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obae-me · 9 months

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The Reunion We Deserved

I said I would do it and so I did, all in one night, one sitting, fueled by nothing but determination, random inspiration, and spite. I re-wrote and created my version of what I would've liked to see at the end of Nightbringer Season 2. Is this a bit dramatic? Yes? Is this the kind of thing I wanted anyway? Yes. I want sobbing, I want people being pathetic, I want emotion, I want it all. So, if that's what you were hoping to see for lesson 40, I hope this can ease some of that anger we had.

Spoilers ahead for Nightbringer since this is quite literally my "remaking" of the ending, which includes in-game references to later lessons!

TW: Blood mention, injury, angst.

Word Count: 4,391

Tears pricked your eyes as you looked upon the several smiling faces of the demons you had come to care for. At the beginning, all you could think of was returning to your home, your time-line, your brothers. You had coped thus far by constantly reminding yourself that these were not the same people you had come to know. But now… after delving into their souls, reforging the pacts, fleeing down the different circles of hell to save one only to nearly lose them all… they’d found their way into your heart once more. How could you? How could you leave them so easily? And tell them to their faces that you’d meet again soon when you knew it was a lie. It might be soon for you, but it would be nearly an eternity for them. Not to mention that the way Solomon and Barbatos described it, this was almost like another universe… Would another version of you show up for them? Or would you leave these particular brothers for good?…

Feet frozen in sorrow and anxiousness, you could only look at them and cry. What were you feeling in this very second, now that you were on the cusp of what you had worked so hard for? The way back home was right above you, the air and magic inches away from sucking you up into it’s mystical vacuum. Your precious family, your home was one step away. So why did it also feel like your heart was being torn from you? “I—“ Your words choked up in your throat. You were tempted to tell them everything right there and then, spill the burden you had been carrying on your shoulder this entire time.

“It’ll be alright,” Lucifer spoke up, seeing your worry, but exuding nothing but confidence himself. “I gave you my blessing after all.”

“Plus, with the Great Mammon’s pact, you’re hella lucky! You’ll get home with no problems, I’d bet on it! S-So you better not make me lose, got it? Get home safe…and happy.”

Levi shook his head a little. “You’d bet on anything wouldn’t you…” But then he turned his head back towards you, nearly just as bold as Lucifer in this one moment. “If someone like me can have courage, you can too. Don’t worry! You’re just like a Main Character! You have indestructible plot armor!”

“Did everyone already forget the white dragon I helped summon?” Satan scoffed. “Their safety and success is guaranteed. So don’t give us that face,” he addressed you.

“Besides!” Asmo perked up. “If anything happened we’d all come rushing to save you! Just like we did for Lucifer. If we can do that, we can do anything! Oo, I just said something real dashing just now! You better take that to heart, hun!”

Beel nodded several times. “You have Luke’s wish egg too. I also made wishes over my eggs at breakfast this morning. I wished for you to always feel healthy and full and loved. And that we’d get to see each other again soon.”

“Those eggs might’ve tasted magical Beel, but they weren’t really…” Belphie looked up his twin as he shook his head, but then he shrugged, coming to the conclusion that it wasn’t worth explaining. “Hey,” he stared at you. “Don’t waste your energy crying now. You’ll need all your strength for your journey. I won’t forgive you if you leave too sad.”

All their words ended up making you laugh, the smile across your face twitching as you worked to force out trembling words. “You all better be kind to one another.” Someone behind you was tugging on your arm. “And make sure you don’t tease Luke too hard.”

“Come on,” Solomon whispered softly to you, tugging you a little harder, making you take a few steps back. The rift in space-time started to roar, attempting to drown out your voice as you struggled for these last few seconds.

“And make sure you all remember to eat and sleep properly. A-and, tell the others at the ceremony that I love them. I… love you all so much.”

“We have to go…” Solomon’s voice sounded tense, like he was nearly ready to cry himself, only keeping himself strong for you. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he nearly hoisted you back himself. Before you left, you reached into the pocket of your pants, fishing out the letter that you had written alone in your old room, what seemed like forever ago now, the one still stained with old tears. You tossed it to the ground in front of you, hoping they would read it, hoping it would help…them live without you.

The last thing you heard was a chorus of cracking voices, getting cut off before they could tell you they loved you too…

And then you were gone. A harsh and forceful wind seemed to suck all the air from your breath. It was almost as if you were being plunged underwater, several forces of pressure from the thousands of years you were swirling past was threatening to crush you. The only sensation you were aware of was Solomon’s. His arms were holding onto you tightly, continuing to mutter spells over and over and over again to keep you safe, expending all of his waining power to push you both through the folds of reality and out on the other side.

Gravity. Disorientation. Falling. A heavy weight slammed against your chest so hard, you wondered if your ribs cracked. The back of your head hit something firm. Everything went black for a while.

After who knows how long, your eyes opened again, staring straight up into the Devildom sky, the shifted stars more familiar to you. Your head was splitting with pain, your breath a wheeze as you glanced down to see Solomon’s limp body keeping you pinned against the ground.

“S-Solomon?” It took a short while for the panic to settle in. “Solomon!” After a moment of struggling, you managed to get him off of you, setting him on his back in the grassy plane you had been spat back out onto. His face looked drained. A chant left the base of your throat, using the last scrap of magic you had to give him a spell to reinvigorate his body. His eyes shot open, coughing as he rolled over onto his side, pushing himself up onto his arms before he fell down again. “Take it easy!” Together, using each other as support, you both got back up to your feet.

“I’m sorry…I had meant to deliver us right in front of the House of Lamentation, but…”

“You did alright,” you assured him, rubbing his back to keep his dizzy mind conscious. “A bit of a rough landing, but we’re alive…” But then, the better question was… “Are we—“

“There you are.” A calm voice manifested itself as a demon in front of you. Barbatos stepped out of a portal, his expression nearly as neutral as ever, except there was something in his eyes that was shining, a strange tremor to his hand that was completely unnatural for someone as him. Then he frowned as he took in the state of both of you, his nostrils flaring as he took the both of you with him, each with one gloved hand. You were pulled into a much less chaotic rift this time. Although the jolt was still enough to nearly cause both you and the sorcerer to fall back to your knees. Before that could happen though, you were shoved into a bed.

The guest rooms of the castle appeared the same as always, but something in particular felt nostalgic, like you’d just returned to a childhood home. Solomon appeared to be ushered into a bed right by your side, both your minds too rattled to resist, as the butler threw open the guest room door from the inside and summoned nearly every Little D in the entire building. “I need human medication, bandages, two sets of pajamas, the herbal tea I set aside in the kitchen. I need the oven preheated, the counter prepared, two trays set, and need them all done within the next two minutes.” There was a very subtle raise to his voice, the seriousness of his tone sending a chill down your spine and sending every Little D scattering for their lives. Barbatos spent one second observing them flee before he dissipated once more, getting wisked away through another portal of his own making.

This all felt…so surreal. Perhaps it was the pain that you were in that was making it feel like a dream. Like you’d wake up in Cocytus Hall and be right back at square one. And yet, something in you was missing that place… that house that you had just started to get used to. The furniture and things both you and Solomon had bought to make it your shared home. But your real home was here. Well, hopefully here.

You wouldn’t get your hopes up over anything yet. Not until you got to see them.

Barbatos returned before you could even begin to ask Solomon about any of this. A whirl of varying shades of green caused your vision to do somersaults as you were quickly fretted over. Salves and bandages were wrapped around your torso and a damp cloth gently touched the back of your head. That splitting pain resurfaced, joining forces with an added stinging. Maybe it was your body going into shock, but you could’ve sworn you heard a shaky shush coming from your current caretaker as you were cleaned and patched up quickly. Luckily, it wasn’t too much longer after that till the aches went mostly away, your head clearing up again as a set of your own pajamas were settled at the foot of the bed, a silver tray stretched over your lap and propped up on two stands. A small plate with a single pastry sat in front of you, along with a bitter smelling dark-green tea that you could tell you’d rather avoid imbibing.

Swiveling your head to the side, you saw Solomon leaning back against the headrest and a few pillows, a bit more vibrancy in his eyes, although those intense dark circles were hard to miss. He was okay. Thank…everything.

“Eat. Drink. Both of you.” The butler stood between the beds, realizing he’d spoken quite against his normal demeanor, he cleared his throat, his palm pressed between his collarbones. “Phoenix’s Breath Tea. You’ll both need it to recover. I apologize for making you both consume something so distasteful, but I’ve found it goes down a bit smoother paired with something sweet.”

A single whiff of the hot beverage in your hand was enough to make you cough, some sense burning in your nose. You settled the cup back down, taking a deep breath, trying to get your head on straight. “Barbatos… Are we…?”

The butler’s eyelids fluttered slowly. “You are,” he stated, his voice quiet, almost in awe. “You’re home. Back in the world you belong.”

A lump immediately formed in your throat, pushing the tray forward and turning to get out of bed. “I need to go. I need to see them, I—“ Before you could get one foot touching the ground, you were wrangled back into bed.

“I’ll fetch them. I swear you won’t have to wait too much longer. But you must drink the tea and you must take a moment to recover. If the others were to know the state you both were in right now, the castle would be torn—“

A banging sound ripped through the room like a gunshot. The guest room door was busted completely off it’s hinges, the wood of the frame splintering, the door soaring across to the left and fully embedding itself into the wall like a dart stuck in a board. If it weren’t for Barbatos’ inhuman skills, you’ve spilled the tea and dessert all over yourself. The royal attendant audibly sighed, sweeping himself to his feet and holding his arms out, his demon form manifesting, wrestling back a writhing and screaming black mass.

Your eyes went wide.

The mass stopped fighting, going rigid, stepping back to form seven different individuals. Three more non-hostile forms stood back in the wrecked doorway, two white, one red.

The bottom of your lip trembled as an overwhelming surge of joy and despair and relief and guilt all flooded out of you in tears. Your fears were pushed away. Your soul seemed to click back into place, like you’d been the last puzzle piece just waiting to finish the picture. “I’m home…”

Chaos erupted in the castle guest room. A few cracking wails nearly burst your eardrums. Asmo’s arms were the first to wrap around you, mascara running down his cheeks in large inky trails, but he didn’t seemed concerned in the least. Kisses lined your face with each sharp intake of breath, too shaken to even speak, he could only address you in his cries as he clutched onto you, trembling. His hand stroked your head, his breathing stopping for a moment when he saw the damage the landing had caused. This only caused him to whimper and cry harder, his thumb running over the outline of your features, running the back of his fingernails over your cheeks.

Levi was stuttering incomprehensibly. As he fell to his knees, he clutched at his head, going through an entire panic attack. He clawed at his chest, tearing gashes into the front of his clothes, looking up at you behind large welling tears as his tail wrapped around his entire torso. Mist filled the entire room as he continued to shake and cry so fervently he couldn’t even stand.

Luke was quite a ways away, holding onto Simeon’s clothing as he screeched out painful genuine child-like cries. The Angel curled over him, shushing him, getting to his own knees to hold the fledgling to his chest, assuring both the little angel and himself that you were okay. You were alright. Miracles had brought you together again. They didn’t have to worry any longer. The sleepless nights, the endless nightmares, the never-ending cold grip of sorrow could go away. He spoke this mantra- this prayer- over and over again, taking deep breaths between the words, blinking rapidly as he had to sway him and his charge back and forth to keep themselves both at ease. The older angel took the occasional glance over Luke’s shoulder, muttering a thankful blessing on repeat every-time he locked with your eyes.

Satan was thrashing around the room, screaming wildly, out of control, ready to beat Barbatos and Solomon for making you arrive in this condition, for not bringing you sooner, for not telling them sooner, for— Eventually, after getting thrown around the room a little, he ran out of things to be angry for. All it took was one look at your face to calm him down. He approached carefully, angry at himself, angry at whoever it was that took you away, but trying to keep himself together. Satan gingerly pulled Asmo off of you, turning Lust over to Solomon. Clearly, he’d been worried about his other pact-mate, hugging the sorcerer and crying a little more softly into his shoulder. Meanwhile, Satan reached a hand out hesitantly, like you were a feral cat he was trying to pet, worried you’d run away. His hand brushed through your hair and settled at the side of your face. Once he realized you weren’t going anywhere, his arms pulled you to him, pressing your face against his shoulder. “You’re here. You’re here again. You’re—“ His voice went hoarse, like he was losing it, like he’d been doing nothing but screaming for the entirely of your absence. Soon his words were nothing but faded squeaks, trying to portray his words but unable to. He simply held you instead. Then he tore himself away from you, heading over to the back wall and punching holes into the structure till his knuckles turned bloody.

Someone crawled onto the bed. Belphegor peered at you with an almost blank expression. His hand reached out, touching your knee, flinching as soon as he made contact, like the very act of him doing so would hurt you further. You could tell that maybe he felt like some of this was his fault, like he’d deserved the pain of having you be sent away from him, like if he did anything wrong again, you’d vanish for real this time, How many times could you come back from the dead? How close was he to losing you entirely? For good? As soon as his warmth mixed with yours, he collapsed on the mattress, curling up at your feet. He gathered the blanket towards his face, the end of his tail twitching erratically. His sobs were silent but violent, the entire bed shifting and bouncing as his body convulsed, his chest pounding as he broke down. Every once and a while, he would become extremely frightened, needing to gasp and look up to ensure you were real. You weren’t a dream. He pinched himself, shook his head, even almost bit at his hands to snap him out of this vision. But you were really here. He would curl back up and continue to cry.

White hair bobbed in front of your vision, two hands going to your shoulders and shaking you, pinning you against the headboard, fingernails careful not to dig themselves into your skin as they gripped your body. “What the hell is wrong with you?! Huh? Huh?! Do you have any idea what you put us through?! What you put me through?!” Mammon growls and screams shocked you.

“Mammon.” Lucifer’s voice settled as a stern warning, but something about it seemed weaker than usual.

Greed ignored him, continuing his rant. “You were just gone. Gone! You know that?!” He shook you again, careful not to rattle you too much. “And what am I supposed to do about that, huh?! What did I say?! I said—“ His voice cracked, trails of moisture streaming from his eyes and over his lips. “I said,” he repeated, “if you’re ever in trouble, you have to let me save you. What part of that didn’t you understand?! How dare you get taken somewhere where I can’t reach you?! How dare you?! How dare you?!” His voice continued to raise in pitch, sounding more and more unstable with each accusing question. Then he slumped, his forehead pressing against your chest as his hands held onto your shoulders tighter, almost bruising them, fearful of letting you go. He began shaking you a few times more, each shake meeker than the last. “How dare you. How dare you… How… W- What was I supposed to do if you didn’t come back?… The world is nothin’… I’m nothin’…”

Beel came over and helped his older brother to his feet, allowing him to sit on the side of your bed as Mammon furiously used the back of his wrist to rub at his cheeks. Gluttony stood over you, looking down with a wide close-lipped smile. “Welcome back.” He leaned down, pressing his cheek against yours as his large arms wrapped around the back of your neck. He took in the scent of you, burying his face into the crook of your neck for a moment. His body didn’t shutter, didn’t make noise, but you felt a few warm tears of his drip onto your skin. He silently and secretly teared up for just a few moments before he stood back up straight, gesturing to the tray with your items on it. “Eat, please. It’ll make you feel better.” The sixth-born took a few steps back to let you breathe, and as he moved back, someone else moved forward.

Lucifer stood at your bedside for quite some time in silence, looking down on you with a rather unreadable expression. He had a frown, eyes squinting like he was upset at you. He scanned you over, his brows furrowing, his jaw clenching. He refused to move, refused to say anything, refused to look you directly in the eyes. You moved forward a little, grabbing his hand, holding it in yours. All the sudden, the tension released. His eyes widened before his eyelids lowered, glancing at you past the vulnerable shimmer past his irises. Wrinkles of stress deepened in his forehead as his whole face contorted in agony. He held your hand tightly, bringing the back of it up to his lips. After that, he pulled you against him, his forehead pressed up against yours, his wings in his demon form acting as some sort of visual blocker, as if he couldn’t stand to have the rest of the room see how he was acting right now. He rubbed his face against yours back and forth, one small touch away from cooing, his hands caressing the sides of your neck, feeling your pulse, hearing your breath, taking in every detail and confirming to himself that you were indeed in his arms again, alive and mostly well. “You’ve come back to us,” he whispered, the end of his nose touching yours as one of his hands cradled the back of your neck. “Back to me.” His breath was hot as he panted for a moment, taking a deep breath and speaking in a hushed tone. “I had nearly begun to entertain the thought that…”

You pulled him closer to you, letting his head rest on your chest as you reached around to his back, grasping the cloth of his clothes in your hands. “You know I would fight through all the layers of hell to get to you.”

