practiced hands even though the dried up tears and quivering lips. He did ask at one point "Don't you need something for the pain?"

You shook your head as you held a scalpel in your mouth, taking it with your free hand as you add. "I would, but I'm both the patient and the doctor so..." You struggled a bit to tie the final knot with one hand so the stranger gripped it with both hands for you and tied it together, he did it a bit too tight but that's just what you need to make sure nothing gets out of place.

"Thanks, for everything I mean." You finally voice out in a meek voice, now that the risk of bleeding out wasn't at the top of your mind.

"Don't sweat it, it's just another day on the job." He responds with well earned confidence if he's constantly hunting vampires that easily. "Are you gonna be okay wandering around with a broken foot?"

You grab a nearby tree branch and use it as an improvised walking cane, struggling to get up and balance yourself with one foot. "I will be... eventually, I've been at it for a while for a hurt leg won't stop me-" it's then that your tree branch breaks in half but the stranger holds you with one arm to prevent you from kissing up the urban pavement.

"Now, I ain't no babysitter but how about you stick around me for a while?" A suggestion you hesitate to accept when you catch sight of his sharp fangs, but considering your options, he's probably the safest companion available right now.

"Alright. But only until I get better."

____

And that's how you begin your short road trip with the stranger you've come to know as Marshall Lee, he still gives you the creeps but he doesn't need food to survive so that's already a game changer now that you don't have to share every can of beans you miraculously found along the way. However that doesn't take away how much of a show off and a tease he can be, especially when you need his help or he brags about his latest kill that week, you usually shrug him off and feed a bit into his ego but hey; anything to keep other vampires away. It's after a short while that he came back to you after a hunt with a pretty nasty scratch over his chest, the second you caught sight of the darken stain on his shirt you immediately jumped to your feet and went up to him with your doctor's bag, he'd wave off the injury saying something like "It's nothing, it'll heal on its own tomorrow. You should've seen the other guy though-!" Marshall nonchalantly brings up but that doesn't reassure you in the slightest, especially with how brutal you've seen other vampires attack.

"Marshall you're bleeding bucket loads! Atleast let me patch it up, now, take off your shirt." You exclaim.

He crooked an eyebrow at that, making light of the situation. "Hey girl, if you wanted to see me shirtless you could've asked-" he wanted to keep joking about it but you gave him a stare that only meant you were in "doctor mode" and didn't have time for any jokes. He raised his hands in defense, "Alright, alright, give me a second." Marshall did as he was told and raised the shirt over his head and gave you a good look at the large gash over his chest, you soon take action and start the usual procedure you do on your patients, disinfect the wound, try to clean it the best you can before adding ointment and gauze tape. Just like any usual day on the job. Glob, how do you miss those days. Marshall stayed quiet during the whole thing just like when you first two met, he liked seeing you work, that concentrated expression on your face and the way you moved fast but precise, as if you committed the process to muscle memory without double thinking anything.

"Where'd you learn to do all the medical stuff? Doesn't it take like, a crazy long time to learn it?"

You shrug, not minding the small talk. "I used to do first aid service for the red cross in highschool and was on my first years of studying medicine before the bombs fell, still, I performed medical attention to survivors back at my old camp." You explain as brief as you can, still focusing on wrapping the gauze over him.

"Makes sense and educated gal like you lives in a camp, the only folks I see out in the wastelands that aren't mutated are those vault dwellers."

"I don't live at the camp anymore, that's why when you found me I was on my own." You clarify.

"Huh. Why not go back to them? you guys seem to do better in groups than on your own. Who knows what monsters are waiting to ambush a pretty gal like you." He makes a snark remark on that, you're unsure if the monsters he's talking about since almost everything out here seems to get you

Your hands pause a bit, looking up at those red eyes that are now swimming in dark pools just like his hair. "You mean like the vampires, or the scavengers, or...?"

"Me." He confirms.

It's then that you lower your gaze to his chest realizing how his wound healed up faster than your ointments could even if you perfected the formula or had the right ingredients. Your hands went up to remove the gauze and the bandages, with your palms mindlessly running through his exposed chest as if you were still processing the fact he regenerated it in a matter of minutes, it's then that Marshall raised your hand to the upper left side where his heart would be but you don't feel it's beat. Almost like a corpse. "What are you?" You finally ask.

"Me? I'm the son of a vampire, and maybe half demon. Don't tell me it scares you out now?"

You laugh briefly, raising your hand to his cheek. "Not at all."

