#That was when he still RESPECTED the man!

[rosiewitchescottage]

OK. Let me give you a conservative leaning, not Radfem woman take on this.

First of all. Men are not women's enemies, simply for being men. And not every trans woman is either.

BUT denying the basic fact that Woman = Female, Man = Male leads to nowhere good.

And nor does Self ID. This is nothing to do with denying anyone's rights.

A man can be as feminine or androgynous as he sees fit, and he's still a man, simply by being male.

A woman can be as masculine or androgynous as she she's fit, and she's still a woman, simply by being female.

A male/female living AS a woman/man needs a solid, objective reason for doing so.

Otherwise, how do we protect women's rights and make sure that as many trans women as possible are in women's spaces, because they need to be, and not because they are predatory men taking advantage of a too lax system.

(And yes it does happen. Numbers don't matter, once is already too often. It's not the fault of all trans women, no, but it shouldn't be brushed aside like it's inconvenient either.)

Woman = Female. Therefore a male living as a woman needs to be looking and sounding as close to female as she can.

Plus, respect needs to go both ways or we're going to get nowhere.

I'm brought to mind of a video with a trans woman, she looks and sounds female.

On that alone, I'd have had no issue sharing space with her.

But then she ruins it all by stating that she still has all the strength of a biological male and will use it against any woman challenging her in women's spaces.

That is NOT going to win any respect. All it's going to do is make women more convinced of her being a threat. And why not, when she's told us that she is.

I'd not want to share a space with that trans woman now, having heard her say that.

Then there are trans women who, Leah Thomas being a prime example, come into women's spaces and strip naked, male genitalia on full display.

Any woman knows that we tend to be discreet, even amongst each other, a towel around the waist is usual before getting naked below the waist.

A trans woman doing likewise simply blends in. Who's going to know if she still has male genitalia or not?

But boldly showing male genitalia in a women's space shows zero respect.

Many women, and most especially young girls don't want to see male genitalia displayed in our single sex spaces.

That isn't too much to ask for.

No one can change sex. This is just a fact.

A male can use medication and surgery to 'feminise her body' so as to blend in whilst living as a woman.

A female can 'masculine his body' so as to blend in whilst living as a man.

A trans woman remains male

A trans man remains female.

Biological Sex involves the entire body system, down to the level of our very cells.

You can't alter that, only the appearance of genitalia and secondary sex characteristics.

I don't object to sharing space with trans women, provided that they look and sound close to female as possible, and are also properly respectful of women's and girls need to have our safety and dignity preserved, in the spaces created for that very purpose.

garden variety conservative transphobia is going to get worse but radical feminism is also going to get worse. if youre a cis women terfs are going to try to recruit you and make you believe that the reason your rights are at stake is because of trans people. they're going to tell you that all men are your violent oppressors and they're going to include trans women in that category. they're gonna tell you about women who are gender traitors and joined the enemy and they're going to point to trans men. don't believe them. trans people are not your enemy, we have no power over you, and we desperately need your support and your solidarity.

be aware of radfem pipelines and dog whistles too. be skeptical of anyone that talks about the divine feminine or correlates birthing, menstruating, or female reproductive organs with womanhood. be especially skeptical of people who use those biological things as reasons to why women are more spiritual, or more in tune with nature, or just that they're better than men (read: anyone they decide is a man)

radical feminism is an expected reactionary outcome from cis women who are being oppressed by conservatives, especially when all they practice is ciscentric, liberal, white feminism. they feel the need to be radicalized but don't have the experience and information to pinpoint the true source of their suffering. trans people are not your enemy, AMAB people are not your enemy, anyone who identifies as a man is not your enemy. we're all being crushed under the same stone

[gdn7-dollopole]

There’s something so sweet about this scene. Not only Arthur is surrounded by his knights, his friends, he still can’t seem to forget there’s someone missing.

And the way he approaches Merlin is nothing funny or sarcastic: it’s pure concern, it’s love, it’s respect.

Merlin admits he’s scared, without thinking about it twice, because yes, this is Arthur, the same man who makes fun of me on a daily, but he’s also my best friend, the man I love, and who I could lose, but I can’t tell him, but, oh God, if he needs to know I don’t want him to die. I’m the most powerful warlock on earth, yet I’m scared of Morgana, because she wants to kill Arthur, and I’m weak when it comes to him, I’m scared I won’t be able to protect him as I should (especially since Merlin has heard the prophecy that spoke of Arthur’s bane).

I like Arthur’s stunned face. Merlin is referring to his life. “You don’t care you could die?” And not only Arthur is shocked by it, because he thought Merlin knew his reasonings by now, knew that Arthur would never risk losing his knights, losing Merlin. But Arthur doesn’t care as long as his men are safe, as long as Merlin’s safe (because, let’s be honest, this conversation is nothing but a way for them to tell each other how they feel towards one another, without exposing themselves to the danger of this revelation). And Arthur needs to make something clear:

“Only about you.” Because Arthur brings Merlin everywhere like he’s a solider, a warrior, someone who knows how to fight with a sword, who’s an asset to Camelot and the kingdom itself, so he considers him an equal, someone he can sit with on a lower step and chat with about his fears, because he can be vulnerable with Merlin. Arthur knows he’s safe with him.

Arthur includes Merlin in his speech, and this is something that could mean, “Oh, so Merlin isn’t a friend, isn’t a brother, he’s so much more.” This scene is so impactful, because it’s one of those rare moments where Arthur shows how deeply he can love, how much risk he’s willing to take to bring peace to his kingdom and to his people: to the ones he loves.

And he knows his knights, he knows Merlin won’t abandon him, because he has never done it, and Arthur truly believes Merlin has no reason to do it now, even if he’s scared. It’s as if Arthur is asking, just to make sure, just to have the confirmation that they think the same of it.

And they do:

I wish I didn’t understand how much I’m willing to risk, and have already risked for you. Because this is why I’m here: for you and only for you.

The self deprecating smile, because Merlin can’t back down, he never will. He’s so frightened, yet not even the prospect of battling against Morgana and her army will make him run.

He has Arthur to protect.

The way he smiles, it’s as if he’s saying, “Why didn’t I understand this sooner? Arthur’s just like me.” But it’s the fact that they told each other this, they know now, after ten years, that they’re willing to do anything and more for the other to stay safe, to be alive, even if one of them isn’t.

Merlin tells Arthur. He watches him intensely, because Arthur needs to understand. He’s honest.

Arthur gets it, and he’s finally happy. He’s relieved that Merlin won’t abandon him, that he will stay by his side, like he always is, protecting him, fighting with him, and helping him.

Arthur smiles at Merlin like he’s seeing him for the first time, and he falls in love with him just that tad bit more.

[empprentiss]

I LOVE YOU, ALWAYS FOREVER

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

cw: mentions of pregnancy/childbirth, no use of Y/N, just pure fluff and love

a/n: I’ve caught the writing bug again! after so long not writing anything, I now can’t seem to stop. anyway, please enjoy this short fic of aaron just being absolutely smitten with his girls <3

word count: 1.2k

You hadn’t thought it was possible to love him more.

From the moment he’d first asked you on a date - uncharacteristically timid, stumbling over his words, so unlike the fearless leader you’d come to idolise and respect since joining the team all those years ago - he’d treated you as if you’d hung the stars in the sky yourself.

He wasn’t overly affectionate in public, but you didn’t mind. You were well aware that he had an image to uphold. When you were alone, however, he showered you with affection. It was overwhelming at first, and you’d felt undeserving, not used to being in a relationship with someone that adored you, that loved you completely, that respected you all the more. But as time wore on, you’d become accustomed to these little romantic gestures that, even now, had your cheeks tinting a light pink, butterflies forming in your stomach, and a smile that you tried (and failed) to suppress tugging at your lips.