That seemed to resonate with him, but you weren’t quite sure he remembered that you were speaking quite literally. All those adventures…the things you’d all learned. How lost were they?…

However, Lucifer simply smiled, laughing a little, squeezing you before laughing again. “Yes, if anyone would do such a thing, it would be you. I shouldn’t have doubted you.” He straighted, fixed his clothing, lowered his wings, and moved further back into the room, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger as he paced towards a back corner.

Levi had finally soothed himself enough to move, walking on his knees towards the bed. His hands were fidgeting with every part of his outfit. Eyes puffy from crying, throat raw from his collapse earlier, he kept himself from speaking. You managed to smile down at him and wipe away the last few of his tears. His lips shook again before he lowered his head into your lap. Face-down in the fabric of the blanket, he kept shaking his head. He didn’t stop until your fingers ran through his hair. With a forced gulp, he eventually vocalized words. “I missed you… I was- was- was so scared I would…”

“Lose you.” Belphie sat up in bed, ignoring the fact that his face was now a mess. He scooted closer towards your side on the bed. “We thought we lost you.”

The youngest was able to say what none of the others could. Full silence washed over the room as the reality of the situation fully seemed to hit them, their shock slowly starting to fade.

Diavolo strode in, everyone moving out of the way to allow him to have his own time with you. The corners of his eyes crunched in happiness. His tight and broad shoulders sagged. Both of his large hands scooped up one of yours, bringing your touch to the side of his face. He closed his eyes, almost appearing as if he might purr any second. As he opened his sight back at you, a fire of positivity and excitement lit within him. “A party! We must throw a party! A welcome home celebration! This is…this is… a joyous day.”

At first, the others seemed confused. Then, one-by-one, small determined smiles spread across their faces. The sorrow melted and gave way to pure uncontrollable elation. People hugged each other, danced around the room, cheered, bounced, came back to kiss you, came back to hug you, nearly passing you around the room till Barbatos barged back in and took your hand, bringing you back to bed.

For a while, you assumed he would shut the idea down entirely. But then, the butler grinned. “I figured you would all say as much. Some preparations are already being made. In the meantime, we should let these two rest. They’ve had all too much excitement today.” Barbatos pulled the blanket back over your legs, readjusting the tray and giving you a biting glare that told you you wouldn’t be able to get out of drinking that god-forsaken tea. “But after that, we will celebrate. We will take every day and night to cherish you, and make up for the time we lost.”

Most of the brothers tried clinging to you, demanding they get to stay, but Diavolo, Barbatos, Lucifer, and Simeon managed to corral the desperate demons and one small angel out of the room.

But before they all left, you shouted. “Wait!” They all turned, worried that something was wrong. However, you smiled, happy tears running down your face this time. “I love you all. So very much.”

“I cherish you with every fibre of my being.”

“There ain’t nothing more priceless than you.”

“E-Everything is so much more fun with you here with m-m- us…”

“I…don’t want to even try to imagine a world without you in it.”

“Nothing, and I mean nothing, hun, is as charming as you.”

“Our family isn’t complete without you in it.”

“You belong with us. End of story.”

“You are one of the most precious beings the three realms has ever known.”

“I find myself discovering new things to enjoy every moment I spend with you.”

“Listen, you are a shining beacon in the night. Know how special you are.”

“You teach me so much! If it weren’t for you, I might still be scare— I mean, dislike demons!”

“My dear apprentice… We couldn’t have gotten home without you. You deserve the world. I will stick by you no matter where you go. And you deserve to know—“

“How much we love you too.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me luke #obey me nightbringer #nightbringer spoilers

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thewidowsledger · 1 day

Text

Bearer Of The Seed

Pairings: Targaryen!Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: +18, HOUSE OF THE DRAGON AU, AMAB!Natasha, Targayen!Natasha, smut, angst (sex just for the obligation of making heirs), forced marriage (political arrangement to save reader's family), Natasha plots to make reader pregnant while reader plots to deceive Natasha lol, lots of chasing, top!Natasha, bottom!reader, dubious consent, breeding kink, rough sex, bleeding (reader is a virgin), creampie, fingering (r receiving), overstimulation & squirting (r receiving)

Author’s Note: Tiger cub!!!! 🐅 Thank you so much for your request and I hope I wrote your request the way you imagined it to be. Yey, my first fic request done! There are more, hihi <3 ps. I am not actually back yet, I just wanted to post this ksksskskss

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⧗

“Rest and heal, my sweet. And I will make sure to make up for the night we missed,” she said in a soft and gentle tone, only for you to hear as you continued to lie there, your eyes closed in what appeared to be a deep and restful sleep.

“I’ll have you full of my seed in no time.”

She caressed your face for the last time gently before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

⧗

“Father, smith, warrior. Mother, maiden, crone, stranger…”

The words felt like acid on your tongue. Each one stinging you as they leave your lips. You loathed having to say them. You loathed having to agree. This wasn't some love match. It was the voice of a prisoner accepting their fate.

You force yourself to keep your eyes on Natasha, refusing to blink despite the tears forming. You will not cry. Not in her presence. You will not give her that satisfaction. So you try your best to stand tall, to be defiant. Though it's hard when you feel so completely defeated as you said the final words that will seal you both forever.

“I am yours...and you are mine. From this day...until the end of my days.”

The last word was hardly out of your mouth when Natasha took a step forward and captured your lips with hers. Natasha’s grip on your hips tightens as she pulls you firmly against her. Her lips are rough and insistent as they move against yours. You can feel the tension and desire coursing through her as she claims your mouth in a possessive, greedy kiss.

With what seems like great effort, Natasha breaks the kiss. She takes a step back and you notice a sly smirk slowly appear on his face as she watches you try to catch your breath and you so badly wanted to wipe that on her face. Clearly, she was enjoying the effect she had on you, but you will not make this easy for her.

You will make sure to play this game on your hands, not hers.

⧗

“Heirs…”

Hearing your now family bring up the subject of heirs, made you feel a lump form in your throat. It was something you'd tried to avoid thinking about, but you knew it was a reality you would have to face.

Natasha didn't even flinch. She seems confident and unbothered, like she has no concerns in that regard. She responds without missing a beat.

“Oh, we’ll have heirs. Plenty of them, in fact.”

Natasha's grip on your hands tightens slightly, you force a tight-lipped smile on your face as you struggle to appear calm.

“I will make sure that our marriage bed will not lack heat. We’ll have as many children as the gods see fit to bless us with.” She added with such confidence.

You knew that the celebration was coming to an end and you were starting to feel overwhelmed by the noise and the crowd—by her. The air felt hot and stifling. Without saying a word, you excused yourself but as you stood Natasha didn't let go of your hand. So you eyed her intently authoritatively and she immediately released your hand, you didn't miss the flicker of hesitation and fear in her eyes. Her usual confident and authoritative demeanor seemed to be gone for a moment, revealing just the slightest crack in her armor.

As you walked, a small smirk tugged your lips, it gave you a sense of satisfaction, knowing that you had the power to affect her in that way. For a brief moment, you felt like you were in control, that you had some bargaining power in this situation.

Of course you do, you will play this game right on your palm, right?

You stepped into the cool night air of the corridors outside, you tried not to let your emotions get the best of you as you thought about the fact that your family had been saved, you realized just how high the cost was. Natasha had saved you from ruin, but the price was steep. You were now the payment, a pawn in a larger game of power and politics. Knowing that you were traded like a piece of livestock in exchange for your family’s safety, it was a bitter pill to swallow.

One of the foremost was the fact that you will need to carry the child of someone you didn't really know. Natasha Romanoff was a complex and dangerous woman, unpredictable, impulsive and arrogant—those are the only things you know about her. So the thought of being connected to her through a child was unsettling, to say the least. Yet you knew, as soon as the words of the scripted vows you loathed to say forcefully fell from your lips, there was no turning back.

It is inevitable or perhaps it can be avoided?

You were lost in your own thoughts, worrying about your future, when the maid servant's voice broke your train of thought.

“The celebration is over, your Grace. The King will be expecting you in her chambers.”

Her words and the instructions were simple, but they sent a shiver of unease through you. But you wanted to test the waters, you wanted to test who among you holds such power to the both of you.

“Let her know that I am denying her request,” you replied coldly as the night breeze.

“But your Gra—”

“Tell her that.” you cut her off with a finality, “I’ll be at my chambers, I’ll retire early for tonight.” You added, hinting that if she wished to prove the power she has on you, she will come and show you.

The night slipped away and you opted for the secret chambers that only and your maester, Wanda knew. Inside, you hoped to find solitude and respite from the pressures and chaos of the day.

You stayed in the dimly lit room, the only light provided by a few flickering candles, as the night went on. You didn’t know whether or not Natasha had come to your original chambers, expecting to find you there.

But you will make sure not surrender yourself, not without a fight.

⧗

Natasha was growing increasingly frustrated as she recounted different excuses from the maid servants every time she inquired about you. She hadn't seen you since the night of your wedding, and the more time passed the more suspicious she became.

Another maid servant entered her headquarters and she is for sure to deliver another excuse from you.

“The Queen is not feeling well, you Grace.”

The maid servant stood before the King, her hands clasped in front of her nervously as she delivered her message.

“What happened? What does the maester say the issue is?” The suspicion that she had in mind is now gone and is replaced by a deep concern for you.

“Well, you Gr—”

“I will go and check on my wife.”

“I fear the Queen doesn’t want anyone in her chambe—”

“I’m not anyone, I am her King. I am her wife.”

Without another word of excuse, she rose from her seat and stalked out of the room. The King wasted no time making her way through the halls of the Keep, her steps were loud as she walked towards your chambers.

The moment Natasha stepped into the chambers, her eyes immediately fell upon your pale form lying in the bed. She was by your side in an instant, her hand reaching out to touch your forehead—and she could feel the heat radiating from you.

“Gods, you’re burning up,” she muttered, as she took in your sickly appearance.

Natasha's eyes darted to the maester as she confirmed that you would be fine in time, and that you had been examined already.

“And what is the cause of her sickness?” she questioned, her gaze returning to you.

Wanda cleared her throat, as she darted her eyes on your sleeping form. She breathed, shutting her eyes before she explained the cause of your illness.

“It appears the Queen has fallen ill due to stress and exhaustion,” she said with a shaky voice, as she watched Natasha softly caress your body. “And it would be best for her to be left alone for a few days, allowing her body to rest and recover,” she added, finally eyeing the King.

“Days?” Natasha repeated as if she didn't hear it clearly.

“Yes…”

Natasha let out a heavy sigh, her mind conflicted. On one hand, she wanted to keep you in her sight and she wanted you to be okay now so she could spend the nights with you fulfilling the obligations of making a long line of heirs. On the other, she knew the maester was likely right about your need for solitude and rest.

“I’ll have you full of my seed in no time.”

She caressed your face for the last time gently before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

As she withdrew, she turned to the Wanda who was standing just outside the doorway of your chamber. “Do everything you can to ensure that she is well soon,” she instructed.

“Yes, your Grace.”

As soon as Natasha left your chambers, you slowly and stealthily got up from the bed where you had been feigning sleep. Your body trembled slightly as you inhaled deep breaths, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You were grateful that your plan had worked, and that Natasha had believed your act of being sick.

Wanda, your trusted maester and ally in your plan, looked at you with a sigh as you got up from the bed.

“I told you hot water and a cloth would do the trick,” she said, referring to the method she suggested to fake your elevated temperature.

“I’ll have you full of my seed in no time.”

“My Grace, are you alright? Are you really sick now? You look pale.”

You snapped back to the present, your mind still replaying Natasha's words from earlier when she spoke to you while you were pretending to be in a deep slumber.

“I’m fine,” you assured Wanda, your voice a little shaky. “Just a bit…tired, that’s all.”

Tired of all this.

“Well, I shall leave you alone then, my Grace.”

Wanda has been the first person you became close with, and she has been nothing but supportive to cover up for you and your plans. You even heard her lie for you just a while ago and that was not even a part of your plan. But when the King asked about your condition—your fake condition, she still did with no hesitation.

“Thank you, Wanda.”

⧗

It had been several days since Natasha’s visit, and you had successfully managed to avoid her so far due to your pretense of being sick. Now, you were stepping out into the gardens, seeking a change of scenery and some fresh air.

The gardens were a lovely sight, the sun shining brightly and the flowers in full bloom. You strolled along the pathways, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere.

As you were walking in the garden, relishing the tranquil surroundings, your eyes caught a glimpse of something or rather, someone—in the distance. It was Natasha, standing next to Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm.

Her gaze was fixated on you and you could tell that she was surprised to see you out and about, considering the fact that you were supposed to be unwell. And now, she is making her way over to you.

Your instincts kicked in immediately, and your first thought was to run. Without hesitation, you darted through the gardens, your heart racing as you navigated the twisting and turning paths of the maze.

As you ran, adrenaline pumped through your veins, and you quickened your pace, determined to elude her as long as possible.

You were dressed in a gown made of flowing silk, the fabric soft and lightweight against your skin. The hem of the dress brushed against the grass as you ran, occasionally catching on the leaves of the maze bushes.

You sprinted through the maze, dodging and weaving between the high walls of greenery. As you continued running through the maze, your heart rate spiked ever higher when you caught a glimpse of Natasha through the gaps in the leaves.

Seeing her so close, so determined to find you, sent another jolt of adrenaline through your body, the fight-or-flight response kicking into high gear.

Although you were aware that she would eventually catch you, you refused to let her have an easy victory. You steeled yourself, determined to play this game in your own hands.

The twists and turns of the maze became your playground. Every time you thought she was closing in, you would change direction, taking unexpected forks that would put some distance between you again.

As you sprinted through the maze, looking back in the direction you last saw Natasha, a sudden body slammed in front of you. The force knocked you off balance, catching you off guard.

A pair of hands locked around your arms, effectively trapping you, preventing any further escape.

“Are you running away from me?”

As you met Natasha’s intense gaze, your heart raced and your words came out in a slight stutter. “Y-your Grace…” you started to say, but your mind was too preoccupied with the situation to form a coherent response.

You gulped as you looked away, and then replied with a shaky voice. “No, your Grace,” you said, your eyes still fixed on the soil where you were standing. Despite your denial, there was undeniable fear in your voice.

“I was expecting that you’re still in your chambers, resting. Wanda told me you’re still sick.”

“I wanted to go out, g-get some fresh air…”

“You should’ve come to me so I will go out with you.”

“I…” you hesitated for a moment, wanting to be careful on how you’re going to say the next words, “I wanted to have some time alone, y-your Grace.”

Her grip on your arms relaxed slightly as she heard your response. “I haven't had a night alone with you since our wedding, Y/N,” she said, she sounded a bit disappointed that made you hitch your breath.

“Look at me.” She commanded, leaving no room for disobedience. And you slowly did, as your gazes met, her eyes softened with a little fire of an intense desire, and her proximity to you made your heart race even faster.

In a swift and dominating move, Natasha closed the remaining distance between you and claimed your lips in a searing kiss. Natasha sensed your attempts to resist so she deepened the kiss, her tongue demanding entry, as her hands on your arms pulled you even closer to her.

Your resistance was a futile battle and you finally surrendered to her but you fought not to moan as her tongue explored the cavern of your mouth, leaving you breathless and vulnerable. As Natasha moved her attention towards your neck, her lips and tongue trailing along the sensitive skin, you tilted your head back, submitting to her control.

Her lips left your neck as she leaned towards your ear, her words a low, seductive whisper.

“I shall be expecting to see you in my chambers tonight.”

⧗

The evening had arrived, and Natasha made her way to her chamber, fully expecting to find you there—in her bed in all your glory. However, as she entered the room, her eyes scanned the space, but you were nowhere to be seen. Her initial confusion quickly turned into seething anger as she realized you didn’t follow her command.

She wasted no time and stormed through the corridors, her patience wearing thin. It has been far too long, and she is determined to have you, one way or another. Her strides were purposeful and filled with seething anger, her mind set on one mission.

To find you and bring you to her bed.

As soon as she stepped into your chambers, her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light. She approached the figure lying in the bed, she leaned closer to get a better look of you, and when she dipped her knee to the soft bed, the figure suddenly moved, emitting a piercing scream. Startled, Natasha let out a gasp, quickly realizing it wasn’t you but your maid servant.

“Y-your Grace!” The maid servant rushed out apologetically as she immediately threw the thick covers out her body and stood.

“Where is Y/N? Why are you in the Queen’s bed?!” Natasha demanded.

“Queen Y/N noticed I-I wasn’t feeling well and…well, I am fine but-but the Queen insisted that I am not fine,” the maid servant’s hands flew in different direction as she tried to explain herself, “and she told me…she insisted that I should rest, right here, in her bed. And she left.” The maid servant scrambled, the words coming out in a rush from her lips not wanting to receive the seething anger of the King.

“Forgive me, your Grace…please.”