[liveontelevision]

Hallo!!! I’d just like to say to start I ADORE your work! Especially with Lucifer, the way you depict him is SO refreshing you have no idea.. your work practically canon in my eyes I love it!!! You’re super awesome.

I did also notice that in your Lucifer works you talked about his more ‘unappealing’ traits, so-to-speak. Like his temper, his possessiveness, and especially his paranoia and panic.

I suffer with a paranoia disorder and some ptsd of my own, and it was really nice to have those traits made known, but not have them severely criticized, y’know?

I understand and agree that Lucifer would need a patient partner when it comes to these things, someone to stick around and be reassuring through it all; And while they can get frustrated, not criticize or even leave him for it; something I theorize may have been a reason for Lilith’s own departure.

But what if the reason for the reader’s patience is because of their own panic issues? Or their own temper?

Now to be fair, not sure how i’d exactly want it to go. It could be them comforting him when he panics, or Lucifer when they panic, or just a simple heart-to-heart about their combined struggle and the resilience that is forged because of that…

Like while their breath quickens, hands clutching into their thighs as their brain practically screams at them to calm down through all the mind-numbing internal noise; boiling tears stream down their face as they shiver within the darkness of an empty corridor. Perhaps Lucifer steps around, bearing witness to their storming off, getting a glimpse of the uglier side of their lover. The strange, uncomfortable, terrified side of them. But that isn’t what he sees, not at all. His gaze softens as he stares into their tear-blinded irises and carefully sits in front of them. He sees a person. A real, true human being.

(hahaaa got a bit too silly sorry xP)

All I know is that I think Lucifer, while also being equally concerned, would appreciate having someone who could understand what he’s going through; Well, as close as a sinner could get to understanding it, at least.

But what do you think? Would he act any different? I’d love to know ^^ ❤️

Thank you so much for getting into these details! After reading this I realized how much I connected my own mental struggles to what I write. So just seeing that you're about to relate to it as well made me feel really good :)

This was honestly a little hard for me, trying to get into this mindset. Even though it's not super motivated by Lucifer's character, I kinda needed to write this for myself honestly :') but still, I hope you enjoy this!

---

Comfort

CW: Descriptions of depression and panic attacks, flulff, angst

You were head of heels for Lucifer. And you’d do anything for him, that goes without saying, even if you do enjoy seeing his reaction to your devotion. You knew Lucifer as the king of Hell before anything else, so your first impression of him was obviously different from the Lucifer you know and love today. He was always portrayed in media as some suave, flirtatious, powerful being. No one dared talk negatively about him, his true authority being misinterpreted as pure malicious intent. But that didn’t stop the media from tearing Charlie apart. Why didn’t he defend his daughter then? In summary, Lucifer was known for two things; incredible power and little consideration for the actual ongoings of Hell, even with whatever his daughter was involved with. At first. His saving the hotel, defending Hell on extermination day, and encouraging his daughter, was the side of him that only a handful of trusted people could experience firsthand.

Luckily, you got to be one of those people. It’s easy to take his goofy exposure and temper and make it appear that he is an aloof king. But no one can handle being a hermit for centuries without having a different view on life. And being an outcast from his original realm? Being abandoned by his brothers? Even the most powerful demon couldn't experience that without it taking a mental toll. That was obvious. Comforting Lucifer would never be an easy task, even for someone who’s experienced exactly what he has. And who knows exactly how close Lillith was to him? Was she able to see him in this state? Was it another factor of himself that he chose to bury in fear of rejection and abandonment? It was a pitiful thought, but definitely not an impossible one.

Whether or not you truly understood Lucifer's past, you wanted to be there for him. It felt good to comfort such a powerful being, being an anchor for someone who has an absurd amount of baggage. But it’s not like you always knew what you were doing. You weren’t this perfectly healthy person who knew what to say all the time. When you first got together, you had your doubts about even having feelings for him. He was an icon, a celebrity, royalty. It was great he confided in you, but was his status clouding your judgment? Were you only enjoying the dominance you had over his emotional state because of who he was? Was your admiration misconstrued as love? It took a while for you to get over this mindset. The longer you were together, the less it became you constantly praising and fawning over him, the more it became being in love with your best friend.

You didn’t really bother to bring any of this up to him, the idea made you cringe. Would bringing up your doubts about the relationship only transfer those feelings to him as well? The moment passed, so there’s no need to get him worked up over nothing.