On the nights where you were apart, back when you were still living in your own apartment, he formed small, affectionate habits. He’d send a text to check you were home safe, following a date or a long day at the office. He’d have flowers delivered regularly, bright bouquets waiting on your doorstep when you returned home from a gruelling case, always accompanied by the sweetest, handwritten note (you had a shoebox full of them tucked away in your closet, a physical reminder of his love for you). He’d call you as you settled into bed, his voice gentle over the phone as he was wished you sweet dreams, told you how much he missed you, how he couldn’t wait to see you again.

When you moved in with him, just a few short months before he proposed, his gestures changed in tandem with your relationship. If he had to be at the office early, you’d wake to a note left atop his pillow, hastily written messages of love and adoration ensuring a beautiful start to your day. After a particularly difficult case, he’d usher you into the bathroom the moment you got home. He’d run you a bath, help you ease into the water, and disappear into the kitchen to cook you one of your favourite meals while you allowed the hot water and bubbles to melt away your troubles.

On your wedding day, he’d allowed himself to be less reserved. The moment he saw you, as you began your descent down the aisle, he was consumed by emotions, his beautiful eyes shining with unshed tears. He’d leaned into you as you took his hand, matching smiles on your faces, and whispered sweet nothings into your ear, telling you just how beautiful he thought you’d looked. He seemed unable to resist touching you after that initial contact. At any given moment, his hand was pressed to the small of your back, or his fingers were intertwined with your own, or his lips were pressing tender kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your lips. Though he kept reminding you of his love for you throughout the day, whispering it into your skin, you could feel it through those small gestures, too.

He held you close to him as you danced together for the first time as man and wife. His eyes were on you the entire time as the pair of you moved effortlessly around the dance floor, surrounded by your loved ones, his ever present smile unwavering. During his speech, you’d cried tears of happiness, so overwhelmed by the life he’d given you, the joy he made you feel every day.

He loved you wholly, and you didn’t think you could love him more.

That was, until the first time you saw him hold your daughter.

It had been gruelling, the birth. Long. Tiring. Aaron had been by your side constantly. He held your hand, wiped the sweat from your brow, and told you over and over how proud he was of you.

And the smile that had consumed him, all teeth and dimples as your daughter had come kicking and screaming into the world, left you breathless.

He was smitten from the moment he laid eyes on her. Had waited for your subtle nod of assent before he left your side to be with her while the nurses weighed her and cleaned her up, unable to take his eyes off of her for a moment. When she was placed in your arms for the first time, he’d wrapped his arms around the two of you as a choked noise left you, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. And although you weren’t alone in the room, midwife and nurses alike still floating around, it felt as though the world had shrunk to just the three of you - husband, wife, child.

He whispered against your cheek how perfect, how beautiful she was. Just like her mother. You’d scoffed then, partly because you’d always been unable to accept a compliment, mostly because you were certain you were anything but beautiful in that moment. Your hair most definitely resembled a birds nest, your lips were chapped and dry, and the sweat had dried uncomfortable onto your skin. But as you’d looked up at him and found his gaze settled on you for the briefest of moments before he’d leant forward to press a gentle, loving kiss to your lips, you thought perhaps he’d truly meant it.

Aaron didn’t hold the baby - Ivy, you’d settled on fairly quickly - until the three of you were finally alone. Though he’d refused to stray far, he knew how important those initial moments of bonding were between you and your tiny speck of a baby, so had refrained for as long as possible. But after a while, you’d looked over at where he stood towered over your bed, eyes roving over the baby as if trying to memorise every tiny detail of her little body. When you’d finally caught his eye, you’d tilted your head in a silent invitation that he join the two of you on the bed, a small laugh bubbling out of you at how quickly he shuffled in beside you. The baby was transferred into his awaiting arms, and as you curled yourself into his side as best as you could, you felt your breath catch in your throat at the sight of them.

Ivy, who was already a little small for her age, appeared even more so as she nestled into her father’s chest. The palm of one of his hands encompassed her back, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against her through the blanket she was wrapped up in. The baby had grizzled as she’d been moved from her mother’s arms to her father’s. But as Aaron whispered into her ear how much he already loved her - something he’d done to you countless times over the years - she settled, as if she knew she was safe. Protected by the first man to ever love her.

And as the three of you rested in comfortable silence, you felt it again.

That love for him, a love that already felt all encompassing, growing even more.

[northwest-cryptid]

So I realize that a lot of people might take this response in bad faith, and while I don't have a catch-all answer to the problem. I do want to state a few things I've seen and that I fear we in the left are chronically bad about. I genuinely hope that people won't view this as some ignorant idiot running their mouth; and rather as someone who's looking to help, because what I'm going to ask of you sounds a little accusatory.

A big thing is that you have to stop with the generalization. I've heard people say "but they do it" and "but it IS most of them" and such. I get it, I get it but you can't say "Cis, Straight, White Men are bad" and then expect the good Cis, Straight, White Men to still stand up for you. I've always been told "but the good ones won't care!" Yes, they will.

I was once told by a Rightwinger on a forum that "the Left are a powerful force in converting people to be conservative." When I asked him about what he meant exactly; he explained (with the use of far too many slurs and insults I'll be omitting) that essentially when otherwise Left-Leaning individuals see the way Leftists talk about them or people like them, it's very easy for Rightwingers to sweep in and basically say "we're not going to judge you like that." Of course they hide the fact they will judge you in other ways, but for that moment; they are a beacon of shelter from the otherwise very loud mob of Leftists who would deem you literally the most inherently bad person for being... a cis man.

Am I saying you have to go out there and start forgiving every bigot, humoring every fuckboy; stop holding sexists accountable for their bullshit? Absolutely not. In fact, what I'm asking you to do is stop firing a shotgun at a target that can only be hit properly with a sniper rifle. I'm asking you to stop giving the bad actors a scapegoat. I'm asking you to be specific.

If you take a young man, who doesn't have any concept of things like gender identity, the patriarchy, homophobia, etc. You take that young man and you look him in the eyes and you tell him:

"Men are a disgusting and violent gender, men do not deserve respect. The only good man is a fictional man. All men deserve to be treated poorly, women shouldn't have to put up with men. Cis men are the worst. Straight Cis Men should go to hell."

He's going to become a conservative rightwinger, because at least they won't hate him for being a man. They'll just hate him for being the wrong kind of man. It's easier for that man to seek acceptance through forcing others to be below him, than for him to accept that he is inherently a problem. If you instead literally word it as:

"Sexists and bigots, who would view women as nothing more than objects are disgusting. Anyone who would look down on, and see someone as lesser because of their race, gender identity, or sexuality does not deserve respect."

Well now he's not a target. Because he doesn't see women that way, he doesn't have racist thoughts; he's not currently a bad person and you're not talking about him. Now I know that a lot of people say "but I'm NOT talking about people like that!" I know that, you know that; you know who doesn't know that? The young man who's reading your posts, the young man who hears you at the store, the young man who read your forum response 3 months ago. What they see, plain as day is "men are a problem" and they're going to seek shelter from that.

Unfortunately for everyone involved; the shelter they end up finding so many times is conservative rightwingers. There are tons of people you can hear talk about this on youtube and forums, people who got indoctrinated because they would rather be praised for being a man than hated for it.

Now you might not talk this way, a lot of people don't; but a lot of other people DO. I see a lot of "the only good man is a trans man" or "the only good man is a fictional man" type posts, and even if you want to say it's just a meme or it's all a joke. You need to understand that when you speak generally, a man, especially a young man is going to see that and react to it. It's going to shape their idea of how the Left, who you represent to them whether you want to or not; see them.

If a young man who currently is unaligned on either side of the political spectrum sees a bunch of gay and trans people shitting on men for simply "being men" and not for the patriarchy, not for the sexism, not for male privilege and all that. Not actually educating anyone, not speaking out about the injustice; not discussing toxic masculinity or anything that may even shine a light on the issues people face. Just saying "men suck" and leaving it at that. Only to then see a bunch of Rightwingers saying all those gays and trans people are stupid and they are bad people and they hate men for no reason. That young man is going to make a no-effort decision in that moment to side with the people who do not openly hate him.