The maid servant's continuous apologies grew quieter as Natasha's attention shifted. Her gaze moved towards the window, where she spotted a figure dashing towards the garden maze. She instantly recognized it was you, and a sly smile tugged at her lips. Ignoring the maid servant, Natasha stepped towards the window of your chambers.

Once again, you found yourself racing through the labyrinthine maze, your breath coming in short gasps as you desperately sought an escape. The twists and turns of the paths seemed to taunt you, creating a confusing web to ensnare you. Fear and adrenaline coursed through your veins, your mind focused on one goal and that is to survive the night without having to spend it on the King’s bed.

Natasha’s voice echoed through the night, “Making a maid servant sleep in your own bed, just to fool me?”

Despite the gasp that escaped your lips at the sound of Natasha's seething voice, you refused to let it slow you down. Your legs propelled you forward, your bare feet pounding against the cool grass as you continued your race through the maze. There was no time for looking back, only the need to elude her pursuit.

“You were never ill, Y/N!”

As you ran through the maze, the tears of fear started to well up in your eyes, causing you to shut them tightly shut. The emotions coursing through you were overwhelming—fear, defiance, and the weight of the situation hitting you all at once. Yet, amidst it all, a small part of you stubbornly held onto the hope that you could somehow escape Natasha.

Just as you rounded a corner in the maze, a strong body suddenly locked onto you, arms encircling you like a vise grip. Caught off guard, you let out a gasp in surprise, struggling against the strong hold. The realization that Natasha had finally caught you struck you like a bolt of lightning.

“I knew you heard me that time…I never lied when I said I will make sure you’re full of my seed.”

In a swift and effortless motion, Natasha scooped you up and threw you in her shoulders, her strong grip on your thighs unyielding as she carried you to her chambers. You tried to resist, squirming and fighting against her, but her strength was undeniable. Despite your attempts to break free, it was clear that you had no chance of escape.

The game is no longer in your hands. It never was.

The guards stationed nearby stood at their positions, their eyes averted from the scene. They could only watch as Natasha carried you flailing in her arms, your screams piercing the air. Fear for their own lives kept them in place, knowing full well that they could have their heads off if they bothered to look in your direction.

“Lock the doors!” she barked, her tone leaving no room for questions. The guards obeyed, swiftly securing the chamber doors, sealing you and Natasha inside. Without a moment of hesitation, she hurled you onto her bed, the force of her throw causing you to bounce slightly upon the plush mattress.

“Strip,” she commanded in a low voice that made you shiver in fear, “Remove every piece of clothing you wear. I want to see my wife before me in all her naked glory. Do not forget to remove any trinkets or tokens you may be wearing.”

Your hands were shaking when you let your dress slip to the floor, revealing your vulnerable form, your body betrays you with gooseflesh. Tears well up in your eyes, spilling over and cascading down your cheeks.

Natasha watched, sitting at the bed as you stripped the last piece of clothing out of your body.

Her cold, green orbs leisurely take in every inch of your bare flesh. They linger on the fullness of your breasts, the pebbled peaks begging for her touch. Her gaze trails down to the small, dark mole at the side of your breast, a unique birthmark that she commits to memory.

Her eyes continue their languid descent, taking in the slight roundness of your belly soon to be full of her seed, the flare of your hips, and the soft curls at the juncture of your thighs. She studies the glistening evidence of your fear and humiliation, the pink folds of your pussy already swollen and slick.

The shame of your nakedness burns through you like a physical touch, amplified by the fact that Natasha remains fully clothed. Her silken robes and velvet cloak seem to mock your naked form, the heavy golden brooch at her shoulder a stark reminder of the game is now holding place in her hands.

A cruel smile plays on Natasha’s lips as she sees the shame and fear in your eyes. She rises once more, her tall form towering over you. Her hands go to the sash at her waist, undoing it with deliberate slowness.

The silk slithers to the floor, pooling around her feet. She begins to slowly unlace her leather breeches, her gaze locked with yours. As the garment falls away, revealing her hardened cock, you can't help but gulp, your eyes wide with trepidation.

She stepped closer to you, caressing your cheek. You didn't know why but you leaned in to her touch as she wiped the tears off your face. She looked at your glossy eyes before she leaned forward, her lips pressing against yours in a soft, yet commanding kiss. Your lips part instinctively, allowing her to sweep her tongue inside, claiming your mouth as hers.

“Open wider,” she demands, breaking the kiss to gaze down at you. She tilts your head back further, forcing your mouth open wider. She kisses you again, this time her tongue probing deeper, exploring the warmth of your mouth. She sucks on your bottom lip, pulling it between her teeth and biting down gently.

Your breath hitches, a soft whimper escaping your throat as her kiss becomes more intense. Her hands tangled in your hair and you can't help but moan softly, the sound muffled against her lips.

Natasha broke the kiss and sees the raw innocence in your eyes, the moisture making them glisten like jewels. Your lips are swollen and parted, a thin string of saliva stretching between them, quivering as you suck in ragged breaths. Her gaze darkens with lust and satisfaction.

“My bed has been lacking...heat,” she murmurs, her voice low and gravelly. She reaches out, wiping the saliva from your chin with her thumb. “And you, my sweet, are going to warm it tonight.”

You took a step backwards and tilt your head to the side to avoid her touch.

“You make it difficult,” she says, her voice tight with frustration, “to fulfill the one duty that should be simple. I have conquered cities, bent knees to mine, tamed dragons...And yet, you make it hard for me to plant my seed in your womb.”

“Am I just a bearer of your offspring?” You pinched your brows together, finally eyeing the King as the tears cascaded down your face.

“Yes,” she replied bluntly, undressing herself, “in this, you are.” As her clothing falls away, revealing her breasts and her tanned, muscular body, she meets your gaze squarely. “But know this, my sweet, you are not just any bearer.”

“You are my Queen—my own wife who dared to deceive and defy me,” she says as she steps forward, her eyes roaming over your body hungrily. “And when I have won, when you carry my child, you will be the mother of my heir.”

“And perhaps,” she says, her voice dropping to a near whisper as she leans over you, “when this is done, when my line is secured, you will be something more.” Her gaze holds yours captive. “But for tonight, you are simply the woman I must breed.”

Your heart shatters in your chest as she speaks those words. The cold, hard truth of her intent cuts deep, each word a knife twisting in your soul. You are not her beloved, her equal, but a tool, a vessel to bear her child and you knew it from the beginning.

Without you carrying her offspring, you are nothing.

Natasha then grabs you roughly, flipping you around and throwing you onto the bed. She climbs over you, positioning herself behind your ass.

With a sudden, brutal motion, she thrusts herself inside you, ignoring your cries of pain as she tears through your resisting body. She groans in satisfaction, her hands gripping your hips as she begins to rut into you with merciless force, her dragon's strength overpowering any objections you might have.

“You are mine now,” she growls, her breath hot against your ear. “No more defiance, no more resistance. You will bear my child, as is your purpose.” Each word is punctuated by a hard thrust, her hips slamming against your ass cheek with brutal intensity.

She pulls out of you suddenly, her thick cock glistening with your virgin blood. Natasha flips you over, pushing your hips in the bed. Her body pressed heavily against yours as she positioned herself between your legs. Without warning, she slams back into you, her dragon-sized cock splitting you open.

You're screaming now, your voice echoing off the walls as she fucks you with brutal, animalistic intensity.

She moves to silence your screams and releases your mouth long enough to trail her lips down your body, pausing to suckle at each breast roughly, her teeth scraping against your sensitive nipples.

“You are so tight around me, Y/N,” she groans, her voice low and possessive. “Your body was made just for my pleasure. Your virgin hole is so snug, clasping around me like a glove. You were made to be filled by me, to bear my children.”

Her hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, allowing her to bury herself deeper. As she grinds her hips against yours, she leaned down and your hands immediately claw at her back, your fingernails digging into her skin.

Her muscled back flexes under your desperate, clawing hands. You feel each ridge of muscle, the hard strength of her. Despite the pain she's causing, despite the brutal taking, your body responds to her, your core clenching around her cock as you feel her powerful body move against yours.

“Y-your…Grace…” you called out for her, mouth open as she tore you apart. You held her neck and the silver locks of her hair, your legs crossed at her waist.

“You’re my Queen.” She growled in your ear.

“Yes, your Grace!” You cried out in pain and pleasure.

“Then you will take what I give you, you will be painted with my seed and soon enough you’ll bear my heir.”

Her words made your pussy clench even tighter around her massive cock. She feels it, her thrusts becoming even more powerful as she drives her seed deep into your womb.

She straightens up, her hands gripping your hips as she slams into you one final time. Her body stiffens, her head thrown back in a silent roar as she finds her release. She grinds her hips against yours, ensuring every drop is deep inside you.

Natasha pulls out of you slowly, her eyes locked onto your well-stretched opening. She watches as her seed begins to leak out mixing with your virgin blood, a possessive growl rumbling in her chest. Without hesitation, she pushes the escaping seed back inside with her slender fingers.

“My seed stays inside you,” she continues to push her fingers inside you, scooping up her own seed and forcing it back into your walls, making sure it's as deep inside you as possible. She repeats this process several times, her fingers pumping in and out of you as she ensures her claim is secure.

The sensation of her fingers pushing into you, combined with the gentle throbbing from her earlier pumps, becomes too much to bear. You can feel yourself growing more and more sensitive, the line between pleasure and pain blurring. You moan, your voice barely a whisper.

“Your Grace...it's too much…”

She ignores your plea, her voice dark as she murmurs, “It’s Natasha for you, my sweet.” Her fingers continue to push into your overstimulated hole, the motion causing you to convulse around her.

“Natasha…” you stammer, her name tumbling from your lips like a prayer as the intense sensation consumes you. Her name on your lips, filled with such raw emotion, makes her own stomach flutter.

You convulse violently, your body shaking uncontrollably as a gush of liquid spurts out from between your thighs. Natasha muffles her approval against your neck, her voice thick with satisfaction as she feels the evidence of your spend.

“Say it again,” she demands, her fingers continuing to pump into you as the aftershocks wrack your body. “Say my name like that again, Y/N.” Her own control is slipping, your words affecting Natasha more than she’d like to admit. You whimper, your voice hoarse.

"N-Natasha...Natasha...only...only you…” Each word is punctuated by a sharp breath as your body continues to spasm around her fingers. She lets out a low groan, her head dropping to your shoulder as she listens to you beg for her alone.

“You’re so good for me,” she praises, her voice rough with desire. She withdraws her fingers from your dripping pussy, bringing them to her mouth to clean them with a hungry suckle. Her eyes never leaving yours as she does so, drinking in the sight of her Queen overcome with pleasure.

“From now on, you will sleep in this same bed as mine so I can ensure that you remain well-bred every night.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff au #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow x reader

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thevoidstaredback · 4 months

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Damian lost. Damian has never lost before. He never loses! Losing means you're weak, and Damian is not weak. He grew up fast and strong and is only ever getting stronger!

But he couldn't kill her.

Damian had been raised to think that love of any kind was a weakness. Grandfather did not love mother because he is not weak. Mother loved father and that made her weak. Damian could not love Danyal because that would make him weak. Grandfather expected great things from him. He could not afford to be weak.

Before they were set to leave Nanda Parbat to live and train with their father, Damian and Danyal had one final lesson with Grandfather. A fight, two versus one, on the edge of the Lazarus Pits.

Danyal did not survive. He did not resurface from the depths of the green water.

Grandfather called him weak. Mother said nothing. Damian was given no time to mourn before he was handed to his father with strict orders not to tell him about Danyal.

For all Grandfather and mother had done to him, Damian could not bring himself to kill either of them. His father had taught him to love, that it was a strength.

Damian loved his mother. He realized this as he stared into her eyes, his katana at her throat, his boot pinning her down. He could not kill her.

"You are foolish, habibi." she scolded, kneeing his back and sending him rolling forwards off of her and to the edge of the Pits. "You have discarded all I taught you."

"I have only added to those lessons," he faced her, "I remember everything you have taught me."

"You lie like your father. Obviously and bluntly."

"I have never lied to you."

"Then you have forgone my lessons!"

"Because you abandoned me!"

"I sent you away to learn. I came back for you. You abandoned me."

"A mother's role to teach her child just as the father's role is to protect." Damian leveled his weapon at her again. "You left me in the care of everyone but yourself, Talia Al Ghoul. You were only ever our mother in title, not name."

Talia lunged forward, meeting Damian's sword with her own. "You know not of what you speak, foolish child!"

"I know plenty!" He pushed back, forcing her back several feet. He followed if only to get away from the edge of the Pits. "No thanks to you."

"I gave you everything, Damian."

"No. You took everything from me. You held it all as a reward out of my reach."

"You wouldn't be where you are today if it wasn't for me and your Grandfather." she stated as though it were an undeniable truth, "Whether you acknowledge it or not, we raised you."

"I raised myself."

"We taught you everything you know."

"I taught myself!"

"We made you perfect!"

"You killed half of me!"

The silence overwhelmed the fighting in the tunnels, the shouting and running and bubbling of the Pits were all drowned out. Talia's sword lowered shakily. Damian's remained raised and steady.

"You allowed Grandfather to take Danyal from me. You forced me to forget him. You killed half of me."

"Habibi-"

"No!" He was shaking now. "He was my better half, just as I was his. And you took him from me."

"Damian-"

"You took my brother from me!" He charged madly at her, rage and grief overtaking him. "I will never forgive you for that!"

Talia matched him blow for blow. "Love is weakness, habibi. That is why he died. Danyal loved you and he paid his price for it."

With a scream, Damian doubled his efforts. His blows grew weak with rage as his mother pushed him back.

Damian knew he could not kill her. Some part of him still yearned for her approval. Some part of him still loved her.

Talia's sword impaled itself into the area below his sternum, piercing the armor and skin and muscle, stabbing through to the other side, the hilt stopping it from moving ant further.

Suddenly, the silence flooded over the cavern again. A shrill ringing filled Damian's ears as his grip weakened. His katana fell from his grasp, clattering to the floor so loudly, but so, so quietly. Blood spilled from Damian's mouth with a cough.

Talia drew her sword back, throwing it behind herself as she caught her son. Love is a weakness, but that had not stopped her before. Why hadn't it stopped her now?

"Damian? Habibi?" She cradled his body on her lap, her hand turning his face to her. "My darling?"

Damian's eyes were vacant, staring into a distance unseen. He heard nothing, felt nothing. He knows what was coming next. Sleep. Release. Soon, he'd be in his brother's arms again, just like when they were children. They'd have so long to catch up with each other.

Damian closed his eyes with a soft sigh.

Storyboard Part 2

#damian doesn't survive #i pulled this out of my ass #i need to sleep #but i had to get this out of my head #all of my knowledge is from fanfics and other fanon #dp x dc #dcxdp #damian wayne #talia al ghul #part 1/2 #reunion of brothers #only because theres a lot that needs to happen but this is a good place to end #this won't be a huge thing though #sorry not sorry

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love-byers · 1 month

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DM-GATE (a st/byler theory)

if you saw this last night, strap in. because this post is about that

so me and @reo-bylerwagon were talking about how weird mike's dialogue is in s4, specifically in his monologue. it's so....corny. his monologue just doesn't sound like stranger things. mike just doesn't talk like that ever. characters who are overly dramatic and corny are made fun of by other characters. the show just doesn't train you to accept something as corny as mike's monologue, especially from MIKE. mike just isn't that kind of character.

we also pointed this dramatic dialogue between mike and will in the van. will's monologue to mike is very sweet but the dialogue is kind of corny too. will compares mike to a knight in shining armor, leading and inspiring as the heart of the party.

and i, in a moment of completely oblivious genius, said "honestly in the monologue he uses the same voice he does when he's dm"

if you don't know what dm is, it means dungeon master. the dungeon master is the one in dnd who leads the adventure, the organizer.

this is the role mike has in season 1 when they're playing dnd. will is also dm in s3 when they briefly play, right before the byler rain fight. eddie is the only other character we see be dm.

dms have to be eccentric, they have to act. they have to be convincing. they have to lead and guide.

in the painting will gives mike, the party are depicted as their dnd characters. so no one can even say this isn't connected to dnd.

"See how you're leading us? You're guiding the whole party, inspiring us. That's what you do.

See your coat of arms here? It's a heart. I know it's sort of on the nose, but that's what holds this whole party together. Heart. Because, I mean, without heart, we'd all fall apart."

in the monologue when will calls back to their conversation in the van, this is symbolic of mike reverting back to his role as dungeon master, as leader. if mike has to lie in the monologue, of course he would pull from a role he's played where he makes things up and sounds convincing.