That’s a great example of how your mind works. You assumed that all these spiraling questions, that brought you to the brink of tears, just went away. That, because you realized how much you loved him and how much he loved you, that meant that you never needed to express these thoughts. Nothing could be done about it, those feelings were in the past. Why bring it up now?

There was also the question of how much you gave into the relationship. You gave Lucifer your all, gave him your heart and body, and yet you don’t feel comfortable enough to share your own suffering? You could've blamed Lucifer if you wanted. He should be supporting you the same way you support him. Or you could blame yourself. Obviously, if you wanted support you should feel comfortable asking for it. But why do you have to ask? Lucifer never asked for it. Why don’t you feel comfortable sharing your feelings? Your own trauma? What’s wrong with you?

That ended up being your downfall. Nothing ever just goes away. How could you constantly comfort Lucifer and push him to let out what he needs to, yet refuse to express anything that truly upset you? Demons are essentially immortal, these feelings couldn't be bottled up forever. But they can be bottled up until you break.

Lucifer had an especially rough day, he was looking forward to finding his sweetheart and venting about how shitty his meetings went and how Alastor pissed him off, along with some other daily struggles. That’s all it was; a daily vent session that helped him decompress. What he wasn’t realizing was how much that affected you. It wasn’t really his fault, or he wasn't doing it on purpose at least. You weren’t really the type to share your own struggles, you mentioned that to him once or twice. You felt that crying and letting it all out, venting about struggles that simply don’t need to be discussed, none of that really helped you when you were struggling. But today, you were struggling. 

“Ugh! That tacky son of a bitch made fun of my suit today, can you believe it? Like - I mean - C’mon! We basically wear the same things but in different colors, I don’t know what he’s on about. Oh, and I had to go to the Embassy today. Luckily I didn’t need to meet with anyone but I - “ As Lucifer started his long-winded complaints, he stripped himself of his boots, hat, and jacket, then approached you. You were lying in bed, which wouldn't exactly be strange if it were early in the morning or late at night, but it was nearly dinner time. You were wearing your usual pajamas and had been scrolling through your phone for who knows how long. Did you have anything to do today? You didn’t have time to think about that.

Lucifer placed a quick kiss on your forehead, then between words, one on each cheek, then a final, slightly lingering, kiss on your lips. He finally plopped down and laid perpendicular to your lounging body, laying his head in your lap and looking into the ceiling as he went on. You set your phone aside, that had been plugged in and turned on since late last night, leaving it hot to the touch in your hand. You had become numb to it at this point.

None of this seemed to really come off as an issue to you. Who doesn't have a day or two where they can't get out of bed? You were sure you’d be ready to get back to work the next day, so it’s not a problem. Plus, Lucifer was here! You could get some quality time in with him and convince yourself that you weren't wasting a whole day. He went on and on. Talking about the Embassy got him on the topic of Heaven, which led to him sharing a story of how his brothers weren’t supportive of a specific invention he was sharing. “It was really something, you know. If I could've just been accepted by them, if they supported me.. like you do! maybe things could've been different. Maybe - “ Plop. Lucifer flinched at the sudden drop of water that hit his cheek. He wiped it away before finally discovering its source.

You were crying. It was silent, and you were holding your breath to prevent it from turning you into a heaving, sobbing, mess. Lucifer was quick to sit up, seating himself on his knees as he tried to question your disposition. He was finally noticing your overall situation. You are in the same spot that he left you in this morning, wearing the same pajamas, scrolling through the same phone that never left the nightstand. He started to feel ashamed that he didn’t notice any of this sooner. You had shifted your gaze downwards, picking at your clawed fingers like you would your skin when you were alive. This is embarrassing. You don’t want him to see you this way, you look like a mess. You tried your best to keep tears from coming from your eyes, but the fact that Lucifer was sitting near you in absolute silence somehow made it worse. You hitched your breath, trying to control your emotions in any way, then let out a shaky exhale that made your body shrink.

The moment seemed to go on forever. It felt like his eyes were burning into you. You had to do something. Anything. “I’m okay! I’m okay, Luci. Sorry, J-Just a rough day. But it's over now! We can just relax now. Promise.” You quickly said, your voice raspy due to it being the first words you had spoken today. You shifted yourself over, pulling the blanket aside and patting the spot next to you. Lucifer didn’t know how to respond. He’s seen you like this before, everyone has rough days. And why would you lie to him? You could go to him for anything. You knew that, right? He reluctantly moved into the bed, holding his arm out to allow you to snuggle into his side, finally resting your head on the center of his chest. Your eyes looked vacantly towards the other side of the room, as your finger mindlessly traced the seems on the side of his shirt. A monotonous task that kept your mind on anything other than how you were feeling. Today was just one of those days where every little problem you’d encounter was tipping you over the edge, sending you into a spiraling mess.