It's genuinely that easy for someone to become indoctrinated. Once they're in, they're rewarded for thinking less, promoting the ideals that promise them a higher spot on the social ladder; and generally following the mentality that Leftists are bad, and Rightwingers are good. They keep digging themselves into that hole trying to find a place they belong, somewhere they won't be hated; somewhere they don't need to feel guilty and wrong for just being who they are. Until they learn that the Right also thinks they're bad and wrong, they're a "beta" because they haven't fucked someone yet, they're a "soyboy" if they're not benching 200 pounds, making six figures, and banging a new girl each week. So now the urge for acceptance has shifted. Being a man means nothing if you're not "the right kind of man" if you're not an alpha, if you're not a sigma male then you're not good enough.

Go figure now they start viewing women as objects. That's not a woman, that's a ticket to not being a beta virgin anymore. She can be bought, she can be manipulated because he's an "alpha" he has money, he has control; he's a man. He's been taught all of this, he's been taught that "bitches don't matter." He's been told that working out and having money can get him any woman he wants. He's been taught women are dumb, that they're materialistic; that they don't matter outside of being a quick fuck. If someone tells him off, or doesn't like him it's because "she's a crazy bitch." I was once told "men don't have friends, men have competition." This is how they're taught.

So now you approach this man in some attempt to help him understand the faults in his ways. The problem is he's been convinced for the last so many odd years that by simply being a Leftist, or by being gay, or by being trans; you're wrong. Before a single word leaves you mouth. Because "all Leftists are special snowflakes who just get triggered by everything." Which unfortunately the internet has "proved" to him because of those videos of gay people screaming at cameras, or posts that generalize all straight/white/cis men to be bad people.

Again, this isn't some catch all solution. It's not going instantly turn the tide or something, but you have to stop using general terms. Be specific; don't say "men" say "Sexists" if what you mean is "sexist men" then say "sexist men." Because when you just say "men" you do imply "all men, including you; the man reading this." Whether that's what you mean or not. I don't believe that men are inherently born with a want for things like sexism and racism. I really don't believe men are some inherent evil born with bad intentions. I believe it's a combination of the way the popular culture tells them they should be something great; and the way the Left tell them they're a horrible person for how they were born. That's a fast track for becoming a "Crypto Hitler."

I cannot tell you how many genuine conversations I've been able to have with Rightwingers, where I've been able to sort of get them to see my side of things even just a little. Because I didn't point a finger at larger audiences. I was talking to a man on a forum just a few days ago about the inherent issue of sexism in an abortion ban. I made sure to use the word "sexists" and the word "men" as separate entities. When I was discussing how men have bodily autonomy that women don't, I would say just that; when I mentioned that sexists want to control a woman's body I would also say just that. He still mentioned several times "Well I never said I wanted to do that." To which I had to point out to him that I never said he did, I said Sexists did; so if he wasn't in fact Sexist then the shoe doesn't fit.

My goal in all of that was to absolve him of blame; but only so long as he didn't fit the bill for the sort of people who deserved the blame. I let him see it as a matter of simple fact. No different than saying "if you didn't shoot this man then you're not the murderer." I didn't say "everyone with a gun shot this man and therefore everyone with a gun, including you; is in fact the murderer." Because doing so would cause nothing but argument. Rather I treated the whole thing as though he couldn't have possibly been at fault right? By the end of it he came out of it saying that abortion still goes against his religious beliefs; but that he can understand how it's specifically a women's issue; and how there should be further discussion about the effects of abortion as a treatment that could potentially save lives. Crazy how that works right? I got a Rightwinger to admit that hey, abortion isn't an issue men should be speaking on. All because I ensured that he didn't feel as though I was pointing a finger specifically at HIM as a man, for being the problem; and instead let him come to the conclusion of whether or not he specifically fit the mold of a "sexist" or a "man." He told me that I was a lot smarter than "those autistic leftists" but he never knew I in fact am an autistic Leftist. That's literally just because in his mind he knows what an "Autistic Leftist" is, what they will say; how they will act, how they'll react. By not being that stereotype; he couldn't just label me some buzzword and write off what I was saying. In his eyes I was a man with a wife and was merely concerned over the safety of our wives and daughters.

Sometimes that's what it takes to make someone see things your way, if I explained to him that I'm a pansexual genderfluid individual who never intends to have children and just believes women should have the right to bodily autonomy for the sake of bodily autonomy the same as cis men have; well he'd probably write me off immediately.

I'm not saying you have you hide who you are, I'm not saying you have to appeal to their bigoted whims and humor their insults. However I am saying that you need to conduct yourself in a way that's going to show young men that you care about them too. That even the young cis white straight men have a place in a Leftist society; that they won't be hated for simply being true to themselves, how they identity; and how they love. That what we want is equality for everyone; and specifically what rights they have for simply being those things, that the rest of us don't for simply being who and what we are.

tl;dr We can save a lot of young men from becoming Crypto Hitlers if we actually stop talking about men in general like they're already Crypto Hitlers.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[hopefulidiocy]

Perfect

Prince!Aemond x Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, HARD LABOUR, BLOOD, SLIGHT SLIGHT SMUT IF YOU SQUINT

A/N this is filler whilst I’m away

~

The baby pulled on your back as you waddled through the Gardens of the Red Keep, listening to the birds swimming through the air with their happy tunes; which was a complete contrast to how you were feeling. You knew your ultimate goal was to give your husband a baby, you knew that you had only married each other for the financial gain to give at least one male heir that can be in the line for the throne. Your family owned most of the North, all being Lords and Ladies and owning the biggest castles and palaces. Something King Viserys couldn’t let go. You had wondered, often, why you were the chosen one and not your sister, who was Aemond’s exact age. You were two years younger than him.

Your pregnant belly served as a reminder of who you were to the Keep, Queen Alicent came in every evening after supper to check on you but not to see how you were, to see how her grandchild was. She would constantly refer to the baby as a he and it would further enforce a worry that was so overwhelming you were often worried that your own baby might die before you get to meet them. If this baby wasn’t a boy, she didn’t know what she would do, she would be a failure and Aemond would probably take on another wife; but it won’t be his own decision, it’ll be his mothers. In the last three years you had been married, you broke all rules and fell in love. Aemond treated you like a precious jewel despite being cold hearted and strong headed, he would demand respect for you when you were unable to demand it for yourself. He was the one who stuck up for you when his mother had a doctor check that you could bear children as it was expected to be pregnant within a year of marriage. But you and Aemond made the secret decision to wait to try for a child, your sex had been as protected as it could be and it was still just as amazing. Sometimes, though, you wondered whether Aemond would be unhappy at the birth of a daughter. You hoped he wouldn’t be but you already had a happy marriage unlike most of the world; it would be tedious to hope for a man that would be happy at the birth of a girl. Somewhere inside of you, you harboured that childish wish, hidden and deep.

“Princess Y/N.” Helaena was by one of the stone arches, leaning against it with a spider in her hands. She didn’t look up when you approached her. “He’s unhappy.”

“Who is?” Helaena had always been a little weird, always playing with her insects and you hated to admit that you kept a distance because she always seemed to be staring. However, as you were around, you both warmed to each other to a nice conversation in the Keep hallways.

“My spider.” She pouted, opening her palm to big, spindly, black thing that made you shiver and step back. “Got a broken leg.” She pointed to one of the front legs which was wonky and stopped him from walking normally across her palms.

“Ah, I’m sorry.” You didn’t know what else to say until a small, sudden dull ache shot across your body. It wasn’t pain enough for you to groan or shout, just a quick wince and a palm on your stomach was enough. You stroked it up and down, feeling your stretched skin and the hardness of your baby curled up. Suddenly, Helaena reached out and placed her milky hand on your belly, a smile stretching across her lips. “What is it?”

“You’re going to be so happy.” She whispered, almost to herself, she removed her hand and disappeared down the hallway without a goodbye. Your back began to pulse, it usually did this if you walked around too much, the baby was almost ready so it wasn’t a surprise that your body began to shatter away after a ten minute walk.