@reo-bylerwagon gave the best line ever, "he's being the mike in the painting"

and the craziest part is that's CANON. mike is inspired by what will says, he takes it to heart. he feels more confident. he tries to be the mike in the painting. it should be easy, to speak from his heart to el, but it's not, because he's not in love with her. in the monologue, mike is doing the same thing he does when he's dm. he's performing. he's trying to be convincing. he's trying to guide, to inspire.

also, @reo-bylerwagon said that will pushing mike to giving the monologue is giving "MIKE YOUR ACTION!!" WHICH IS SO FUCKING TRUE😭😭

after this realization i went back and watched the scenes where mike is dming. the VERY FIRST LINE OF DIALOGUE we hear in the show is mike dming. "Something is coming, something hungry for blood." and the second line?

i could never put a finger on why mikes language in the monologue seemed so weird. it's because he's talking like a dm. he's using the dramatic language dms use during a dnd session.

@reo-bylerwagon also pointed out that mike and will are piggybacking off of dnd to save el. everyone in the final fight was piggybacking.

will set the stage, mike executed.

also, i mentioned the only other character see be dm besides mike and will is eddie.

and what is eddie's big moment in s4?

Master of Puppets.

MASTER. OF PUPPETS. DUNGEON MASTER. DUDE.

and another thing

we've all seen this, but it's not only that mike and will's characters are on the book.

it's a dungeon masters guide.

with mike and will's characters on it.

mike and will. the only party members we've seen be dungeon masters.

COME THE FUCK ON.

AND ANOTHER THING

"Dude, that's the donation box."

"I know, I'll just use yours when I come back. I mean...if we still wanna play."

"Well yeah but...what if you want to join another party?"

"Not possible."

this is a dm i got like 2 years ago that changed my brain chemistry:

this is NOT a reach. everything in st is compared to dnd. the duffers are massive dnd nerds. it is not unbelievable that they'd connect this to dnd as well.

#stranger things #byler #will byers #mike wheeler #byler endgame #byler analysis #mike wheeler i know what you are #stranger things 4 #milkvan is bones #st theory #byler theory #stranger things theory #dmgate

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lady-ashfade · 8 months

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Teddy Bear

Day three of celebration marathon

Yandere! Platonic!Luke Castellan Vs Yandere!Brother!Percy Jackson x fem!reader

-£ ask: yandere Luke with Percy's twin sister who has always been protected and shielded by Percy with her naive innocence and when he saw her Luke was obsessed but gets furious how it's hard to get to her

-£ words: 800

-£ warnings: yandere behavior, short fic, reader being innocent and naive.

It was hard to believe how hard it was to get near you without your brother pulling you away or turning your attention on something else. At first when you both were placed in Hermes cabin you stayed by your brother and listened to his every word as you usually do. He was your protector ever since he was born. Even at young age he was sticking up for you.

You had just lost your mom and now thrown into a world you knew nothing about and the only thing you knew was him. So of course you did as he said, he never was wrong before. When anyone tried to talk to you, he pushed them away and gave you something from his pocket to get your attention on like a dog.

Luke saw you and he was obsessed at how innocent you seemed to be. How did you survive this far without any instincts of your own? He could do so much better then Percy at being your big brother. He could actually protect you and give you anything you ever asked for.

All he had to do was get close to you.

But that was harder then it looked. While he tried got close to you two, your brother didn’t let him close to you. So Luke had a to work around it. He took note of how Percy talked, acting towards you to draw you in.

“I found this,” luke looked at Percy with a rock in his hand, “thought y/n would like it.” percy glared at the taller boy. why was he even talking about you? But before percy would shut him down you squealed and jumped up, taking the rock from him. You looked so happy that the two boys didn’t care about anything else.

“Oh, thank you!” then you did something that caused both of them to freeze. you wrapped your arms around luke and squeezed him tightly while giggling. “I’m going to put it with the others.” You shout and run off towards your shared cabin.

percy looked at luke as he stayed there with his body tensed. “What was that?” even now, percy was trying to keep you to himself. but if he played his cards right…

“You’re a good brother percy. You give her things all the time, I thought I’d do the same.” He then threw his arm around the smaller boy and started to walk. “Now, I think we should start with swords today.” and like that he pretended to forget about the whole thing like it meant nothing.

but to Luke it was everything. the way you hugged him felt like the world was lifted off his shoulders. he made you smile. he made you happy. that was just a sign that he was made to be your family.

day and night luke was looking for new ways to get close to you even with percy holding you so close. he’d spend every moment with percy knowing you were right there. he tried to help you with your armor straps but percy did it before he could, making Luke annoyed. How is it that every chance he had percy was so quick? honestly percy was selfish for keeping you all to himself.

it only got worse when the both of you were claimed and you had to leave hermes cabin. you packed your things with a smile on your face looking as sweet as you always did. it was petty really, but luke couldn’t stop himself now. he walked up with a small teddy bear in his arms while Percy was looking away for a second.

“You know, I’ll be missing you both.” That was lie he didn’t even care if Percy was leaving now. You looked at him, “keep this to remember me?” His sweet smile as he handed you the teddy was making you feel warm. you loved the fluffy animal he gave you.

Before you go hug him Percy was at your side holding you by the shirt, “thanks Luke, but we should get moving.”

percy stared at him without backing down, he knew what was happening. luke wasn’t as good as he thought he was. they were having a staring contest showing they both knew. percy wasn’t going to give up his sister so easily and would never dare to have someone get close to her. but, luke was prepared to fight that battle.

Night came as crickets chirped, the threes rusted softly, and two souls out of bed while the same idea in mind. just outside cabin three there was the sound of muffled voices. on the ground was the teddy bear that was givin to the young daughter of posiden, ripped to pieces as the cotton inside fell onto the ground. percy stood with his blade in hand as a threat.

“Stay away from my sister.” Percy hated the way luke just smirked at him not taking him seriously. He was just a small barking dog in his way. “She’s not yours.”

Luke clicked his tongue and chucked at the statement from the younger boy.

“Give it time, she’ll be mine soon enough.”

-£ Taglist: @maria699669 @repostingmyfavs @itzmeme @ravenmedows

#percy jackson imagine #percy jackson x reader #yandere percy jackson x reader #yandere percy jackson #yandere luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #plantonic #platonic percy jackson #Plantonic Luke castellan #yandere Luke castellan x reader

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happytroopers · 8 months

Text

Pent Up // Tech x Reader

Summary: After an awkward wake up call from a rather... entertaining... dream. You spend a week trying to distract yourself from your traitorous mind. It doesn't take long for Tech to catch on.

TW: wet dream, brief mentions of erotic things, nothing outright just a lot of build up and tension

somewhere between pg13 and R, originally I was gonna write the smut but then it sat in my drafts for two years so congrats you're getting a fade to black

18+ MDNI for sure tho

A hand shook your shoulder, shaking the last sensation of your dream away and forcing you awake with a start. A whine died on your lips as your bleary eyes snapped open to meet the eyes of the object of aforementioned dream. Your already blushed cheeks went even hotter as Tech looked down at you in mild concern and heavy curiousness. He was put together, as always, still in his armor except for his helmet. Laying in your bunk in disheveled pajamas, the contrast wasn’t lost on you. You were acutely away of how warm you were, how much you had been squirming in your sleep, how your thighs were clenching, and extremely aware of the slick warmth dampening your pajama bottoms.

As your mind reeled from the… riveting dream, it switched gears to run overdrive on how to save yourself the embarrassment of being caught having a wet dream. Caught by the one soldier you were mentally assaulting in your sleep… Under Tech’s curious gaze you wanted to melt- and not in the fun way his gaze usually made you want. How loud were you that you not only alerted the genius, but you drawn him away from his projects- something that usually took an explosion or ship crash to do?

Of course Tech didn’t look uncomfortable in the least, simply waiting for your answer as he removed his hand from your shoulder so you could scramble up into a sitting position, keeping the blanket firmly around your lower half as you batted sleep mussed hair from your face. The only consolation was that while you and Tech hit the rack, Wrecker and Hunter were supposed to be flying while Crosshair filled out his fair share of his share of field reports.

Tech gave you a once over as you collected yourself, eyebrows creasing as you tried to get your breathing under control.

"Are you alright, (y/n)?" He asked slowly, watching you curiously as your knees bowed together under your blanket. If you’re eyes weren’t screwed shut from embarrassment, you would’ve seen his Adam’s apple bob at the sight. You cleared your throat to busy trying not to focus on the way his armor accentuated all of his best features in the dim light of the bunks, hoping your voice would maintain some level of propriety.

"Y-yeah, yeah, Tech, I’m alright. ‘M Fine." You nodded just a little too quick, voice just a hair from being even, so in an attempt to feel out how much damage you did to your dignity in your sleep, you added in false casual airs, "Why do you ask?"

Tech's eyebrow went from creased to quirked, running a hand over his face, "You were tossing and turning, groaning like you were-"

You didn’t think you could take him continuing or the thought of him watching you so you went with the first excuse that came to mind, "In pain, like I was in pain."

Voice rushed, your own eyebrows furrowed at what you were saying. Tech looked confused as well- neither of you knew where this was heading.

"Pain?" He repeated, voice unbelieving but worried, "Are you…injured? Why didn’t you tell me earlier."

Well, that lie wouldn’t work either. Besides your inability to control your brain, there was nothing wrong with you. And if you couldn’t come up with something, Tech would insist on checking you over. You couldn’t look him in the eye at the moment much less let him touch you after your dream. Wait, dream!

"Injured? No, no sir." You cringed, you had never once called Tech ’sir’ since you met him, and judging by his… reaction, now wasn’t the time to start, "I had… a nightmare. Yeah, real bad nightmare. Probably gonna talk to the Civ. Enlistment shrink about it, yep."

Your nodding didn’t do much to convince the Tech, as he just watched your rambling, with a concerned furrowed brow. Running a hand over your face, flung your blanket off your legs quickly as you swung them over the side of your bunk- the middle one. Just high enough that you had to jump, but low enough someone tall like Tech could still look down at you if you were laying down. Too much laying in the dark room with the man (literally of your dreams) had your thoughts spiraling along with your white hot embarrassment- fight or flight was kicking in and you were choosing flight.

Pushing off the bunk, your bare feet hit the cold floor but you weren’t prepared for how jelly-like your legs would be. Before you could even hit your knees, Tech caught you against his chest. He was warm, and the hopeless romantic in you didn’t fail to notice how you fit perfectly against him or how easily he held you steady, and his chest was firm. Oh stars, don’t let him feel how hard my nipples are. Tech was leaner than his brothers, but no less stronger than his brothers, something that slipped your mind occasionally- only now, as your palms were splayed over his chest it wasn’t so easy to forget.

His large hands easily encased both of your arms, images flashed through your mind- but it wasn’t your arms he had been holding in your dreams. Eyes fluttering, you shook your head, backing away from the genius as soon as you were sure you wouldn’t fall over. Tech ignored your stammered apologies though you were sure cheeks were practically glowing in the dim light, "(Y/N), are you sure you’re alright? You feel warm, you might have a fever. I think I should-"

You were pretty sure if you spent one more moment with his hands on you, you would break every single rule about soldier civilian interrelations in the books so you all but wrenched away from him, earning a confused look as you grabbed the first jacket and pair of pants you could find.

"No time, I’m perfectly fine- hey that’s almost a rhyme-" You stammered, snatching your shoes, "Look at the time, things to fix, no fever here."

Tech tried to protest but you were already down the hall before he could even grab a medscanner off his belt.

I’ve been on this ship too damn long.

You thought to yourself, splashing water on your face. If the interaction with Tech wasn’t enough to keep you from sleeping again, the lingering feelings and memories from your dream kept your skin tingling and your mind swirling around one resident genius. So you gave up sleep.

Instead, you decided to work, preferably underneath floor panels where engine parts were thrumming with power - where Tech wouldn’t run into you unless he tried. Bonus points for being far away one of the few places on the ship your dream hadn’t contaminated.

If he can’t see me, I can’t think about- images of lips trailing across skin, pressing into your thighs, thighs over a lean shoulder. You smacked hands on either side of your cheeks to physically halt that train of thought, What is wrong with me?!

The answer was simple, you were the only woman on a ship of five men, one of which you pretty sure you were in love with, had been on active duty nonstop for weeks and you didn’t even have your own room- no action, no breaks, no privacy.

You worked for a couple hours straight, too embarrassed show your face again. Until, you finally surfaced top pass through the fresher. Clean face, clean thoughts, right? Growling in frustration, you ran a dry towel over your face before shoving your arms back into your work jacket.

You were so caught up in your own thoughts, you didn’t even think twice when the fresher door swished open- it was a communal fresher, it wasn’t uncommon for one or more of the Batch to share the space with you at a time. So common in fact, you didn’t even look up from your routine- adjusting your hair, swiping cosmetics on.

As you peered into the mirror, internally giving yourself a half pep talk, half scolding, the last face that you wanted to see appeared in the reflection behind you.

"Kriff!" You yelped, startled, spinning around so quickly you risked whiplash, instinctively your hands flew to balance yourself against the counter, the cool metal grounding your feverish skin. It was Tech behind you, in his blacks with a towel over his shoulder, watching you in confusion as you met his eyes briefly before your face went scarlet, your eyes dropped- resting anywhere but his. "Tech! Good morning- night… afternoon? No time in space, am I right?"

The genius’s eye brows crinkled, which you would’ve noticed if you weren’t so busy staring at the floor. Tech took another step forward, bending slightly so he could look at your face and eyes narrowing. He was close enough to touch, the smell of mechanic grease, GAR issue soap, and something so inherently Tech flooded your senses as he asked, "You didn’t get anymore sleep, did you? Are you sure you’re alright, (Y/N)?"

Another slew of images flashed through your mind, long fingers tilting your chin up, and the last time you were pressed against a counter it wasn’t from this angle, ‘is this alright?’… It was then you realized with his new position, your floor gaze had turned into staring at his abdomen, where his blacks clung to him leaving very little to the imagination. You forced your eyes up to his.

Between his scent and your own traitorous thoughts, your throat constricted, eyes widening and nostrils flaring slightly, "‘m fine. Gotta go, things need fixing."

With that, you ducked away from him and quite literally fled the scene for the second time in a matter of hours. Tech watched you go, head tilting to the side.

"I don’t understand civilians."

——

Ridiculous, You thought. I’m an adult, I should be able to control myself.

The bolt you were tightening popped out of the panel it was supposed to be holding together.

“Dank Farrik!" You growled, snatching it back and attempting to shove it into place. The first time it skewed to far to the left, and next swaying to the right, and the third it was too far up. Irritated, in rapid succession, you slammed the bolt into the metal over and over- despite it never going into the hole.

A certain part of your dream popped into your mind.

Don’t think about slamming- or holes. You quickly corrected yourself, but didn’t stop your incessant sla- jamming.

"I thought being a trained engineer meant knowing how to do something a bit more… technical than that." A drawling voice appeared over your shoulder, the bolt getting plucked out of your fingers and plugged into the ho- opening on the first try.

"Crosshair." You breathed in recognition, irritation still lacing your tone as you looked over your shoulder. The stir in your stomach thinking it might be Tech fading away into not quite relief, but something less… stirring. The marksman was leaning against the wall you were working on, it wasn’t surprising he sought you out. Aside from Tech, you were close with Crosshair- an odd friendship that no one really understood. "I thought you were next on nav rotation.”

“Tech came to the cockpit with a pretty interesting concerns. He switched shifts with me, said he had too much to think about to sleep. So, he’s up top with Hunter." The marksmen shrugged, critical eyes giving you a once over as you blushed- a more and more common occurrence.

"Yeah, we all have bad dreams sometimes." You huffed, a low blow, but if anyone could take a mean comment it was Crosshair. The nightmares were kind of a sensitive spot for most clones, but was there anyone on this ship that hadn’t already heard of your sleep... issues?

You assumed that once he got his odd version of teasing in, he would move along but Crosshair didn’t go any further than the nearest crate so he could sit down and pop a tooth pick in his mouth. You allowed him two minutes of staring before snipping, "Is there something you needed?”

"Not me. Tech wanted you to help him with something about reverse thrust-“

"I’m busy." You clipped quickly cutting off Crosshair’s words, wrenching the bolt so quickly that the metal scraped. Your fingers were shaking as you tucked hair behind your ears, clearing your throat, you elaborated, "Tech can handle them himself, he’s, ah, perfectly adept. I’m incredibly busy here.”

Crosshair lifted a single brow, looking at the squeaky cupboard panel you were working on. Clearly a bottom of the list kind of task, "You are acting weird. He might be oblivious, but he always notices you.”

"I am not acting weird." You snapped but your voice had a quirk to it, what did Crosshair mean by that? You filed that away for later, "Unless you have something to put on my to do list, I’m busy because I’m fine, Cross.”

"Riiiiight, completely normal, I’ll let him know.”

You watched him go before looking at your rather shoddy wrench-bolt job. Sighing, you set to work undoing the crooked bolt, Maybe I am a little pent up.