He knew something was wrong. He didn’t push you away, you clearly needed the contact, but the warm spot that you created from staying in bed all day was apparent when he went in to hold you. Sure, he’s seen you like this before. But this was different. “Darling..? Erm.. Sorry, I didn’t get a chance to - I should’ve.. How was your day, love? Wanna.. talk about it?” He always struggled with words. It’d take him a while, but he’d always manage to get what he intended when he spoke. “Oh, um.. It was good.. My day was good. Didn’t do much, but that’s okay. Just a relaxation day I suppose.” Ah, relaxation. You’ve used that word before. He always wondered; How come relaxation never meant going to a spa or doing something legitimately soothing? Was laying in bed all day really what you considered relaxing?

“ I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry. Go on, you were talking about your brothers? What were you - “ Your diversion was immediately noticed. Before you could even finish your question, Lucifer had taken your chin and angled your head upward to look at him. It was a struggle for you to meet his eyes. You gulped, and no matter how much you wanted to pull away from his grasp, you didn’t. Tears were welling in your eyes the whole time, and even though your breath had calmed, you still seemed winded. “Please tell me what’s wrong. Please. Let me help.” It seemed like everything just fell into place. Lucifer finally picked up on things you never realized came from your insecurities and paranoia. And he wanted to fix it, not stop it, actually fix it. You hated how the idea of it surprised you. It shouldn't, of course, he’d do this for you.

“ I-I promise it’s nothing.. I’ve just been feeling off today, I just want to be close to you. That always helps.” You smiled up at him. No matter how forced, he returned your smile. “Well.. Do you think.. Talking would help?” You tensed up as he spoke, an obvious sensation to Lucifer since you laid suddenly uncomfortably on his chest. “Hun, you know that stuff really isn’t for me… I don’t benefit from that, I think. So don’t worry. Just - be here. For me? Can you do that?” You began to sound agitated. It wasn’t an aggressive plea, more like a plea for this conversation to be over. He wasn’t a huge fan of how you spoke, it came off as a sort of insult to him. Did you not think he could help you in the same way you did for him? He could try. He wanted to try.

He planted a small kiss on your forehead, then traced his hand up and down your back, feeling your tension melt as he did so. He pressed his cheek against the top of your head and picked up your hand in his. He traced your palm, running along the wrinkles and folds of your skin, then lightly grazed his claw up the length of each of your fingers. He sent a starfish motion across the entirety of your hand before finally interlacing your fingers. You stared at his movements the whole time, watching only for a moment before your eyes glazed over, leaving you in a sort of mindless state. He squeezed your hand after giving it attention, which brought you back to reality. Your eyes had continued to drip, leaving a few small specks of wetness on the part of his shirt that sat below your face. With the newfound grip he had on your hand, he pulled your still clasped hands up to his face, rubbing his cheek on the back of your hand before pressing gentle kisses across your knuckles. His eyes looked at you, half-lidded, with your hands still held to his lips.

Well, you weren't lying when you said being around him helped. Just the sight of him caring for you in this way, calmed your mood. You managed to accept that your actions today wernt like you. That something had taken over in your mind to keep you weighed down in your shared bed. “Thank you.” It barely came out as a whisper when you said it, bringing your clasped hands to your own lips and pressing a kiss on his own knuckles in response. “Of course, love. Anything for you. I mean it.” These actions weren't exactly new to the two of you, these were methods you occasionally used to help Lucifer fall asleep, or calm him down after a rough day. But he was using it on you. He had learned how to take care of you, by watching what you do. Noticing how you act on a daily basis and how that contrasts from the version of you he’s seeing right now. It was a subconscious transaction that you two had. But when you did notice it happening, you could hardly contain the mixed emotions you felt. Embarrassment, Pride, Love.. 

“ I mean it.” He repeated, snapping you from whatever state of mind you caught yourself in, “You know that, don’t you? You know I can help you, right? ” Now, this was new. He’s never questioned you like this. For some reason, it became difficult to respond. To admit that you knew he had your best interest in mind. “Tell me.” He wasn’t demanding, he seemed genuinely concerned as he spoke. Your cheeks flushed, feeling some sort of embarrassment. “Y-Yeah, I know.” You were quiet, still.