~

Two guards posted outside of your chambers highlighted that Aemond was behind them, your heart still pitched whenever you were around him and you wished that blissful feeling would never end. The guards nodded at your arrival, opening the doors and revealing your grand, dark oak decorated chambers with high ceilings that depict your House and the Targaryen House. That familiar smell of polished leather wafted from the open balcony doors, the white silk rippling in the breeze. You waddled towards the doors, seeing the back of your husband leaning his hands on the iron fence.

“Aemond?” You questioned, walking out but before you got to his side he turned around. Without a word, he smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist and even though hugging these days was much harder; he always made it work.

“Y/N.” He breathed, kissing your cheek and his arms still clasped around your waist. You looked up at your beautiful husband with one eye, your hands softly resting on his forearms. “Are you okay? You’re looking flushed.” He hand cupped your cheek, stroking it softly before planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

“I should really stop going on these walks, Aemond. They’re causing havoc with my back.” You rubbed at your lower spine which was twisting in pain. He hummed in response, his eye looking over you in worry. “What’s that look for?” You questioned.

“I want a doctor to see you.” He said, removing his arms and placing his wide palms on your stomach; a feeling you absolutely loved.

“No, I don’t want a doctor. It’ll be the same one your mother had. I’m happy with my midwives, they’ll take good care of me, Aemond. I promise. You need to stop worrying.” You cupped his face, stepping on your tiptoes and kissing his soft lips.

“Baby, I know you don’t like him but do this for me? Just to keep my mind rested?” He questioned, playing with your hair net that kept your long hair in check. You groaned, leaning your forehead against his chest.

“Fine but make him bring a tonic for my back, okay?” You shifted back and walked towards your four postered bed, climbing on it on all fours before you melted into the soft pillows and silk sheets; your back instantly mended.

~

You must’ve slept for around forty minutes because a dull pain thundered in your back, you whined as your eyes pulled open to see Aemond and the doctor just arriving. The doctor was a stout, round little man with a face like a smacked ass most of the time and probably thinking that he didn’t want to be anywhere near a pregnant woman and was best at mending wounds on the battleground; you thought the same.

“Help her up for me.” He demanded, Aemond wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her gently to a sitting up position but you were too busy groaning with the twisting pain in your back. “Legs spread.” He clicked his fingers at you, as he opened his toolbox of very scary and sharp items that made your legs shudder.

“Is he going to use them on me?” You asked Aemond, who was now sat by your side, he shook his head but his face was lined with worry. The doctor struck his hand between your legs, making you hiss, the pain suddenly there than in your back. He grunted to himself as his fingers roamed around, you twisted around to fight the embarrassment of this moment in front of your husband.

“Damn you, Doctor. What is it?” Aemond basically shouted, shocking you.

“It’s time.” He said nonchalantly, shrugging and packing up his toolbox. “Get your servants to fetch the midwives.”

“I’ll have your fucking head for that attitude! This is my fucking wife, who you have just said, is in labour! She’s giving birth weeks before she has to! And you just say ‘it’s time’!?” Aemond was towering over the doctor now, as you wept into the back of your hand. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. You hadn’t prepared for the actual birth yet and you certainly hadn’t taken the tonics made for a healthy birth, you hadn’t offered anything to the gods because you simply weren’t to give birth yet. You would’ve done all of this next week, it was next week’s plan and then the week after would be your birth.

“Aemond!” You shouted, he came right to your side. “Please, please just get my midwives.” He was gone in an instant.

~

You were flat on your back within twenty minutes, your dress completely vanished and you left in your underclothes as your legs spread, your feet dangling in the air as two midwives hold them aloft, your forehead drenched in your salty sweat and cold water as Alicent kept soaking your head in some cold water tonic. Your stomach groaned, your organs shifted as you screamed; your spine splitting vertebrae by vertebrae just to make you suffer for longer. The head midwife was between your legs, checking your dilation but at this point, you had no idea what was going on. Your lower back sawed in half and the feeling went trembling through your legs, hitting at every nerve as fat tears began to soak your cheeks.

“There is no movement.” One midwife whispered to the Queen, you looked to your left to watch the conversation with blurry eyes, your face growing hot and the sweat perking up on the crown of your head. Alicent looked tense for a simple moment before turning to you, with a soft smile on her lips.

“What’s happening?” You whispered, your voice raw as she shushed you like mother, stroking your hairline as she wet your head once again. Little did you know, the midwives were readying to have the doctor cut you open with one of his sharp knives. Alicent kept stroking your head as the pain awoke inside of you, your uterus feeling split open by the muscle contractions.

Outside in the hallway, Aemond waited with King Viserys and his brothers; picking at the tips of his nails as he leaned nervously on the wall. The sounds of your screams echoed throughout the hallway, creating a cold film across Aemond’s skin as his mind couldn’t rest from not being in that room and by your side. He should be the one to wet your head and hold your hand, he was the father after all. But this was how it was done.

“Are you excited to fuck her again?” Aegon smirked, his short brother was opposite him with his disgusting piglike face. Viserys audibly scoffed and rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything. He never said anything when the boys would say some horrible shit to each other. Aemond looked at his brother with disgust.

“Shut up, Aegon.” He wouldn’t lose his temper, not today of all days. He would beat the shit out of him at the next military training day. He would show him, again, that he was the stronger brother.

“She’ll be fat though. You alright with fucking a fat woman?” In a flash, Aegon was up against the wall with Aemond’s forearm hard across his next, pushing harder and harder.

“Don’t ever talk about my wife again. Never again should she come out of your mouth unless you don’t want your tongue. I can rip your tongue out with my bare hands.” Aemond hissed, spitting in his face before a familiar sound screeched through the hallways.

Back in the room, you were squirming with pain and your poor back was now completely snapped from the lightning that kept shooting through your body. You knew that the baby wasn’t moving, you were crying with fear of delivering a dead baby, of failing the one thing your body was made to do. Your back arched towards the ceiling as your nerves ignited and your hands growing numb from the pain that bounced off every bone in your body. You felt yourself begin to slip away, your eyelids heavy and your jaw slacking to one side and before the darkness enveloped you, you screamed out one word.

“Aemond!”

Instantly, Aemond was in the room, his chest heaving up and down as he scanned the room. His heart stopping at a halt when he saw the blood, the clots, the sweat that surrounded your legs; your calves and feet completely coated in deep red blood that was already dried by the time Aemond had made it into the room. Then his eyes travelled from your feet, up to your knees that were spread either side of your body to your rounded belly that hadn’t deflated yet and you. Tears sprang to his eyes as he saw your eyes closed shut, your mouth open like you had just been screaming but now frozen in time. His mother clutched at the wet rag, watching you with grief stricken eyes. The midwives had stopped doing their work and now stood around to look at you with tears streaming down their faces. Aemond’s boots clicked as he made his way to your side, your face serene and peaceful, he kneeled by you and stroked your hair out of your face.

“Aemond.” Alicent placed her elegant hand on her son’s shoulder but he shrugged it off without taking his eye off his beautiful wife, the one woman he loved with his entire being. He shifted his gaze to your chest and saw that it was still moving up and down.

“She’s still breathing.” He said, with little urgency because he suspected they knew this. Alicent looked towards the midwives to answer.

“We must persevere to save your child.” One of them said, Aemond scoffed.

“I want you to save my wife as well.” He demanded with a soft tone, trying not to lose his temper.

“It is either one or the other, my son. Both will not survive.” Alicent said softly, whispering towards the end as if to sound upset. Aemond couldn’t handle this for much longer.

“MY fucking wife!” He shouted, jumping to his feet and marching towards the midwives. “My wife, the only woman I have ever loved and you are letting her die! She’s young, she’s beautiful and you are leaving her to die in fucking pain.” They winced at his anger as he marched back to his mother. “And if it was my mother who gave the orders to murder my wife then I want her fucking gone. Out of my sight and away from her.” He spat at her feet before turning to you, your eyelids fluttering as he was instantly on his knees, he ignored the sniffles behind him as Alicent silently exited the room.