So started a week of awkwardness between you and Clone Force 99’s resident genius. And it wasn’t long before the rest of the batch began to catch on. Not that you were exactly subtle about it.

Any time Tech entered a room, your eyes would go wide and a flush would creep up your neck. If you were speaking to someone else, the moment you saw him you would start stuttering or just stop all together. Sometimes it was fluttery nervousness, and other times you just got distracted by his presence. But always, unless actively in a firefight, it would only take about five minutes before you’d shake your head and escape the room like a gundark out of hell.

Bright side, you spent so much time avoiding Tech you had made it to the bottom of your prioritized to-do list for the first time since joining Clone Force 99. Down sides, it was getting harder to avoid him, and as mentioned earlier, the others were starting to notice- plus, even if you to do list was getting slim, all the work was shoddy at best. When you weren’t actively avoiding him, all you could do was stare at Tech like a lovesick (re: hormonal) schoolgirl.

Crosshair had caught you staring at Tech on multiple occasions, typically flicking his toothpick at you to get you to stop. He would roll his eyes but at least he was quiet about it. He’d just tease you whenever he caught you alone, constantly reminding you of your embarrassment. If you weren’t so preoccupied with Tech, you’d be glad- his teasing his own way of accepting you into the group. But you were preoccupied, so usually, you’d huff dramatically throwing (and missing) the toothpick back in his direction.

There was the incident where Hunter himself had to order you to go with Tech on a mission, something that had never been an issue before as you usually preferred working with the genius. Subsequently, you were so high-strung that you put your complete focus on rewiring a door panel. So much focus, in fact, that Tech himself had to pull you out of the way of a super battle droid’s fire. He had pushed you against a wall and completely covered you with his body while Crosshair took care of the battle droid. Had it not been for the smoking blaster shot in the wall where you had previously been working, you would have melted when Tech so tenderly asked if you were alright. Like a helpless damsel, all you could do was stare up into the goggles of his helmet for a moment before nodding demurely. Then, so frustrated with yourself you had to walk away from the genius before you could give Hunter a reason to transfer you.

Tech, himself, had decided you were obviously upset about something and spent more time than usual trying to get you alone. He’d sit down across from you while you ate, which resulted in an awkward silence and you abandoning your barely touched food. Find you while you brushed your teeth- it had been embarrassing when you accidentally choked yourself with the toothbrush because you’d been too busy ogling him in his blacks. And if you hadn’t been so focussed on saving yourself from any additional embarrassment, you would have noticed the worried expression start to slip into a more hurt category whenever you’d literally run away from him with a lame, short excuse.

Then there was the time when Wrecker had been speaking to you, explaining how his helmet’s comms unit was shorting out after a hit in battle. You were supposed to be listening to him, figuring out from his description of the sound what the issue was and how to fix it. But over his shoulder, your eyes had landed on Tech and your breath had hitched in your throat as you watched him unfasten his armor. Like a teenager watching a strip tease, you shifted your weight from foot to foot, "Are you even listening to me?"

Wrecker’s booming voice sounded more distant that it should considering you were fiddling with his helmet, but it alerted Tech who looked up from his chest piece. His eyes immediately found yours, and you looked away quickly. After promising Wrecker you’d look into it, you took the helmet before escaping down to the cargo hold, thankful Tech didn’t follow you this time.

You might actually have too request a transfer at this rate.

It was Hunter that confronted you about it. He’d noticed your distraction, your anxious demeanor, the decline in your quality of work, and that’s just the things he noticed outright. He saved some of your pride by not mentioning everything he could smell or hear. Instead taking the role of scolding boss. A role he played expertly, judging by the exceedingly dissapointed way he said your name before pressing further.

"You’re better than this. What’s up with you?" He had asked, having followed you after you slipped away from Tech yet again. He had found you cleaning the brand-new air filters in the cargo hold.

"Nothing’s up with me, Hunter." You shrugged, hoping he would drop it. He didn’t.

"Really? ‘Cause you’ve been making rookie mistakes. You were assigned to us because you don’t do that." The sergeant reminded you, crossing his arms over his chest. You were offended to say he had a point.

"Just going a little stir crazy, Sarge." You sighed. Hunter shook his head, clapping a hand onto your shoulder.

"Do us all a favor and just tell him." He requested, shaking his head as he turned to leave, "It’s a small ship to be stir crazy on, and neither of you are subtle."

You watched him go, first embarrassed at being caught- knowing what Hunter could hear, smell, and infer, that he chose not to complain about- but then your mind fixated on something else.

"Hunter. What do you mean by ‘neither’?"

___

You were grateful for the planet’s scorching sun, some unnamed backwater (despite the lack thereof) planet that simply had been the nearest Republic friendly refuel/ maintenance station after you deduced the Havoc Marauder wouldn’t make it back to Kamino with the navigation calibration malfunctioning like they were, lest you hyper speed into a black hole. After you’d made your deduction, you had almost combusted when Tech had leaned over your shoulder, breath grazing your ear as he checked over your work at Hunter’s request. You would’ve been offended if you weren’t so busy gaping like a schoolgirl at Tech’s side profile so close to your face.

’Neither of you are subtle.’ The sergeant’s words played through your mind for the hundredth tune.

Like, for instance, as you sat in the cockpit, you were supposed to be running diagnostics on the rather shifty new calibrator and modifier Hunter had procured from the maintenance station’s ‘buy, sell, trade’ front room. It didn’t have to be perfect, it just had to get you from dust ball point A to rainy, Kaminoan point B.

But instead, you were distracted. Which should really be the summary of the past week of your life. Specifically, you were distracted by Tech’s legs. Long, armor clad, muscled, his leather side holsters clinging to the white composite as they splayed out from under the Marauder’s dash.

You never exactly forgot how tall Tech was, he towered over you even with his usually hunched posture. But, with his top half hidden underneath the console it was a reminder at just how long his legs were. Your breath caught in your throat as his hips lifted, legs tensing as metal groaned. Something snapped before Tech tossed a rusted piece of metal away from himself. The way his thighs clenched and unclenched with the effort made your entire body tense as well, you hadn’t noticed your straying focus until the electroprod zapped your hand. Fortunately, Tech’s voice drowned out your quiet yelp.

"I have found our problem." He announced, grabbing a tool off of his belt. So preoccupied with his long legs, you blinked slowly at his long fingers as they traced up his thigh to find the right tool.

"Oh? have you?" You breathed, after realizing you hadn’t answered. You shook your head, forcing yourself back to your task. You corrected your own work, the small electro prod in your hand zapped at the calibrator, mostly to see if it could handle any sort energy current. Tech had started rambling about some Acid spitting bugs the ship had picked up on Ethesda IV, apparently the coating on the calibrator was similar to their main food source. Acid spitting bugs should’ve been a turn off, but how his voice stopped and started and strained and grunted as he periodically tore out rusted pieces outweighed the bugs.

“And the calibrator? Is it satisfactory?” He asked, hips twisting as he continued working under the dash. Satisfactory? Nothing about the past weeks had been satisfactory but that wasn’t what he asked. He emerged just enough to hold his hand out.

“It’ll do.” You hummed as the diagnostic ran somewhere between yellow and green. You stood, keeping a respectable distance between you as you handed him the small piece of equipment, “I could use an extra set of hands down here, would you?”

You were digging through your mind for another lame excuse until you saw Hunter peek around the door frame of the cockpit, a look someplace between warning and scolding crossing the sergeant’s face. So, you sighed.

“Of course, where do you need m-e?” You nodded, noticing your words as they caught in your throat. You cleared it and crouched down beside the soldier. He paused for a moment, even his feet halted their slight movement until he cleared his throat as well.

“Beside me, I need you to hold the calibrator in place as I wired it in.” Tech answered you, staying half obscured but twisting his body so his hips stayed flat but he was laying on his ribs. You swallowed around nothing, sighing flatly as you wiggled under the dashboard beside him, “A bit closer, so I can reach around you.”

Stiff and rigid, you slowly inched closer to him until you were close enough for one of his arms to snake under your waist and pull you all the way to him. You choked out a yelp. Just as easily as he’d pulled you to him, he propped you just enough so his shoulder and chest could slot underneath your back.

Under the dash there was barely enough room for this position, so it wasn’t possible to keep yourself propped up unless you wanted your nose pressed to the exposed wiring he was working on. So, you had no choice but to forced yourself to at least half relax against him. Your back to his chest, his face right next to yours so the light on his goggles could illuminate the slot where the calibrator belonged, one of his knees twisted under yours leaving you caged between the legs you’d been staring at for so long. His even breaths were fanning over your cheek, the two of you practically puzzle pieced together. He retracted the arm from underneath your waist and moved himself accordingly so that arm instead went under your neck, further trapping you against him.

“Apologies, though I trust I don’t need to explain to you what happens if this comes loose during light speed travel.” He explained, though you couldn’t see how his analytical eyes watched you carefully as he pressed the calibrator back into your hands and guided them to the correct spot, “Perfect, just there.”

His fingers left your wrist and began the process of wiring the calibrator into place. You were grateful for his armor, even if your couldn’t ignore his scent and warmth all around you, you were positive if you could feel his muscles moving underneath you you’d have to stick your hand in the power source to keep from committing a serious breech of civilian-solider contact etiquette. Just a snap of his hips… placed just under the round of your ass…

“You’re shaking, is everything alright?” Tech’s voice shocked you out of your thoughts. You flinched, almost jerking the half connected calibrator right back out of the dash. You tried thinking of a reason, but your voice seemed caught somewhere between your heart and throat. So you settled for a vague hum.

“Mhm.”

“Would you hand me the microwelder? It’s on the right side of my belt.”

Even your breaths were shaking as you used one hand to keep the calibrator in place, and used the other the blindly reach down between the two of you. Your fingers grazed against the composite of the armor on his thigh, overshooting your aim for his belt. For the first time, he tensed as well. Using nothing but touch, you worked your way up, trying to keep your touch as light as possible as it worked over his holsters and to the tools hanging from his belt. You put all your focus on your mechanical knowledge, deducing the tools by shape- data scomp, electoprod, multitool, electrical tape… microwelder. You almost cried in relief, jerking your hand away as soon as you’d unclipped it. The slight graze of your finger tips against his glove palms felt the same as sticking your fingers in the power source. Tech’s shoulders adjusted, jostling the both of you. Though he didn’t struggle to move you at all, his voice sounded ever so slightly strained as he used the microwelder to hold the wires in place, “Almost there, keep doing what your doing.”

Kriff, what the hell was wrong with this man?

“There. That should do it.”

You wiggled out from the dash so fast that you almost didn’t register his hands on your waist assisting you. Almost. Tech watched after you, the curiosity in his eyes turning into something more akin to understanding as you slipped into the fresher.

—

You had never been so grateful to touchdown on Kamino. After the longest week of your life on probably the smallest ship you could’ve been assigned to, you were ready for some much needed space. And the privacy of the usually empty civilian barracks sounded like the perfect retreat. Kamino was the one republic stronghold that didn’t have a shortage of workers, they didn’t need a civilian enlistments to lighten the load when they could hand the tasks off to Cadet’s and call it a learning experience. Usually you found Kamino to be lonely, only seeing the boys at meal times, but this time you were chomping at the bit, praying to the Force or whatever other entity out there that the bunks would be empty as usual.

As soon as the Marauder touched down in the hangar, you were down the loading steps before it even finishing descending. You finished your debriefs in record time and skipped dinner in favor of returning to the Havoc Marauder to start fixing some of your shoddier than usual workmanship in addition to typical post-mission ship maintenance since your bunk would be the first place Tech might look for you.

"I thought I would find you here.”

You physically jumped when Tech’s calm voice called out from the ship’s entrance, hitting your head on the cockpit’s console you were working under. Cursing under your breath, you scuttled out from under the console. Tech was leaning against the entrance to the cockpit, watching you like a wild animal who might spook. You guessed that wasn’t too far off from the truth judging by the already rising heat to your face and the way your eyes danced around to anywhere but his face.

"You missed dinner." He informed you when you didn’t respond, rubbing your head as you closed the panel you had been working on and pulled yourself up to your knees.

"Oh, did I?" You asked in faux concern as if you hadn’t purposely skipped communal dinner. Suddenly, you realized you were looking up to him from your knees and your nearly choked on the recycled air your were breathing. You scrambled up to your feet, nervously smoothing out your clothes as you momentarily met Tech’s eyes before purposely pointing your own gaze else where- the blinking lights around the cockpit very interesting. In your peripheral, you saw his eyebrows furrow, face hardening as you leaned back against the console.

"Have I done something to bother you?" He asked, suddenly. Moving a bit closer to you, he froze when you leaned even further away.

"Not a thing, Tech. Why do you ask?”

One of his eyebrow quirked behind his goggles, telling you he didn’t believe you for a moment. Tech might be oblivious about somethings, but he always knew when you were lying to him, "You have not looked me in the eye, much less spoken to me since…”

He trailed off, looking to you to finish his thought. Your rose tint flashed ruby, redder than the shield button blinking on the console behind you. Yep, time to escape.

"Listen, Tech, I really don’t-" You chuckled dryly, moving to squeeze past him.

"Have time for this? I think you do." Tech shook his head, sidestepping so his larger frame immediately cut off your exit. Bumping into the composite chest piece of his armor, you stammered something akin to an excuse as you tried to squeeze past you again. The genius repeated his action, this time catching you by bracing his hands on either of your arms and holding them gently to your side to keep you in place.

Now, you were forced to look up at him, trying to ignore how much skin his longs fingers managed to cover. You wondered if he could feel your erratic pulse under your skin. He observed your face for a moment, from the tint in your cheeks, the quickness of your breath, to part of your lips. He muttered mostly to himself but you caught it, "Dramatic dilation of the eyes, heightened pulse, shallow breathing, erratic behavior.”

Once he finished his list- or maybe stopped listing aloud for your pride’s sake- he cleared his throat, releasing his grip one your arms so you could take a hesitant step back. Your mind was screaming at you to create some distance, but your thudding heart made it hard to force yourself to move. Tech wasn’t finished with you yet though, his chocolate yes narrowed on you before softening as he continued, "Hunter informed me that you didn’t have a ’nightmare’, as you said.”

Yep, you were going to spontaneously combust if the ground didn’t open up and swallow you first- either option was preferable to the turn in conversation. Hell, spontaneous separatist invasion would be less painful.

"Listen, Tech, I really-" You started, but silenced yourself when you saw the way he adjusted his stance. Shoulders broader, chin dipping lower, one leg moving forward…. if you were any closer it would be between your legs.

"He also had a few theories about the content of said dream, one in particular that interested me." He continued, voice dipping as he continued to stalk towards you until the back of your thighs hit the control deck, forcing you to half lean half sit on the panel. Your backside pressed a couple buttons, managing to conveniently kill the overhead lights and close the door to the bridge in one fell swoop. Whoever was in charge of the force, you wanted to have a firm talking to because you’re heart couldn’t take much more of this. "You’re in your prime, in multiple adrenaline and endorphin inducing situations, surrounded by 4 men… a healthy drive is nothing to be so embarrassed of.”

Your own voice wasn’t quite a sure, almost choked as you nodded, "Gl-glad we covered that, Tech.”

"I also know, from my research, that the easiest way to resolve this is to act on it.”

Your mind actually went blank the moment the word sunk in. You weren’t sure, but there was a large likelihood you just stood there and gaped at Tech like a fish. He waited, eyes analyzing you from behind the goggles. One moment passed, and then two before you spoke.

"Act on it…" You repeated slowly, butterflies melting from your stomach, pooling elsewhere, "Like.. you want to act on it with me?”

Tech closed the distance, his hands on you again. One at your hip and one gracing your hair, "We really were as oblivious as Hunter said.”

The armor on his hips pressed into your soft flesh, his long diligent fingers trailing down your arm, "You can tell me to stop.”

Your eyes had be following his fingers down, your own twitched and laced into the leather straps that held his holsters to his thighs as if that would tether him to you, "Please don’t.”

A ghost of a smile went across his face before he startled you, picking you up swiftly and depositing you in the pilots seat. You weren’t quite sure of the logistics of this decision until he knelt down in front of you, kissing your lips first and yet not long enough for your liking. You chased his mouth with yours, but he pulled back, focussing down to your belt.

“Now, tell him. How did these dreams of yours go?”

---

as usual half edited so excuse the typos

#love u tech #sorry this sat in my drafts for two years #tbb x reader #tbb tech x reader #Tech x reader #clone wars x reader #tbb tech x you #tech x you #tech imagine

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xveenusx · 1 year

Text

Love

Paring(s): rafe cameron x fem!reader

Summary: in which two people come to terms with how dangerous their love is, but it's impossible to leave.