Lucifer didn’t seem completely convinced. “I’m sure you do. But can’t you just.. I want to know what goes on in your head.. If that makes sense. I don’t know, maybe I’m overthinking this - No, I want you to try and talk to me. Just try?” You almost scoffed, trying to play it off as some kind of joke. “It’s not important, I’m feeling better now, that’s what’s important.” 

That’s when he became agitated. He gently sat up, lifting you up with him. “No! It still matters. Tell me how you feel. Or - how you felt, I don’t know..! Talk to me. Please.” He had a tight grasp on your arms, almost shaking you as he spoke. You tried to calm down, you really did, but you felt forced into talking. Not in a negative manner, just in the way that your instinct to isolate yourself in this state was being challenged. You were physically reacting, tensing under his touch and lowering your eyes to the point he couldn't see them. You rubbed your hands against your thighs, trying to figure out what to say. It seemed like it took too long for you to respond. When you did it came out in the form of broken sobs, your hands moved from your thighs to your cheeks, running your forearm across your face to wipe tears. You broke.

You finally open up about your day. About how today, you felt like you didn't have any reason to get out of bed, how it felt okay to just rot there. You tried your best to describe what makes you this way, but you really weren't all that sure yourself. And despite how much Lucifer struggles with his own words, you were almost silent when it came to describing how you felt. He would nod his head and keep a calm composure, just like you do for him. It took everything in him to just hold you as tight as he could, to repeat I'm so sorry and it'll be okay and I love you so much. But that's not what you'd do at this moment, and he realized how much he'd hate that for himself. It’d feel disingenuous. You loved physical affections, even the slightest intimate moments were improved by a simple hand-holding, or just sitting close to Lucifer. And right now, you felt ashamed for wanting to push him away. But you didn't.

He cooed you, and pulled you in close, his arms engulfing your curled up body. He continued to rub your back, just like you’d do for him, and would ask if you needed anything multiple times, even if you politely rejected each time. Just to be safe. You let out a gross mixture of sobs and apologies, and possibly some things that you’d regret saying later, but the dam was broken at this point. After you had calmed down, he loosened his grasp to let you sit up, your body stiff from holding it in that position for so long. He was quick to create some tissues out of thin air and hand them to you, catching sight of your reddened eyes and nose, but he also made it a point to not stare at you. He’d turn his gaze to the floor, or to your hands, or he’d rest his head on top of yours. “So..? How are you doing?” He almost sounded nervous when he asked as if he might have messed up at some point. “I feel disgusting.” You said bluntly, your voice nasally due to your nose being so stuffed up. He chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I told you this stuff doesn't work for me, I feel awful still.” A bittersweet smile hit his face, but you were still making it a point to keep your eyes away. “I know, love. But, I’m glad you did it. I’m.. well, I’m glad you’re talking to me - I know it was hard.. So.. thank you, I suppose. You did good.” His words were choppy as if he was still figuring out what he wanted to say. He said what he needed to though.

You let out an absolutely exhausted sigh and leaned back into his chest, bringing both of you back down onto the bed. After a bit more backrubbing and hums of affection, you finally lift your head to look up at him. He was absolutely glowing. The smile on his face brought you butterflies that you didn't realize could resurface after being with someone for so long. “You did so well~” He said in a low tone, keeping his eyes locked on yours, and keeping your head turned upwards by gently holding your chin. “W-Well, don’t say it like that.. Perv..” You let your suddenly dirtied mind blurt out a nervous response. “Hey, that one’s on you. I would never proposition a damsel in distress.” He tapped your nose, speaking in a theatrical voice, before meeting your lips in a much-needed kiss. “Love you.” You muttered into his lips, only to feel his smile form in response. His eyes weld with affection for you when he pulled away. “I love you.”

Even if you felt awful after your little outburst, the reality of laying in bed all day finally hit you with a burst of adrenaline. You weren’t able to sleep after that and Lucifer had no complaints about that. The rest of the night was spent doing silly little things, Lucifer demanded you do your nightly routine, insisting it would help your mood. He provided snacks, started a movie that you mentioned you wanted to see a while ago, and sat behind you as he either brushed your hair or spent the time to give you a thorough massage.

You were so proud of him. You always struggled alone when this kind of thing happened. And, although a little awkward, he was exactly what you needed him to be at that moment.

---

OMG LOOK AT MY LITTLE TAG LIST ILY GUYS:

( @vififofum @thornwolfy235 @tinywolfiegirl @chipper-chip @bat-boness @misfitgirlwrites @nayomi247 @lonelynmisunderstood )