Your eyes opened slowly, peeling your eyelids from each other and you saw, behind the blurry curtain of your eyesight, your husband with his hand stroking your cheek so softly it was like he wasn’t doing anything. His face had tear streaks and his lips shuddered a little as he watched you open your eyes. For a moment, there was no pain. Only him. And you kept your eyes on him as he brought his lips to your nose, pressing on the tip gently.

“Aemond.” You croaked, reaching out for his hand in slow motion. He met you in the middle, bringing your fingers to his lips.

“Hello, baby.” He whispered. “You fell asleep for a few minutes but now it’s time to have the baby and I am here, I will stay by your side forever and you will never have to scream for me or cry for me ever again. I promise.” Tears rolled down your face as he softly kissed your lips. “Are you ready for this, my love?” You nodded, unable to speak because that twisting pain came back and you tried to haul yourself up with the one arm that was free but the midwives kept you down. The head midwife checked between your legs and nodded at Aemond.

“Keep breathing for us, Princess. You’re almost there.” You breathed in through your nose and exhaled through your mouth, your body relaxing with every exhale as if you’re letting go of all the pain and suffering you had gone through. Between your legs, you felt a stretch unlike anything else and a sharp pain that tore through your body and made you cry out in pain. “Lift up her torso for me.” She commanded, two midwives came at either side but Aemond stopped them.

“This is my child. Let me be a part of it.” He climbed onto the bed behind you, shifting his legs so you were settled between them before pulling up your body so gently it was like you were floating and now you were hitched up against his chest, your legs being held by the midwives that were going to lift you up. “Push for me, baby.” He whispered, holding you and you felt the strength to push down against your pelvis, feeling a slight movement as you breathed in and on the breath out, you pushed down; grinding your teeth until you were groaning. “Come on, baby.” He squeezed your forearm and you pushed again, until you felt something the size of a ball exit your body and for the last time, you pushed until a new cry splintered the room. The midwife pulled the crying baby from you and held it up to determine the sex. Her face dropped.

“A beautiful, healthy, baby girl.” You would be lying if you said you were ecstatic at the reveal, but you weren’t too disappointed either. You worried more about Aemond’s reaction so you looked up to find him crying, his eye patch lifted onto his shoulder as he squeezed his real eye and sapphire eye with his index finger and thumb.

“Bring her to me.” You said, your body now in a dull ache. Wrapped in silk cloth and cleaned and beautifully pink, your baby laid in your arms, her little fingers clutching on her blanket as you looked down at her. Your breath was taken from you when her eyes opened and reached for her mother, a sob emitted from your throat as the realisation that this perfect baby was yours to love and nurture. She was yours to admire. She was all yours.

“Gods, she is perfect.” Aemond whispered, bring his hand to the top of her head. He held her head gently, his thumb stroking the tiny strands of hair that she came out with. He reached down and kissed her forehead, kissing your cheek as he made his way back up to sitting. “Well done, my love. Well done.” He placed butterfly kisses on your neck and both of you relished in this silence as you both looked upon the most precious jewel you made. A little tiny human that shared both of you, she had no idea about the world she was born in. But that was okay. Because her mother and father would protect her until she didn’t need it anymore.

~

The church filled with people up and down the Red Keep as the baptism waited to take place. Behind a curtain, you stood draped in a most magnificent white gown and white headdress with your wonderful husband at your side, dressed in white as well. It had been four weeks since the birth of your daughter and four weeks in confinement as your body mended after the trauma of the birth, you still ached down below but you had to make an appearance at your daughters baptism. This would be the first time anyone other than your husband and child had seen you, so you wanted to make an impression with this massive gown.

“Congratulations.” King Viserys croaked from behind, he came limping in on his wooden walking stick with his Queen by his side. He had been ill straight after the birth and was kept hidden away until he got better. “I have seen my beautiful granddaughter and isn’t she just marvellous? I’ve always favoured girls.” He smiled before looping around you to get in the official formation. It would go the High Septon in front, then King and Queen with the baby and then you and Aemond behind. To be blessed properly, the baby had to be in the arms of either monarch. Before the doors opened, Aemond took your hand.

“How are you feeling?” He questioned, you looked up at your handsome husband.

“A bit sore, but I’m okay. You?” He brought your hand to his lips and kissed them.

“I’m always fine, my darling. Always fine if you are.” He kissed again, before pinching your cheeks. “You look beautiful.” You blushed like a teenage girl, your heart beating as you breathed in. He reached down and kissed your cheek.

“I’m actually nervous for this. No one has seen me in forever.” You said, wringing your hands.

“Cut yourself a break. You just gave birth and you look fucking beautiful.” A thought passed his mind, it showed in his eyes and he leaned down to whisper. “You’re so beautiful, I would fuck you right here, right now. Harder than I’ve ever done before.” He smirked, whisper kissing your neck. “If you weren’t still in pain, of course. So once you’re better, wait for what I’ll do to you.” You inhaled as he straightened up, as if he hadn’t just said all that in a room full of people.

A few moments beat by and a cute gurgle caused both of you to turn around and see your bundle of joy in the arms of her nanny, Aemond smiled instantly and took her from the nanny. You watched as your husband cradled your daughter, bouncing her gently in his arms as he stalked towards you, his eyes stuck on his stunning daughter.

“I’ll never get over her beauty.” He said to you, you met him in the middle and stroked the top of her head with your fingers. Her features were becoming more shaped like yours, her little hands still grasped at her lace outfit and white silk blanket that was the same cut as yours. You leaned down and kissed her button nose. Aemond never looked away from her and you wished you could freeze this moment of Aemond and your baby; him looking at her with great love and admiration and her looking up at him with saucer eyes full of wonder and curiosity.

“You’re so good with her.” You whispered, nestling your index finger in her tiny fist. She squeezed hard on it and you smiled like she had recognised you were her mother.

“Thank you.” Aemond looked up suddenly, tears welling in his eye.

“What for?” You cocked your head to the side.

“For giving me our daughter, Hope and for showing me that love wins every time. Thank you for being the most perfect jewel of a woman in the entire world. Thank you for giving me a beautiful family.” Both of you were crying, silently as the tears stream down your cheeks and you rested your head on his chest, looking at your daughter with pride blooming in your chest. Stroking her tiny hands and watching as she dozes deep into a sleep. You and your perfect family. Safe. Loved. Prideful. Grateful. And most importantly, happy.

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

MONEY, MONEY, MONEY, MUST BE FUNNY IN A RICH MAN'S WORLD. ( HOTD X READER )

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Stagehand! Reader prompt : Aegon falls in love with the stagehand of a jazz club. word count: 1, 000+ words

Aegon had a silver spoon up his ass from birth. He got the best cars, the best drugs, the best clothing, the best food. He didn't understand that not everyone had trust funds or billions in their bank account. He never knew struggle, nor would be thanks to his family name. He was a Targaryen, a god amongst the 'common folk'. But, in the small jazz club on the edge of Flea Bottom, he was just another man.

The bartender's didn't care about him, forcing him to pay full price for drinks. The dancers, more than once, backhanded slapped him for trying to catch a feel. All because of you, the stagehand, and brains behind the club. You preferred the shadows, keeping things smooth behind the scenes, saving you from embarrassment should you fail in public. You keep your co-worker's safe, and they did the same for you.

It was honorable. He could not fault you for ordering them to stand up for themselves. Even in the more sinful way of life, they still deserved basic respect. It also didn't help that you looked stunning when cursing him out. The way your eyes hardened. The way you would rip him apart with words. The color insults.

'The cumshot his Mother should have swallowed..'

'The inbred brat..'

'The depressing little wet rat..'

'The guy named Egg'

There was something about you. He didn't know what exactly. It could been the way you cussed him out. Or it could have been the way your eyes light up when you controlled the jazz club. But, there was a part of you that made him want to kick his feet up and twirl his hair like a giddy school girl.