Author's note: Rafe on his knees is sending me. This is part two to Hate and is complete angst because I like to hurt my own feelings. ALSO, the GIFS depict exactly what's going to happen in this peice to help you visualize it better :)

Rating: ANGSTY, but kind of a good ending but not really bc they are horrible for each other

Warnings: v toxic relationship

Part 1: Hate

━━ ★ Masterlist

_____________________

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

My head hung against the cool tile in the shower, water pounding against my body as I fought against the urge to succumb to my pain.

You won't ever be over me

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Yet, it didn't work. I couldn't block out his words as they pistoled into my mind again and again. Slapping my hand against the tile, I groaned out loud and rubbed my eyes.

Memories of my mistake continue to stampede over every coherent thought I could form. It was embarrassing how easily I gave into him, but when he touched me, all sense went out the window.

He was the chink in my armor, because when he loved me, I mean really loved me, the sun shined brighter and the world went into focus. He could ask me anything and I would have told him in a heart beat. There was just this sense of security that finally gave me the ability to be myself. I felt like I was safe and solid ground for the first time in my life.

But as time went on, there were small slip ups that caught my attention. The hushed meetings with his father, his eagerness to be around my friends, the constant Q and A about gold.

I pushed passed the alarm bells ringing in my head because I didn’t want it to end. I caught him in lie after lie which always ended in a screaming match. I’d storm away but it always ended in us finding our way back to each other. Always.

Maybe it’s wrong to say this, but I was relieved that he needed me just as bad as I needed him. He couldn’t seem to leave me alone either.

The longer we were together, I couldn’t help but begin to question why he was really with me. The idea of there being an ulterior motive for loving me paralyzed me with fear.

Because, if that was true, I didn't think I'd survive it.

So like a junkie, in every sense of the word, I gave into the drug that was Rafe Cameron and gave him anything he wanted. I became an entirely different person that I didn't recognize.

I was so desperate to be loved by him that it almost killed me.

A familiar burning behind my eyes made me smile in irony. Tears usually accompanied anything that involved Rafe.

I slowly slid down the shower wall, bringing my knees to my chest, and set my chin on top. Closing my eyes, I attempted to focus on the pounding of the water but despite the noise, it couldn’t overpower the noise in my head.

Detoxing was nearly impossible. I'd take another dose, and then another, but when the high eventually wore of—because it always did—this is what was left:

A shell of me withered down in self loathing.

I hate you.

No, you don't.

The water eventually turned cold but I refused to move from my spot on the floor. I just couldn't face him, not yet.

It hurt to fucking look at him.

A fist pounded on the bathroom door but I chose to ignore it. I shivered slightly at the ice cold water but preferred this biting pain over what awaited me on the other side of that door.

"Open the door."

I turned my head away from the door and instead rested my cheek on the top of my knee and stared at the wall.

"I'm not fucking kidding. Open the door, why is this shit locked anyway?"

I rolled my eyes. The dramatics were unmatched.

"Go away." I croaked out, hoping for once in his god damn life that he listened. "I swear to god."

"I'm shaking in my boots, babe."

Jesus Christ.

"Rafe-"

"I can hear you crying from out here."

That shut me up. I thought I was being discreet. "I'm fine. Please go away."

He pounded on the door again. "Do you really think a locked door is gonna stop me?."

My eyes closed briefly at his words. The organ in my chest that refused to listen to reason began to beat a little harder.

"Rafe, please. I need a minute." My voice cracked at the end of my plea.

It was quiet for a few moments before I heard his feet shuffle away. I relaxed in relief at his departure and lifted my head directly under the water, hoping it will clear my mind.

"Fuck this." Was all I heard before a sharp crack echoed and the door busted open.

My gaze found his and it took all my strength to not shrink under his gaze. I'm sure I was a sight for sore eyes, curled up on the floor of the shower shivering.

Rafe let out a distressed noise before moving towards me but I scooted back, throwing my palm up. “Stop.”

He stopped in his tracks with narrowed eyes. “You have about five seconds.”

“Boundaries. We need boundaries.”

“Boundaries?” He repeated slowly, making it seem like the term was foreign to him. “What the fuck for?”

“Because I need a moment. Let me cry in peace.”

Rafe nodded his head and relief let me drop my shoulders.

“Well, I’m not leaving you alone when you cry, there, that’s my boundary.”

I open my mouth and close it. He couldn’t be serious?

He shut off the water while letting out a string of curses as he took in my shivering figure. Yanking a towel off the rack, I'm suddenly enveloped in warmth as he wrapped the towel around my body and picked me up.

His scent lured me in like an old friend. Exhaustion weighed on me heavily so I gave in yet again.

I shoved my face into his neck enjoying the warmth his body provided and the shivering slowly subsided. Rafe said nothing as he set me on the edge of the bed and softly began to dry me.

He was gentle despite the severe expression he wore.

“We should probably talk.” He uttered, running the towel along my legs.

I shook my head, the desire to sleep was overwhelming.

Rafe paused. “I can already feel you pulling back from me.”

He knew me all too well.

Arguing him was pointless. We’d both end up with our voices gone and nothing solved.

“I can’t do this with you right now. I just want this day to be over.” I spoke quietly, fiddling with my fingers.

Rafe doesn’t answer me, instead he grabs some satin set and slowly started to dress me. Lifting my arms, he pulled the thin tank over my head before kneeling down and doing the same with the bottoms.

It was moments like this that almost made me cave. Rafe Cameron, of figure eight, heir to a real estate empire, was down on his knees for a Pogue.

Pressing a gentle kiss to my inner knee, he stood up, towering over me with his hand cupping my face. His face was the picture of relaxed despite our current kidnapping, but I knew it was solely because we were together.

“This can’t happen again.” The words were out of my mouth in seconds.

He just smiled, humming softly to himself as he continued to stare.

So I tried again. “You can sleep on the floor.”

That made the smile drop fast.

“You want me to sleep on the floor?”

“Yes.”

“Like the actual floor?” Rafe asked slowly, his gaze moving down to the hard wooden floor in distaste.

“The fucking floor, Rafe.”

His eyes narrowed at my tone, “Why?”

“Because I said so.” Because, my panties will be off in seconds.

“Try again. I’ll argue with you all night until you tell me why.”

“Does this not hurt you as much as it hurts me? Looking at you fucking kills me.”

“I’m going to marry you. It might not be today, it might not be tomorrow. But I will marry you," He said the words so nonchalantly, you would think he was discussing the weather, "So no, it doesn’t hurt me to look at you, to be around you, because I know this is never going to end. I'm going to spend the rest of my life with you."

I waited, for what seemed like forever, to hear him say these words. Yet, now that he did, I simply didn't believe it. Too much has happened. His words no longer held the weight that they used to and for a brief moment I felt a twisted sense of relief because that meant I was one step closer to being free of the shackles that chained me to him.

My brows furrowed as I tried to think of something to say, but nothing came out.

I shook my head and crawled towards the front of the bed, tugging the sheets down and burrowing myself into a cocoon. "Go to sleep, Rafe."

He muttered something under his breath as he walked over to the makeshift bed on the floor. I heared some shuffling before a heavy sigh echoed in our room and I knew he finally settled.

It was for the best. My sanity needed to remain intact and this was the only way. That didn't stop me from missing the warm embrace of his body that always lulled me to sleep.

Rolling onto my side, I peaked over the side of the bed and saw his head already turned in my direction. A faint smirk tugged at the coner of his lips and his eyes sparkled with amusement.

"You still want me on the floor?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes." No.

Rafe let out a chuckle before silence enveloped us and the only thing I could hear was the sound of our steady breathing. All trace of humor left his face and we stared at each other, his eyes never leaving mine. It almost appeared like he was commiting my face to memory.

"You're safe. You can go to sleep," Rafe murmured, "I won't let anything happen to you."

A familar rush of affection slammed into my chest and I forced myself to break eye contact first. I couldn't let him see the expression that adorned my face. He was embedded deeply into my soul.

"I-" I love you.

Rafe cut me off, "I know."

Curled on my side with the sheets pulled up to my neck, I closed my eyes and whispered painfully, "I wish I didn't."

I could feel his gaze burning holes into my back, but I knew better than to turn around. Sleep, I told myself, everything will be better tomorrow.

Minutes passed and I knew he wasn't going to answer.

"I know that too." Was all I heard before I embraced the darkness with open arms.

_______________

Disoriented.

That's how I woke up. My eyes felt heavy and my head drummed against my skull. This pain comparable to only being severely hungover. Yet, I barley had anything at all. It was simply the Rafe effect, also known as extreme emotional distress.

I rubbed the sleepiness from eyes while my mind betrayed me with replays of the last 24 hours. Peering over the edge of the bed, Rafe is sprawled out awkwardly on the ground sleeping. His bare chest slowly rising up and down, his necklace gleaming from the morning light that seeped into the room.

It hurt to look at him, but when I looked away, it hurt even more. The fear of forgetting what he looked like or how he sounded when he laughed consumed me. What if everything faded?

Love and hate were more similar than one would think.

As if sensing I was was awake, Rafe shifted onto his side and opened his eyes slowly. I watched as his eyes took in our surroundings before last 24 hours finally hit him.

Instantly, his eyes find mine and his body relaxes, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

He got up from his spot on the floor and made his way over to me. Sleepiness still present in his eyes, but his face was content. The bed dips and a warm hand pushed my hair out of my eyes before tracing my nose then the outline of my lips.

"Good morning." The low raspy timber of his voice had me clenching my thighs together.

I allowed myself these few seconds to bask under the glow of his attention. Swallowing down the lump in my throat at what I'm about to do, I steel the storm of emotions that brew inside me.

Moving my face out of his grasp, I shifted my body into a sitting positon, placing a slight distance between us. "I meant what I said last night. This will not happen again."

The words burned coming out my mouth.

"Can we just skip this part?"

I shot him a blank look. "What part?"

He heaves out a sigh, his large hand rubbing against his buzzed head. "Aren't you tired?"

Did he hit his head? Confused filled me as I glanced at the unmade bed. "Tired? I just slept-"

Rafe barked out a bitter laugh. "Of running. Aren't you tired of running?"

My fingers gripped my satin top in an attempt to control my anger. He would choose this exact moment to bait me. Maybe six months ago I would have taken the bait, but I was drained.

He always chose the hard way.

"Really? You want to have this conversation now?" Keep calm. Breathe.

Rafe searched my face with a serious expression, then his lips tipped. "I don't know if you remember, but we have all the time in the world."

I rolled my eyes. Despite my very weak attemps at pushing him away, Rafe never seemed discouraged. He only appeared mildly annoyed at my desperate attempts to kick him out of my life.

"You're about 6 months late on your right to have this conversation. Now, get off of my bed." I tried to shove him off. Nothing.

Blue eyes narrowed. Good, I hope he was mad. He'll finally understand what it was like to be me the past couple months.

"If you're trying to piss me off, it's working. So stop." Was all he said, with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Stop doing what, Rafe? There is nothing left to talk about."

"Stop acting like you don't care."

Rafe's determined attitude was exhausting.

And somehow, despite everything, I still felt myself drawn to him, even after how poorly he's treated me.

"Acting like I don't care is all I have left." My stomach tightened at my honesty.

His cold blue eyes grew distant, clearly not liking my truth.

"You have me."

The conviction in his voice would make anyone believe him, but I wasn't going to fall for his pretty words again, no matter how badly I wished they were true.

"No, I don't. I never did so this entire conversation is pointless." I stated a matter-of-factly. "Do yourself a favor and walk away."

Clicking his tongue, Rafe shook his head at me. "There you go again, telling me what I can and cannot do."

I had to hurt him to just get the distance I needed. He'd leave me alone if I hurt him.

"What are you gonna do? Tell your dad on me?" The minute the words flew out of my mouth, I regretted them.

Artic eyes narrowed into slits and his entire demeanor shifted, his shoulders tense and face hard. "Don't talk about him."

"Got daddy issues, do you?" My mouth would not stop.

I could see that I was successfully hitting my target, but it only made my heart ache. It needed to be done though.

Rafe's expression shut off, a familiar cold look settling in his eyes. "Tread fucking lightly."

My heart thudded dangerously as I debated my next words. "I might not hate you today or tomorrow, but I will hate you. Because, hating you is better than loving you."

The words tasted like vinegar coming out of my mouth, but they had their desired effect.

Agony briefly flickers on his face, but he schooled his expression. His eyes seemed to bore through me, our stare off so intense, that I had to look away.

If I believed he could change, even if there was a slight chance, then I would have fought for us. But, I knew him like the back of my hand and Rafe was who he was—unapologetically. I didn't have any fight left.

"I know what you're doing." His voice trembled, dark and on the verge of breaking.

I closed my eyes in defeat. Of course he did. I couldn't even hurt him without him seeing straight through me.

"You want to make me the bad guy? Fine. I'm the bad guy, bad Rafe Cameron. But don't pretend for one second that I'm not under your skin just as bad."

"You are, you are and it's exhausting," I grimaced. "Does knowing that make you feel better?"

"Yes, it does because I'm not the only one feeling like this."

My throat clogged. "How much longer can we keep doing this?"

"As long as it takes for you to give in." Rafe stroked a strand of hair behind my ear, the clouds of his eyes gleaming with twisted adortion.

Frustration bubbled up the surface. He was relentless in his pursuit, not caring if he hurt me in the process. As long as I was his, nothing else matterd, even my pain.

"This isn't a game. I am not a game." I stated harshly, shoving his hand away. "I'm a person--a person who has feelings."

His expression reamined unreadable. "A person with feelings for me."

I was losing. Badly. Talking to Rafe was like talking to a brick wall.

"I've had to put myself together three times, Rafe. Three times!" I screamed, my voice cracking in despair. "Each time harder than the last."

"I finally glued myself together again and you're already pulling away the pieces. For how long am I yours this time? A week?" I pushed. "A month?"

"You've moved on before so do it again. Let me do the same." I cleared my throat to push back tears.

"You think I haven't tried?" He asked incrediously, throwing his hands up in the air in utter disbelief.

Rafe stalked over to me, his eyes brewing with anger as he pointed to the veins in his arms. "You're in so deep, I can't get you out of my system."

I knew the feeling all too well. I am not going to cry.

"'You're right here. Right fucking here and you won't go away." He reached for my hand and placed it directly on his heart which pounded wildy under my touch.

My resolve was breaking and my previous anger easing away like a silent wave. He didn't have any peace either.

The heavy weight on my chest had me leaning forward, resting my forehead against his pec, my hand still in his grasp, pressed tightly against his heart.

"Loving you almost ruined my life." Rafe was a cliff. One that I threw myself over again and again, expecting to fly only to be met with cold hard concrete.

"Again with the meladrama?" Spell broken once more. Another peice being peeled away from me.

A joke, this was all a joke to him.

"You're not listening to me. You never listen to me." I shouted directly into his face, pointing to myself, needing him to finally fucking see me.

Tears finally fell from my eyes as I stared at him with pathetic hoplessness.

"How is what I did any worse than what you did?" The world stopped spinning as his words hit my chest. Something inside me broke.

I shook my head in utter diesbelief at his words. I pushed to my feet, my hands collided with his chest as I shoved him with all my strength.

I headed straight towards the bedroom door, slamming my fists against the door in an attempt to get the guards attention. I was slowly suffocating in this room. He always managed to do this to me.

I should've known better. I mean really known better. Rafe was a mindfuck.

"Run away one more time and I swear to god-" Rafe advaced toward me, his hands reaching out for me.

No, he needed to keep his hands to himself.

"Don't talk to me." I spat, holding my hand up. Facing the door once again, I pound several more times with no response before accepting defeat.

Slumping against the door with my forehead resting against the cool wood, I pleaded, "I can't be in here any more. I just can't."

Once again, no answer.

"We're talking about this. You don't get to avoid this conversation anymore."

"Want to try that again-stop!" Rafe bent down and tossed my body over his shoulder. Anger burned through my veins as I struggled against his grip, but it did nothing to deeter him as he stalked us over to the bed.

Dropping my body roughly on the bed, he towered over me and met my gaze, warning clear in his eyes.

Swallowing my pride, I dug my nails into the soft flesh of my palms. "You can't compare our actions. They aren't even on the same playing field, Rafe,"

"I can and I am comparing them, because believe it or not baby, it's the same damn thing."

Rafe was standing directly in front of me, his large thighs caging my dainty figure in. My chest heaved up and down in anger.

"Is that what you tell yourself so you don't have to deal with the fact that you're a shitty person? I'm not listening to this." My gaze was frantic as I tried to figure out an escape plan.

"I've clearly been too nice. You don't have a fucking choice. "

"Rafe, stop it."

"No, you stop it. Why are you acting like you expected me to be a nice guy? I'm not and never will be. So, you're going to sit here and listen to what I have to say." He tone harsh and unnegotiable, grasping my chin in between his fingers.