Letting out a tipsy giggle as you snatch the glass of whiskey out of his hand, he leans against the bar table, a dopey grin on his face. He was not even close to being drunk, he’d barely even taken a sip of his whiskey. But, the look on your face was enough to make him feel drunk. You were so pretty. Your eyebrows furrowed, nose softly scrunched up, teeth gritted together, cheeks a flushed pink from anger.  Resting his chin on the palm of his hand, you were so pretty like this, all red faced and eyes full of hatred. He’d twirl his hair if it was long enough. Leaning a little closer on the bar table, he was practically standing on his tippy toes, eager to be close to you. 

“You come into my club, drunk, and think you can demand more to drink? There is no way that I am going to allow you to put my club at risk.” You snap back, shoving a water bottle into his hand. 

“You’re really pretty. Did you know that?” He giggles, “You’d even be prettier if you were to wear something designer, like some Chanel or some Vivienne Westwood. You should let me buy you some, sometime.”

“You're drunk.”  You scoff, shaking your head. 

“Pff! I am not drunk, well, drunk enough to not recognize that you're pretty when you're cursing me out. You’re, like, really pretty when you do it. But, I do think you’d be prettier if you did in something vintage.” He rambles on, the dopey grin on his face growing. 

“You’re drunk.” You state bluntly, rolling your eyes. 

"Again, with assuming that I am drunk."

Sitting back in his seat, he watches you pour out his whiskey into the sink, filling the cup with water. Unable to resist, he rolls his eyes hard a the sight of your routine. This happened almost every time, like clock work. He'd make a ass of himself, you'd assume he was drunk, pour out his drink and serve him water. It was oddly comforting. You cared, or at least it felt like you had cared for him. Even though a tiny part of him knew that you only cared for your club and the lawsuit that could happen. Still, he choose to believe that you cared for him.

"Let me..Let me take you out, just one date? We don't even need to kiss or hold hands." He attempts to negotiate, "I'll take you to the movies we can watch a nice film and just talk."

"I do not think that this is in your vocabulary." You scoff, placing the glass in front of him.

"And you know my vocabulary, now?" He scoffs back, mimicking your face playfully.

"I know people like you, your not that special or hard to read." You argues, "You pretend to be perfect just to get me to let you in my bed."

"One movie, that's it. No funny business."

"I do not like movies." You shake your head, making him scowl.

"Then we can go to the park and talk, there's a farmer's market." He tries again, "Get something to eat."

Watching you shake your head with a bitter chuckle, he cracks a smile, fingers drumming against the bar top. You may have been mocking him. Or maybe he was just high off the smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne that was thick in the club. But, just for a moment it all felt real. Like you cared, like you would consider it and accept.

"You're not giving up, are you?" You ask, lifting your gaze up to him.

"I will, if you ask me too."

"And..And if I want you to take me on a million dollar shopping spree?" You ask, the curiosity in your voice clear.

"I'd take you on a ten million one." He states without hesitation.

Watching you chew on your bottom lip, he waits, not daring to say another thing. He'd fear that if he say anything else it would made you rethink everything. That you'd call for security. Drumming his fingers on the bar top, you roll your eyes hard, making his heart sink. Cowering in his seat, he loose his confidence, his shoulders shagging. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he tries to shrug it off, scoffing. He didn't care? Why would he? It wasn't that big of a deal.

"I get off in an hour, stay and wait or don't." You mumble walking away, "I don't care."

---

[servicpop]

Which one of your oc reacts from the worst to the better one when s/o actually break up with them?

Make it nsfw? I wanna see some s/o getting pinned down and got punish lol

cw : slight non-con(?) and my ocs might be a bit toxic . . .

Adrien definitely acts the worst. He's obsessed with you remember ? The moment you go to him and tell him that you don't want to continue this little game of yours and you want him to leave you alone . . . sure , he'll respect you for a bit. But after a day or so and you're not texting him , not even looking at him , he'll go back to his old ways. Skipping classes , getting into fights and he swears he's going to crack the guy you smiled at's skull apart. He fully goes insane and after a week , he's blowing up your phone , chasing down your friends who are honestly surprised that he even knew of your existence. And when you finally agree to see him again , he's tearing off his clothing and pushing you up against the wall not even a foot away from the front door , groping at that soft flesh he missed so much. His words are an unintelligible mess of 'please take me back' and 'I'll fucking kill anyone you talk to.' Man is crazy about you !! He'll fuck you right outside the bedroom , pushing you up against the wall and pound into you because he's missed you way too much to wait any longer !

Vallen simply doesn't let it happen. You come up to his office with a nervous look on your face and when you spill the news he glances up through his reading glasses ( his eyes are getting sore from looking over so many documents >< ) and simply hums, curling his finger at you, instructing you to walk over to him. The moment you do , he pulls you onto his lap, gripping at your thighs as he stands up , letting your back fall across his desk. He's cruelly slow, pulling out all the way before slamming his hips against yours so hard that his pens rattle on his desk. "Found someone better than me?" He'd mutter before slowly pulling out just to ram himself back in. "I doubt it." He's too mean about it, slapping your thighs everytime you try and justify your reasons why you'd break up with him ! He's rich, gives you everything, loves and cares for you, why would you want to break up with him ?

Cole accepts it fully. He acts like a kicked puppy when you break the news to him. At first he'll ask you what he did wrong , if you weren't happy with him , if it was your job that make you break up with him. He tries his best to understand , especially since you're his first ever relationship with a man ! He won't stop going to your shows , won't stop sending you letters and flowers , but he does it all without showing his face ! He thinks you wouldn't want to see his face so he still shows his love through gifts and notes. It's not long before you cave in , all the gifts and letters still marked with paw prints and his signature at the bottom just pile up in your room and you miss him. Miss his caramel smile too much. Unlike the others , Cole doesn't jump to sex , he takes it slow by cuddling you , the limit of intimacy being kisses on your stomach ( he'll still believe you hate him until you reassure him 200x )

Callahan is exempt from this since he was never really in a relationship with you , but ! If he doesn't see you for an extended period of time ( basically breaking up ) he'll work even harder to track you down , asking for leads , retracing steps and finding you back at that motel where you two always seem to end up after every confrontation. He'll put you in cuffs , blabbering on some lie about how he'll put you in jail but just ends up stuffing your head in the pillow and pounding into your ass like he missed you ( which he did )

[trash-and-trash-accessories]

I love Spike so much. He's the most character of all time. But it's more than that. He's more than bleached hair, a pretty face, and bloodlust. He makes sense. The character makes sense.

He's William. He's still, despite it all, William Pratt, the god-awful poet and pathetic wet cat of a man under the thumb of mommy his whole life. He just wants to be loved and held and to satiate his unending bloodlust. He's not the big bad. He's pathetic.

He's burnt out on all the plots and schemes. Plots and schemes are Angel's thing. Serving some grand evil purpose is Darla's thing. Cruelty is Drusilla's thing. William Pratt is a poet and a mama's boy who just wants a strong woman to love him and tell him what to do. He's tired. He's so tired of the plots and schemes.

Sure, he knows how to have a good time, he plays kitten poker and sells demon eggs to the highest bidder but that's a matter of making money or hanging out with friends. It's not what he WANTS. The only thing he wants is to be loved by someone who loves him back. The problem is, he's toxic and obsessive. He doesn't fall in love. He becomes consumed. His whole world revolves around the object of his obsession. So when he's with Drusilla, he's the big bad evil guy doing schemes. Trying to impress her with extreme violence and death. Because that's what Drusilla is into. Torture and death. She's Catholic. And a vampire.

He also tries to impress Angel by killing Slayers because Angel is into Slayers and Angel and Spike canonically slept together don't at me. This man is bisexual.

When he's with Buffy he's a loyal dog. A bad boy, a part of the demonic world, but a dog nonetheless. He's a soulless monster but his obsession with Buffy turns him into one of the good guys. It's not natural for him. He feels it happening and he fights against it, but he's madly in love with her and he will be and do whatever it takes to impress her and make her love him back. He's obsessive.

He knows it, and he doesn't like that side of himself. He doesn't like that he's a pathetic dog. Sometimes he pushes against that side of himself. He tries to be a good person, for real. Not just a pathetic stalker of a man.

But he can't fight it. He is what he is.

And unfortunately that is a soulless vampire.

Hence that one scene that I pretend didn't happen.

But despite being definitionally evil, he can't stop being consumed the person he's obsessed with. Buffy wants him to have a soul. She wants him to not be the monster he is. So he rips William Pratt from his grave and resurrects him for her. He goes through hell to put his soul back inside his body for her. It takes her a long time to accept him again after what he did.

But he's the good boy now. He's a good dog.

Only she doesn't see him that way. In the end, he has her trust. Her love. She cares about him and sees him as her equal. As someone she can trust. She can't trust her friends because they're messy and constantly fucking up and betraying her because they don't understand what it is to be The Slayer. To have a human body and a human soul, with demonic power inside, and the divine mandate to sacrifice yourself for others, to save the world. No matter what that does to you.

Spike has a human soul, a demon inside him, trauma, and a divine mission to save the world. To sacrifice himself for everyone.

Spike is the only one who understands Buffy, and maybe the only one who ever will.

He's the perfect culmination of all her other relationships.

He fucks. Unlike Angel, Spike can fuck. He can experience joy alongside her.

He respects her strength and isn't emasculated or intimidated by the fact that she's stronger than him. He loves that she defeated a god. Unlike fucking Riley.

He's lived lifetimes worth of traumatic experiences. But he isn't currently experiencing an ongoing mental health crisis like Faith was.

And he likes poetry!

They even have the same ex boyfriend!

In conclusion He and Buffy are both the most character of all time and the narrative's favorites and therefore they are both perfect for each other and have the potential to be extremely toxic together and I'm so happy for them, I hope she pegs him, I know he would love that.

[sacrednova]

Still Missus Riley | Simon "Ghost" Riley.

Simon as a fem!reader's ex-husband:

Simon still remembers every little thing about her. He brings her favorite tea or coffee every week, showing up with groceries she might need, still knowing her schedule and preferences by heart. “Habit,” he’d say gruffly if she questioned him. But he doesn’t want to let go of that rhythm. It's his way of grounding himself, still feeling connected.

Despite the divorce, Simon continues to refer to her as Mrs. Riley—even if it’s to himself. To him, the vows they made still hold weight, and he doesn’t consider the divorce anything but a bad dream. He’s never missed a chance to let her know, “Still my wife,” if someone else tries to flirt with her. If she argues, he might mutter, “Divorce papers don’t change what’s in here,” tapping his chest.

Simon still feels deeply protective. If he senses someone hurting or disrespecting her—even if it’s someone she’s dating—he’ll make his presence known. He shows up to fix things around her apartment or steps in when he thinks someone is taking advantage of her. She might call it overbearing, but to him, it’s just his duty. And he doesn’t plan on giving it up.

When she’s feeling down, Simon has a way of just knowing. He still gives her space but drops by with dinner or a blanket on bad days. If she questions why, he shrugs and says, “Husband’s job, innit?” He’ll act as if it’s only natural, dismissing her protests like he can’t even hear them.

Seeing her with someone else stirs something dark in him. He acts cool and nonchalant on the surface, but she’ll catch the way he lingers around longer, watching her interactions. He might even drop a passive-aggressive comment like, “Hope he treats you right,” when he leaves, letting her know he’s still deeply invested, still hers.

Little pieces of her life still linger in his space. Maybe it’s her favorite mug, a scarf she forgot, or even the blanket he keeps around for when she’s cold. He doesn’t give them back, and she might notice they’re always ready for her whenever she drops by. It’s as if he’s building a small shrine to the life they shared, unable to let go of these reminders.

Occasionally, Simon slips, calling her “love” or “darling” like he used to. When she gives him a pointed look, he might grunt, brush it off, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. Even if they’re “separated,” he’s emotionally anchored to her, and every time he has to pull away, it’s like leaving a part of himself behind. For Simon, she’ll always be Mrs. Riley—divorce or not.

He hates that he still loves her. Simon knows they’re divorced; he knows that he should respect her space, but he can’t help himself. He never stopped caring, never stopped thinking of her as his wife. Even if he’s quiet and reserved, the way his eyes soften when he sees her, the way he touches her shoulder for just a second too long, all give him away. He never voices it, but she knows, and he knows she knows.

Any man that even looks at her for more than two seconds gets that unblinking, icy stare. Simon isn’t subtle about it either. He’s not above scaring off guys who get a little too close for his liking, muttering to himself, “They don’t know you like I do. Don’t know what they’re asking for.” He even goes as far as tracking the ones she does talk to, and while he’s careful to not intrude, he’s fully prepared to step in if anyone oversteps the invisible boundaries he’s set around her.

[schoolsucks-tellmeotherwise]

When the Last Petal Falls(Part 1)

Yandere!Duke x Male!Reader

You were put into an arranged marriage with a duke who's infamous for killing those married to him after the death of his wife when their son was but a newborn. After the marriage, the man ignored you, not even visiting your room on your wedding night. But the child was far too cute and lonely to simply ignore!

A/n : so uhh, idk how it happened, but I accidentally published my unfinished draft of this, I don't know how, last time I checked it was still in my drafts! I took a nap, turned off my notifications. And then when I woke up there was '____ liked your post: 'When the last petal falls'' and I was like, wtf, I didn't even upload it though.ヽ⁠༼⁠⁰⁠o⁠⁰⁠；⁠༽⁠ノ

A/n#2 : welp, it's updated now, so I'll see you on part two when I start working on it, hopefully I don't accidentally post it again.(⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠)

You weren't all too thrilled about your wedding, but it's not like you could do anything about it. Your family was hemorrhaging money in a project that cost far more than what they had, stupid, really stupid. Now they're marrying off their eldest child, you, to a man, who was infamous for murdering his spouses, for profit! But you (the maids) packed your belongings and got yourself dressed non the less.

You stared at yourself as a maid continued to do your hair, all the while her coworkers arguing about what you should wear. "BUBBA!!" A small yet strong voice of a little girl yelled accompanied by rapid footsteps. Soon enough you hear the footsteps come to a halt as the door to the room opened slightly. You turned you head slowly so you don't ruin whatever the maid was doing. Seeing a tiny head peeking in, you smiled softly as you ushered your little sister in.

"You're going all ready?" She pouts as a she makes her way over to you with her arms outstretched. You engulf her in a hug when she got close enough before answering her question. "Unfortunately, I am, why? Are you going to miss your big brother?" You joke, Rose buried her face further into your clothes. Then you heard a a barely audible sniffle, not from Rose, no, but from out the door. You could guess the maid that was dutifully styling you hair heard it too when she stopped her work. You look at her before gently carrying Rose with you while she looked down towards the ground curiously.

Opening the door, you saw your youngest sibling trying to dry his tears with his sleeves. Crouching down, you place your hand over the one he was using to wipe his tears. "Finn, why are you crying?" You whisper gently, picking him up in your unoccupied arm. "B-big brother..... No go..." He whimpers clutching onto your shirt. You sigh softly, you gently place Rose down on the ground, with a pat to her head, so you could run your fingers through the young boys hair.

"I won't be gone forever, you two." You say as you walk towards the maid who was doing your hair earlier, Rose following you. You say down with Finn in your lap, calling a maid to get your little sister a chair as well. "You may continue." You tell the maid. Rose was oddly quiet the entire time, you won't question it though.

"... Can't you ask mother and father to hold off your marriage..." A deep yet quiet voice says. You nearly jump, you didn't hear him enter the room at all. "Wilhelm.. didn't I tell you to make noise so I know you're there?" You scold without turning to look at him. "I'm sorry.... I forgot to do so.. are you angry?" He whispers so quietly you had to strain your ears to hear. "No, I'm not." You say simply and you four were plunged into silence.