I glared, meeting his harshness with mine. Fingers threaded into my hair as he forced my head back to stare at him.

"You knew exactly who I was when you met me. You saw the good, bad, and the ugly and still chose to fucking love me," He snarled, his hand slammed against his chest, "to love me."

Oh god. Was he right? He was.

"Then you leave me for being who you fell in love with?" Rafe's body was shaking as he jerked my head back towards his face when I tried to look away. "Knowing who I am and loving me anyway, just for you to walk away. Am I that easy to walk away from? "

His gaze was expectant but he already knew the answer. No, he wasn't easy to walk away from. It almost killed me each and every time.

"No." I answered, my voice so low it came out as a whisper.

"How is that any more cruel than what I did to you?" I couldn't answer becuase he was right. My heart bled at this point as I tried to scramble some coherent thought. I wanted to say something, anything to counter his statements but fell short.

A sob caught the back of my throat.

"So get the fuck off your high horse. I beat up Pope on figure 8 and guess who kept my bed warm after that?" He mused, his fingers brushing against my knees forcing them open more. "I shot and killed Sheriff Peterkin and you consoled me."

I gulped for air but it seemed like nothing was reaching my lungs. He was right. We were so inextricably linked that his darkness became my own. It was so easy for me to excuse all of his horrible actions simply because I love him.

The laugh he let out sent shivers down my spine. "Fuck, I almost drowned Sarah and you still opened your legs for me. Still loved me, didn't you?"

Horror filled every cell in body. I curled my arms into myself as pain slashed through my heart while my hands and arms shook.

"So which one of us is really fucked up?" Me. Him. Both.

Rafe pulled his lip into his mouth as he regarded me with dark eyes. Leaning over me, he brought his mouth to my ear, the ghost of his breath causing shivers to wrack down my spine. "The answer is between your legs."

I stopped breathing. Wetness seeped onto the silk bottoms leaving an obvious stain on my pants. I tried to close my legs, but Rafe let out a little tisk.

I thought I had a chance to save myself before I got stuck in the trecherous storm that was Rafe Cameron. I was doomed the moment I met him.

He smiled at me almost as though he knew I reached the same conclusion as he did.

Rafe lowered to his knees, resting directly in between mine, with his hands raised up. I stare down at him with broken eyes, my handsome monster kneeling on the ground for only me.

When he saw I made no point to move, his large calloused hand covered my shaking ones while the other softly grazed the damn spot in between my legs causing me to visibly tremble.

"Do you get it now? There is no after for us. There is and always will be an us." The words were spoken softly, but firm. Though his eyes weren't on me, and in stead were in between my lefs. His hold on my hands being the only thing anchoring me.

I did. I hated that I loved him. I hated how he'd never leave. I especially hated how I couldn't leave. I hated my body's gross reaction to him and his filthy words.

"I love you."

My head jerked up, eyes wide with surprise at his confession.

"I do. That's why I wear the necklace and the cufflinks." He answered my question. He finally answered my question.

Before I could respond, a soldier bursted into the room with narrowed eyes. He took in the scene before him before relaxing but my body was snapped with tension.

Rafe looked down at our hands before standing up slowly and letting go. "Trust me."

He was asking in the only way he knew how, by demanding. He'd broken so many promises before that the trust between us was in shards. I found myself nodding anyways.

I'd already been broken before, what was once more?

In seconds, Rafe lunged toward the solider with his hands fisting along the shoulders of the man's bulletproof vest. Slamming his body hard to the ground, Rafe climbed on top before lifting the man's body and slamming it against the floor again and again.

He dragged his fist back before slashing it with quick and brute force against the soldier's face. Blood splattered against the white tiled floors as the man groaned in pain.

Rafe didn't stop. His knuckles becoming a marred mess due to them being split open. He didn't even wince.

"Get the gun." A loud ringing noise echoed in my ears as I stared at the unconcious man on the floor who's face was unrecognizable.

"Baby, get the gun." The term of endearment pulled my out of my head. Rafe's electric eyes stared at me with urgency and darted to the side.

I moved my head in the direction of his stare and see a black gun several feet away. My brain shut off and body felt numb as I picked it up with trembling hands.

My steps were timid and hestitant as I walked back over to him. He held out his hand, the rings shining in the light. "Bring it here."

For a second, a brief second, the thought of shooting him crossed my mind. I could be free of him. I could do it.

No, I couldn't. I loved him. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

I rested the heavy pistol in his hand and watched as he dug through the man's pocket and grabbed a phone. "We're getting out of here. I have my boat parked somewhere here on the island. We get to it and we can go wherever you want. Just me and you."

Rafe stood and stepped towards me, determination in his eyes, with his hand held out for me to grab.

I took a sharp intake of breath. My blood rushed loudly in my ears as I decided what I was about to do. My friends, my life, were they worth losing for him?

His necklace sparkling against the sun and those cuflinks shining against his shirt caught my attention.

Our souls were wired together, infused. I was a monster. Just like him.

Loving Rafe was a death sentence. Little did I know—I was already dead.

I reached for his hand.

_________________

Psycho toxic rafe is the man of my dreams but also my nightmares :) They are both crazy though clearly and need help.

Let me know what you think! Next up is Conrad fucking Fisher and I assure you, your heart will be broken.

Tag list: @narcissuspetal @valeriedelevingne @harrys-humble-housewife @mrs-dasilvasantoss @yoonki-bored @maybankslover @blazebreaker @thepopcultureaddict @cartiiwannagotoplutoo @imawhoreforu @jj-pls-give-me-a-chance @summer-may

#obx smut #outerbanks imagine #obx #rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #rafe angst #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron angst #drew starky #drew staryk angst #outer banks season 3 #outer banks #outerbanks fanfiction

688 notes · View notes

kaiijo · 1 year

Text

BLUE LOCK PLAYERS AS DEMIGODS (i) — [BLUE LOCK]

characters: shidou ryusei, oliver aiku, itoshi sae content: gn! reader (reader is called “sunshine” once in shidou’s) slightly suggestive humor, set at camp half-blood (or some random camp for demigods lol) but you don’t need to have read percy jackson to read this notes: references this post

⋆｡° child of ares! shidou x child of apollo! you

it’s unsurprising to all of your siblings that shidou ryusei is in and out of the infirmary a lot because he gets into A LOT of fights (“typical ares kid” your siblings say while rolling their eyes)

the first time he came to the infirmary, you were the only one brave enough to patch him up given that, not only is shidou known for picking random fights but also for being kind of batshit crazy. after that, you were the only one he even let touch him without lowkey growling at them…

“shidou’s here again,” otoya, one of your half-brothers, informed you one day. you sighed heavily and found shidou in the waiting room, beckoning him back to an exam room

“take your shirt off,” you told him and he grinned some wild smile at you and said, “ooh, already trying to get me naked? at least take me to dinner, sunshine”

you snorted and when he did, your eyes widened at the giant, purpling bruise forming on his side. “what happened this time? “underlashes junior got really into sparring”

ah, that made sense - this wasn’t the first time shidou got into a physical altercation with itoshi rin

“leave the kid alone,” you said as you grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and threw it at him

he caught it and asked, “not gonna hold it against me yourself?” “why would i do that” “well you were so eager to get my shirt off” “you’re insufferable”

shidou licked his teeth, still looking at you with that shit-eating grin. “yeah but you like that”

what was the most annoying this about that statement: you couldn’t exactly say it’s a total lie

⋆｡° child of poseidon! oliver aiku x child of athena! you

oliver aiku had a bit of a reputation as a womanizer and, to be fair, it’s not undeserved. he was charming and hot, it’s not like it’s just random, and he probably flirted with nearly every person within a ten mile radius of camp

he first noticed you at a game of capture the flag. not to brag or anything, but oliver was known as the best defender at camp but somehow, the opposing team managed to outmaneuver him and his team and steal the flag and carry it to their side

shocked and impressed, oliver inquired as to who was the mastermind behind this strategy and the answer was simple: you, a child of athena

he found you in the armory, hanging your sword back up and, leaning against the doorway, he said, “hey”

you glanced over your shoulder. “hey?”

“so you’re the master strategist?” “yeah” “i don’t think we’ve met, im oliver.” “yeah i know” and with that, you resumed taking off the rest of your armor

well, that was new

“you know,” oliver said, strolling over to stand beside you as he took off his own armor, “i’d love to get to know you better. not every day someone manages to pull one over on me. wanna grab some lunch”

you gave him a side eye and said, “sorry, i’ve got something else to do” and then you brushed past him and out of the armory

oliver watched your retreating form and it was from that day on that he decided his just had to make you his

(spoiler: he eventually succeeds after many, many, many times asking you out (read: groveling, begging on his knees, etc.))

⋆｡° child of zeus! itoshi sae x child of hermes! you

you get sent on a quest with itoshi sae and you were forewarned by multiple different people that you should brace yourself for a quick but absolutely miserable experience

“sae’s super powerful but gods, his attitude is absolute shit”

honestly, all the things people told you should have worried you more but you ignored them. it wasn’t fair to listen to hearsay about someone in your opinion and besides, it just made you want to step up to the challenge and befriend him even more

as the two of you set off, you asked him a bajillion questions about him, his life outside of camp, his life at camp, his brother rin (which earned you the most acidic glare and the meanest answer ever), and whatever else you could think of

“do you ever stop talking?”

“not really” sae gave you another withering look

you ran into tons of monsters and it was honestly incredible to witness the full power of a child of a big three god - sae’s battle prowess coupled with his control over lightning had you feeling just a little unnecessary but you also assisted well (sae wouldn’t admit it but he was pretty surprised by your quick thinking and reflexes and your skill with your weapon)

finding that you weren’t completely useless was when sae began not being so short with you and actually made some effort at conversation and you two lowkey started bonding over the next few days

one might even say sae began to develop some semblance of fondness

you had a major breakthrough with him when you essentially sacrificed yourself and threw yourself in front of whatever mythical beast you were sent to defeat

sae never disposed of an enemy quicker than he had in that moment and he got you two back to camp even faster

you’re passed out for three days in the infirmary and when you woke up, sae’s asleep in the chair besides your bed

“oh good, you’re awake!” one of the apollo kids who works at the infirmary entered the room. “how are you feeling?”

“a little sore” you glanced over at sae and the apollo kid said, “not sure how you managed it but sae’s refused to leave the infirmary since he brought you back. must make you pretty special.”

#blue lock demigods #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #shidou ryusei x reader #shidou x reader #oliver aiku x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock scenarios #.𖥔 ݁ ˖ kaiijo writes

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indigofyrebird · 2 months

Text

A Tale of Brothers

820 words

Rated G!

Kind of angsty. Kind of sweet.

-----------

"What, no hug for me?" As soon as the words left his mouth, Crosshair wished he could take them back. He hated the way it made him sound like a child, like he wanted a hug. He didn't.

Echo's response made him cringe inwardly. "Depends on how good your intel is." Crosshair turned his head away from the other man's intense gaze, huffing out a dismissive breath. He didn't need Echo's approval. He surely didn't need a hug from him.

Dinner was awkward. Talk of Tech made the ache in his heart threaten to overwhelm him. His food tasted like sawdust. He offered what he could with information about Barton IV, his hand tremoring hard at the memories it brought up. They would leave in the morning.

When Wrecker brought his armor kit out and presented it to him he could hardly speak for the lump in his throat. One glance up at the back of Wrecker's head and then the brief eye contact with Hunter had him turning away, heart feeling like it had dropped into his stomach. Why do I care what HE thinks? Crosshair cursed to himself.

Omega lightened his mood immidiately. She was good at that. Reminding him that she was the older sister. Now that was funny. He smiled, the feeling foreign on his lips.

------

Crosshair stepped out into the bright sunlight, adjusting his chest plate. His old armor was a little loose but he had to admit it felt good. It felt like home. Like all the memories of a childhood spent learning to fight alongside his brothers were held in each piece of armor. He would be forever grateful to Wrecker for keeping it safe for him.

Looking up at the ungodly screeching, he watched the ice vulture circling overhead. Mayday's voice in his head combined with the frigid temperature sent a shiver through him. The sun coming through the clouds was nothing more than light, giving off very little warmth.

Inside, the abandoned building was dark. Wrecker clicked on his flashlight. Echo's response to Crosshair's "I guess it served its purpose" with "sounds familiar" made Crosshair a little sour and he turned to explore alone. Does he have to remind me of my mistakes? To rub it in? The helmets when he found them did nothing to help his mood. Cast aside, their purpose served. The human beings that once wore them, long gone. Crosshair knelt to retrieve one of them. They had served their purpose hadn't they, he thought. I served my purpose. And how was I repaid? How were these men repaid? He clenched his fist and swore under his breath.

Crosshair took out his anger on Hunter. He wasn't planning on saying those hurtful things to him, but once he started, the words wouldn't stop. "She went through what she did because you failed!" he said, more than a small part of him wanting to insert the word I. I went through what I did because you failed...but no. He didn't blame Hunter, not really. That was just his bitter, wounded heart talking.

And then the wyrm came and they fought. Hunter falling through the ice sent a stabbing panic through Crosshair and when he screamed his name it was with the deep fear of losing someone close. But they beat the wyrm. They beat it and they caught their breath and they sat side by side. Crosshair thought in that moment that this was good enough. If his squad never accepted him more than this, a soldier looking out for a fellow soldier, this was enough. In his heart he knew this was a lie. These were his brothers. The only family he had ever known.

Then, Wrecker grabbed them both in a hug so fierce that Crosshair could have cried. He rolled his eyes at Hunter from under Wrecker's arm and Hunter gave him a small smile back. Crosshair knew then that his brothers wanted him, maybe even needed him.

-----

Sitting in the quiet of the ship, Crosshair rested his head in his hands. He slept on and off, waking when he felt Echo sit beside him. "Cross..." Echo trailed off hesitantly. Crosshair turned to face him, rubbing his sleep filled eyes. "Listen, Crosshair, I just wanted to say...it's good to have you back." Crosshair looked at the other man carefully. Echo had clearly been wanting to say this to him. As if it were important to him. Crosshair nodded, embarrassed, not sure what to say in response.

And then Echo placed his arm over Crosshair's shoulder and pulled him close in a warm embrace. Part of Crosshair wanted to resist, to pull back, but he didn't. He didn't want to be pitied. Somehow, he knew Echo didn't mean it as pity. He rested his head on Echo's shoulder, and when Echo moved back slightly, they placed their foreheads together gently. "Brother," Crosshair muttered softly.

For the @summer-of-bad-batch prompt "hugs"

#the bad batch #tbb crosshair #hugs!#tbb wrecker #tbb hunter #tbb echo #the bad batch fanfiction #Crosshair gets two hugs!

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that-guy-sleepy-miles · 1 month

Text

Mid-Blueprint Nap (ft. The Demon Bull King)

I've been thinking about Red King a lot, so here's a ficlet with an accompanying art piece! (Or an art piece with an accompanying ficlet...?) It includes a lot of information about the Red King AU, so I hope you guys enjoy it and are interested in the AU!

Heads up: Red King has a funky little gender! She uses she/her pronouns and male nouns, so if you have problems recognizing which pronouns go to which characters in prose, this might be a little difficult for you to read!

2.5k words

‎

Despite her quick disappearance, Red Son—or, as the Demon Bull King learned, she was now a "Red King"—didn't abandon her family. She'd never been one to do so; his Princess had assured him that such a thing hadn't happened in his absence. (His wife hadn't explained why their boy left in the first place, which gave him the idea that it was a tender subject. He would ask her in detail as soon as they had exacted their revenge and taken this city.)

When he desired more power, the Princess called for the bull clones to get their son and she was instantly at the Flaming Foundry with a solution. She'd brought out the blueprints for the Furnace with an uncharacteristic indifference, and explained how she'd imagined that this would be what he wanted, so years ago she’d come up with an idea years ago.

She’d said something about being unable to make a prototype because she didn’t have his measurements (which made no sense, why hadn’t she just asked her mother…), but she’d updated the ideas whenever she could. (Her specific wording was ‘woke up’, but the Bull King had no clue what she meant by that. She couldn’t have worked on it every morning if she was this disinterested…)

After that, Red King (how odd it was, to think of his son as being a king now; how much he had missed) had built the Furnace, oversaw the bull clones as they fit the armor onto the Bull King, and then explained how the armor worked. Halfway through her explanation, her eyes began to fall closed and her words slowed.

He’d watched her nod off in confusion until his wife struck her fan against the floor and startled Red King awake. They’d shared a look—tense on the Princess’s side and tired on Red King’s—before his wife sighed and his son continued, going on about finding rare items and giving pointers on where to find them in the city. She’d left after that, leaving him to find a shoe store on his own.

Something was happening in his family, and the Bull King was completely on the outside of it.

But, nonetheless, they continued like that: Red King would arrive when needed, providing them with what they asked for, and then depart quickly—it was like she was leaving as soon as possible. Which, frankly, was unacceptable. It was disrespectful and rude, especially to her family! However, it didn’t seem new; his wife, who was normally intolerant to any form or implication of disrespect, let their son blatantly disrespect them without a word.

In fact, she seemed almost grateful for it. She would relax her tense shoulders the second their boy had gone, let out a snide comment about how she was surprised that Red King was still awake or how it must be the little boy’s naptime under her breath, and then return to managing the dig site.

The dig site.

The dig site was the reason that Red King was called here by his mother today.

The Bull King wouldn’t lie, he was getting rather impatient with the slow speed of the excavation of the power source. He could feel the power in his fingertips, but he just couldn’t access it. He was so close, but he had to keep waiting! He had spent hundreds of years waiting, and he wouldn’t STAND for it any longer!

His wife, understanding his plight, called their son. There was no reason to even think about calling anyone else. They needed a machine, and they needed it to be precise so as to not disrupt whatever power was down there; who else would have that done at the same speed their son would?

(She’d arrived only 30 minutes after they sent a bull clone to fetch her. She was never one to be late, but the Bull King was beginning to wonder if she showed up so quickly so that she could leave sooner.)

The Bull King had been on his new throne, chin in hand, brooding, when she arrived. Red King was still in that robe of hers, he’d never seen her in anything different. Not that that was particularly unusual—it was quite like his son to have an article of clothing she liked to wear often—but the more she wore it, the more he began to realize it didn’t look much like a royal robe, and potentially something more for lounging in at home.

She rubbed her eye with the heel of her palm before asking, “You need me, Father?”

He grunted in affirmation, grinding his teeth for a second before he started, “I did not spend an eternity trapped under a mountain to be forced to wait longer! This is taking far too long, and I need you to speed it up.”

She tilted her head minutely to the side as she mulled over his words, and then yawned. Agitation set into his bones at her disrespect, but she quickly amended, “Apologies for that, Father... Consider it done, I’ll have an excavator built by the end of tomorrow.”

She turned to leave, but the growl he let out stopped her. She turned back to him with a confused and cautious glance, “Father?”

“I won’t wait any longer, especially not for you to return. I want work to start the second you’re finished with the drafting. You’re to stay here.”

She frowned deeply, “Father–”

“You are to stay here,” he shut down her protests immediately, slamming out the words “stay here” with utter finality.

She sighed and put her hand to her forehead as if nursing a headache, “As you wish, Father.”

What a rude little boy his son had become. As if he was wasting her time.

‎

Leaned against the wall nearest to her workspace, arms crossed, the Demon Bull King’s anger at his son quickly turned to concern. It was the concern that had been bubbling this entire time, amplified as he watched her work—er, try to work. He was beginning to think she truly did have a headache.

She was on her third blueprint page, frustration clear on her face; she’d crumpled the first one and ripped the other. He watched with unease as she kept beginning to nod off, snapped herself awake, and then spent maybe ten minutes working before she was back to barely conscious. Her pencil skidded across the paper far too often as her hand went lax over and over again, leaving white marks in its wake.

She snapped herself out of another sleeping spell and sighed miserably, a hand on her forehead the only thing keeping her from faceplanting onto the workbench. It was time for him to step in.

The Demon Bull King stopped leaning and walked over to her desk, arms still crossed, “What is the holdup?”

She scrubbed her face before looking up at him, “I can’t focus, Father.”

“Clearly,” he bit out. She scowled at him in return. He sneered back at her, showing sharp teeth.

She didn’t let up her own stare at his visual displeasure, so he lowered and turned his head. A threat display only meant to intimidate her and remind her to be respectful of her father, he’d never even think of hurting her. (He'd kill anyone who injured his precious boy, including himself.)

It seemed they’d entered their first standoff, like the ones she and her mother had, but the Demon Bull King couldn’t explain for the life of him why it was happening.

She sighed heavily—long-suffering and, again, miserable—before she turned back to the blueprints. After a moment's consideration, she began to speak: “I am making an excavator. It’s construction equipment for digging, a human-made design. I’m designing a boom, arm, bucket, and a cab on a rotating superstructure—the undercarriage isn’t necessary. I don’t imagine, we won’t be moving it from the Flaming Foundry, and we’re digging in one spot.”

The Bull King raised an eyebrow. Well, at least she wasn’t half-asleep anymore, and he wasn’t stuck waiting. He prompted her to continue with a nod of the head and a grunt.

She put her cheek in her hand and gestured around the blueprint as she explained, her voice still mostly disinterested, “I can build an excavator easily, but we both know you don’t just want an excavator, Father.” She chuckled minutely at that before continuing, “You want something that looks nice and sleek, but also looks powerful. But… how do I make an excavator look powerful? The arm, boom, and bucket will all be fine, you’ll like those as is, but I need to do something for the cab…”

Her tone concerned him so much in a way he couldn’t explain to anyone who didn’t know her. She was always so talkative and excited when she was a little boy, young and excited about her work—nearing manic. She would've killed to have her father's attention like this when she was getting into engineering…

Red King rubbed her eyes as she continued to prattle on about excavator cabs, noting how she normally wouldn’t struggle with the cab design but nothing was coming to mind. The Demon Bull King was not in the habit of lying, as said before, so he would admit she was entirely correct about him wanting something designed personally, and he did appreciate her care. It was a form of affection, he could tell when she said it, to pay attention to his aesthetics and how he liked his machinery.

Her chin was in her hands now, both elbows on the table. Her voice was slower as she said, “I might look back at old designs I made for you, but all of those blueprints are at mine…”

Now her cheeks were in her hands as her elbows slid forward slowly. Her eyes were slipping closed, and her words became just a bit slurred, “Mmm, i’sh not like I’m incapabul of designing somethin’”—she yawned—“I’m jush… so… tir’d…”

Down, down, down–

He slid a hand under her quickly before her head crashed into the workbench. She used what must be the last dregs of consciousness to bring her arms up to cross on his palm and cushion her face, and then she was dead-to-the-world asleep, snoring immediately. It might be a trick of his mind, but the Bull King was certain she was even slightly heavier in his palm.

Bewilderment overtook him as he stared at his son. They’d just been having a conversation—well, she’d been talking and he’d been listening—and now it was as if she’d been asleep for hours. He was stuck, half-leaned over and waiting for his son to wake, which he was certain wouldn’t happen for a while.

He sat down begrudgingly, ready to stay here until she woke up so that she wouldn’t bash her head against the metal workbench; this wasn’t necessary, but that would be an unfortunate way for his boy to be woken up, and Red King clearly needed this sleep. He huffed in irritation as his eyes traveled the room for a second, but they soon returned to his offspring.

The Demon Bull King realized quickly that he’d been unintentionally denying himself of one of his greatest joys: admiring his child. It was perhaps foolish, but no matter what anything thought of his boy, he still loved her. For years, he’d recanted the details of her birth to anyone who would listen for years and had memorized her zodiac (inner animal, true animal, and secret animal, of course), earthly branch, yin-yang, and element. He couldn’t shut up about his son.

And there was so much to admire, so much that was new. He paid close attention to her now as he cradled her in his palm: her even breaths against his skin, her thigh-length hair—warmed by her magical power as it spread across and fell between his fingers (and it was so warm, his boy was so strong), her cute horns that she'd grown scraping against his palm as she turned her head.

His son is was still little, like all creatures are compared to him, and yet she had gotten so big. So grown.

And she was asleep on his hand like a baby.

‎

The Demon Bull King (again, not a liar) sat there for perhaps hours—he had no idea how long it was, there wasn’t a clock—admiring his boy and listening to her snore. She hadn’t moved an inch other than her body rising and falling with her breathing, completely in deep sleep and giving no indication that she’d wake soon.

“My love?”

The Bull King looked behind him to see his wife, “Yes?”

“It’s been four hours, beloved. Why are you still over here?” Concern colored her voice as she came to his side, a frown on her face. (She was so pretty, even when she was frowning. Or, perhaps, especially when she was frowning. She had such an elegant frown.)

He gestured to the sleeping boy on his palm, “She fell asleep.”

Her concern turned into annoyance quickly as she cast a callous look at their offspring, “Ah. Of course she did.”

“Her inability to stay awake is… concerning.”

The Princess scoffed, “Yes, it seems she’s given herself narcolepsy. What could possibly be so upsetting that she’d rather sleep for the rest of her life instead of having a conversation with her own mother, I couldn’t tell you. Did you even know we’re in her territory?”

The Bull King’s eyebrows raised, “Are we now?”

“Yes! The entire city is hers, but she refuses to take control of it!” His wife was exasperated, rolling her eyes as she continued, “She’ll barely even help her family take over her city! She’d rather sleep all day in that dreaded cave of hers—oh, well that’s not true.”—she checked her nails—“It’s a lovely cave, my love. You’d love the architecture, she put a lot of thought into it. It’s the last thing she’s put thought into for the last 500 years.”

The Bull King hummed deeply, his unease mounting.

“I can’t believe her sometimes! She doesn’t even send letters anymore! She doesn’t send letters, she comes without gifts, leaves before tea– How disrespectful can one get?” It seemed that he was not the only one offended by his son’s behavior, at least. But the Princess refused to comment on it in their son’s presence…

Why?

What questions did he need to ask to get to the bottom of this? Could he just ask his wife, “What happened?” Would that get more answers that explained everything but the core of the issue?

“If I didn’t visit her, she’d only wake up to eat every few months. Oh, and on that! She’s abandoned her diet! Not that I care about her diet, and we’ve all eaten people before, but it’s just another thing that she’s neglecting.”

“My love,” The Bull King sat up straight and eased Red King down onto the workbench with gentle fingers, “I think it’s time for us to turn in as well.”

His wife sighed and nodded, “It is getting late.”

They left the Red King to sleep.

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hazashiovo · 9 months

Note

A part 2 for Imagine loving Aemond and when you find out he loves another you leave the castle? 🙏🏼😭

Second part of Aemond loving another!

Aemond Targaryen x (dead)reader

Angst🥲

Once the sun rises the sky in the morning,Caraxes lands in kings landing with his owner holding your dead lifeless body.

This happened right after the battle. The Black's won this fight so he took the liberty to bring you back to king's landing himself.

Blood soaking your torso trough your armor, dirty hair and bruised body,must be a sight for the Greens. It's a shame ,he never wanted you to die in this war,the most undeserving of this and as he would say. But the fate considered other wise,and if it was your wish to die a warrior than so be it.

His dragon lands right in front of the castle ,making a grand entrance for all the folks in kings landing,he's pretty sure some guards have shit their pants.

Daemon gets down of his dragon,you in his arms. The people around him were quiet,dead quiet, staring at the girl's lifeless body. He walks straight to entry,no guard daring to try to stop him when Caraxes was ready to flame them up and roast them nicely. He smiled at that taught.

The way he was walking trough the castle like it was his was amusing,no word was said to him.

The throne room door opens , a scared guard making place for the Rogue prince.

And there he is ,Daemon entering. In all his glory ,but not alone.

Their eyes lie on you. Alicent pushed by the council, hurrying to your side. A heartbroken expression on her face,she just lost her child...her precious little girl. Daemon just watched. He couldn't really hear what Alicent was saying trough sobs .

He lied you down slowly,looking around the room. Aemond wasn't there. Neither was Aegon.

"This is on you. You started this Alicent." He looked down on her,she didn't even bother looking up. Your higher body now laid in her lap as she ran her hand trough your dirty and short hair. How could she allow this to happen? Why did you leave her ? Those were the most frequent phrases that roamed in her mind.

"Do you have a death wish Daemon?" Daemon's eyes meet Otto's. The old man looked like he was about to jump him. Daemon only chuckled.

"I don't,but she did."he looks at Otto amused, he could kill the man so easily.

Otto doesn't soften his gaze ,only glaring at the prince. The words just passing by Otto.

Only then the queen regent turned her eyes to Daemon. Pure hatred adorned her sad eyes.

"Don't you dare speak of my daughter like that!" Her voice laced with grimace,teary eyes shooting daggers at the prince.

Daemon decided that he no longer found interest in this place and took his leave. "She may have died at my hand,but you were the reason she gave her life away." And with that he took his leave. Minutes later Caraxes flew away from king's landing, returning to dragon stone.

Otto ordered the guards to take you away,but Alicent just wouldn't have it. She refused to leave your side. She refused to believe you truly were gone...her baby,her love...

Her father tried talking with her ,to leave the masters clean you,but she just wouldn't budge.

The door opens once again,Aemond entering trough it.

He saw Caraxes leave , the prince first taught that his uncle was there to cause trouble,but once he saw your dead body in your poor mother's lap...he didn't know how to react. How did this happen?

He's gonna kill his uncle for this. Aemond took slow steps to your side,unable to actually process this is you.

You looked so different than the last time he saw you.

"H-how did this happen?"are the first words he says ,voice caught in his throat as he kneels next to you. Reluctantly,a hand caressed your face. So cold,he taught, you used to be so warm and full of life,now only a shell of who you were lies in front of him.

He can't cry,not a tear. Aemond is barely even processing his sister is dead,all he thinks about is how he wants to murder his uncle for what he had done, no thinking for even a second that this... situation is his fault. No,it's his uncle's fault. He murdered you in cold blood on the battlefield.

Alicent remains quiet,the sorrow in her heart heavy as a Boulder.

"If it wasn't for your whore,she would still be alive." Otto breaks the silence, rubbing his hands on his temples. "Do not bring her in any of this!" Aemonds angry voice barked back,turning his gaze to his grandfather as he gets up , standing straight in front of him.

"Stupid child,do you even think before you act? You abandoned your wife for a bastard. Simple as that." He sighs,looking tired of all of this. His eyes fall on his daughter, she stoped crying , remaining at your side.

"Not only did you start this war,you also killed your sister." Otto spoke as he left the throne room,leaving just the two and the body of his former wife and sister.

His eyes fall to his mother,she looks broken. Aemond clenched his jaw,was this really all on him? Was he the reason his sister no longer breaths?

Short time passed, and today was the day Aemond will see for the last time his dear sister. His wife.

Your body lies on the cold stone, dressed in a beautiful dress, of a color you used to love, your hair is cleaner ,and no more wounds are visible on your body.

You look like an angel,was what your mother whispered to you before she left the stone you lie on.

Aemond calls out to his dragon,to Vhagar.

"I am so sorry for all the sorrow I caused you,my love" his hands cup your face,as he plants one last kiss on your could lips. "Rest now,you fought well. I will avange you."

Your brother backs away.

"Dracarys! Vhagar. " He shouts at the old war dragon,and with that your body is engulfed in flames. A proper Targaryen funeral.

Aemond doesn't waste any more time to returning to the castle,the sight of you like this makes him feel guilty.

Once he returns to his room,he sees Alys sitting on his bed, belly heavy.

He doesn't know what to say to her. The prince fils the cup with wine,hoping to ease his mind.

Hand gently hug his waist,her head leans on his shoulder. "It's going to be okay. I'm here." Her voice isn't like yours,no, it's so different than yours... He brings the cup to his lips drinking half of it.

"It's not going to be okay ,Alys. It's not."he pushes himself out of her hug. She doesn't have the same touch at you.

Aemond sits down on the couch,looking at the burning flames of the fire. He takes another of his wine.

If he could turn back the time...he would have you by his side now. How could he just let you go? Stupid boy,just like his grandfather said.

He brought his mother pain...why would he ever do that? Aemond takes another,and another drink of the cup, until the bottle of wine is now only half full.

Alys lays her hands on his shoulders, massaging them softly.

"She's gone, Aemond." He winces at those words, griping the cup tightly. "But I am right here. I am here for you, because you brought me here." The woman whispers in his ear,one hand playing with his white straight hair. He was a mess.

"I don't want you.."his voice speaks quietly,a bit slurry. The wine seeming to fuel him. "I want her ,and she's gone." The widowed man runs a hand trough his hair,taking out the hair and letting it lose. His hair cups his face perfectly,in the light of the fire.

Alys clicks her tongue anoyed with his answer,leaving his side and moving to the window. He didn't look at her ,he was staring at the fire. It reminded him so much of you.

The fire burns like it used to burn in your heart,with that desire for everything. A drop of something wet fell on his hand that was laying in his lap. Was he...crying? And so with that came more. She just watched as he crumbled.

He missed your passion,your love for him... Gods he missed it all.

How could he let you leave ? How could he betray you like that?

From the corner of his eye ,he sees Alys. The moonlight shining on her face. "Get out." He manages to order.

Without any words spoken, Alys leaves his chambers.

Once she's gone, he crumbles , realization finaly hitting him.

It wasn't Daemon who killed you. It was him,he was the one who pushed you to your death.

finally done with this one. Hope you like it 💋💋

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