You sigh when 5 minutes have passed with no words spoken, the only noise being the whisper-yells of the maids(they tried to be quiet out of respect, they failed). You shift slightly so you could hand Wilhelm your sleeping brother. When he takes Finn in his arms you shoo the two siblings away, you're sure they were busy something before deciding to ignore that and come to you. "Well, you two have somewhere you need to be, make sure to put Finn in his cot beforehand." You say, leaving no room for objections.

The two look at each other before Wilhelm nods, a quick 'goodbye' leaving his lips and Rose hugs you quickly, turning away and walking to the door the young girl gives you a wave and a bye of her own. Only a few minutes later and your hair was finally finished, the other also having agreed on what you'd wear.

"You look stunning, young master!"

"I agree."

"Kyaaa! The young master's just so pretty! There's no way the duke won't like it!"

They all comment, but the last one but you on edge. It made you remember just who exactly you were marrying. 'That's right... I'm marrying him...' You thought, you were scared, and you couldn't deny it even if you wanted to. Getting married to someone you don't love is already hard enough, but getting married to someone who cloud kill you without consequences was terrifying.

"Young master? Are you alright? You seem quite troubled"

You hear a maid call out, a frown etched on her face. You quickly muster an 'I'm alright, don't worry' to her and she reluctantly believes it. The others looked worried to, yet never spoke a word, a silent conversation happening between them as they look at one another. Though they escort you out no less.

When you step out of the house you see lines of servants on the edge of the path way, your family (minus one) was in front of the gate and slightly blocking your view of a white and gold carriage behind them.

"[Y/n], you look stunning."

Your mother says as she hugs you. You wrap your arms around her as well before she pulls away. You feel a heavy hand gently hold place itself on your shoulder.

"Make our family proud, [Y/n]."

Your father says simply, but you can barely make out the slight waver of his stern voice. You give him a reassuring, close-eyed smile before saying 'Of course, father.'

As you step into the carriage with the help of the maids you hear your siblings call out. You smile at them and wave as the carriage starts moving.

The wedding hall was packed full of aristocrats, royalty and the like. Your family chatting up to your soon-to-be husband's family as you were given some touch ups behind the scenes by a maid. You were nervous, if not for your life then for the fact that if this went awry, your family would be in trouble, trouble that can't be quickly fixed.

Once the maid was finished you heard the king give an early congratulations to you and the duke for your marriage. You could see the duke waiting at the alter. And as you've guessed, he wasn't at all thrilled by this arrangement. It made fear for yourself more as you started to walk down the aisle.

You flinched as you felt him pull the veil away from your face harshly. You could feel your palms getting clammy as the officiant begins to read your vows.

"Do you, Iver Quinnell, take [Y/n] [L/n] as your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, through your highs and lows, in poverty and wealth and till death alone do you part?

"I do"

The duke said, gritting his teeth as he forced himself to hold your hands. He repeats the same for you, what's the point in asking this if there's no other option but—

"I do"

You say softly, but loud enough to be heard by the officiant and those closer to the alter. The old man smiles at the two of you before he turns around. Grabbing two silver chalice's filled with fine wine, he hands then to the two of you. This was it, once both infused some mana into one another's wine and drank from it, you two would be officially wedded.

You look up at your husband, his dull, golden eyes not focused on you. You sigh in relief, you don't want to look him in the eyes right now. Looking back down, you bite back the urge to just turn on your heel and run, but before you could act on those thoughts you stopped yourself as you hover your hand over your husband's chalice. He also, reluctantly, does so to yours.

You could see both chalice's glowing [f/c] and dark blue before returning to it's original, deep red hue. Hesitantly, you press the chalice to your lips before drinking the liquid inside. The crevices of the ring on your finger glow a dark blue as your husband's glows [f/c]. The phrase 'you may seal you union with a kiss' was what you dreaded, but you sucked it up like how your husband did as he hooked his arm around your waist and gave you a short kiss, long enough that people won't doubt or complain about your marriage.

Loud applause and chains of congratulations come right after. You spend the rest of the 'celebration' thanking guests, making connections and talking with familiar faces.

You begged to every god out there that you wouldn't be forced to spend the night with your newly-wed husband. Thankfully, they answered your prayers, but it cost you. A rumor about how the duke skipped his wedding night to visit his late wife's grave was what greeted you two days after the marriage.

You sigh tiredly as you sat in your office, handling your duties as the duke's husband. You could hear the quiet whispers of the maids that passed by.

"I heard that Duke Quinnell skipped his wedding night with Lord [L/n]!"

"Really? Where did you hear that from anyway?"

"From the head maids daughter! You want to know why he skipped it? Because he went to visit the late duchess' grave! I personally think he's a romantic, only for Lady Lucilia."

"You know well that the head maids daughter is a liar! And that's rude, we're infront of Lord [L/n]'s office right now, have you no shame?"

"I don't think he can hear me anyway, plus even the head maid said the duke went to his wife's grave! I heard she and her daughter accompanied the duke too."

You heard their conversation clearly, though muffled by the walls and doors. 'This maid is quite a blabber mouth, isn't she?' You thought, while separating all the documents and making sure they wouldn't fly away. You stood up and looked out the large window that overlooks the garden. Amidst all the green and flowers, you see a small black blob, and it looks like it's trembling.

Against your better judgement, you decide to go down and check what it was. The walk felt long, the corridors seemingly twisting and connecting back to one another, but you made it out with only being mildly disoriented. With a relieved sigh you start walking down path way. You remember that blob was somewhere around the yellow begonia's and away from the path.

Seeing the rose-like blooms you begin to stray off the stone path and onto the grass. You begin searching for the blob when you hear soft sniffling, it reminded you of when Finn would do his best to cry silently. You begin to walk towards the noise, your footsteps quiet. Parting a few bushes you see a small boy with black hair. You guess he was what you saw when in your office.

Slowly, you walk towards the boy, you sit by him with the rustle of leaves. You see him flinch and look up, his bright green eyes were red from crying, his puffy. His face remarkably similar to your husband's. 'Ah, so this is his child, how cute.' You think. "Who are you?" He asked meekly, his voice raspy from crying for too long.

"[Y/n] [L/n], you can call me whatever you like. But more importantly, why are you crying alone?"

You ask him. He looks at you, his big eyes becoming even bigger as they widen in surprise. He quickly and roughly wipes the tears away from his eyes with his sleeve. Well, he tries at least, the tears don't seem to stop.

"Stop that, you'll only cause it to get more irritated." You tell him, gently grabbing his wrist and pull it away so you can wipe away his tears a a soft handkerchief. He sniffles but leans his head into your touch. 'Poor boy' you think, it's sad to see how willingly he accepts any form of affection or touch. You can only guess how long he's been hiding his feelings and needs from everyone.

Only now do you realize that he hasn't answered your question. Maybe he doesn't feel comfortable sharing that with you, that's alright, you won't push him for answers. You start to hear sniffling again. Then you feel two tiny hands hold your hand, pushing it closer to his face.

You smile softly, moving your other hand away to hide the handkerchief. "Hush now, there's no need to cry." You whisper while rubbing his cheek with your thumb. "What's your name?" You ask him even though you already knew his name. "Lucille..." He says quietly.

"Well then, Lucille, is there something that you might want to do?" You ask him, and after seeing his eyes light up, you knew you did the right thing. "I wanted to practice my magic with daddy, but he was busy." He mutters. "Then, if you don't mind, we can practice together, right here, right now if you want." You tell Lucille as he looks at you, stars in his eyes. "Really?" He asked you. "Really." You say as a matter of fact.

You've spent days on end with Lucille, juggling with handling house affairs and caring for your husband's child. "Mama, why does magic exist?" He asks for the tenth time today. Sitting on your lap because he refused to leave you alone.

You sigh; "Again, Lucille, I don't know, but maybe it's because someone stronger thought that we deserved or needed the help of nature to live. And how many times do I have to tell you: I'm not your mama." You tell him while working on the boring, yet important paperwork in your hands.

"But mama-!" He was cut short as you shushed him, placing your finger to his lips. "Ah ah ah, I told you before that I'm not your mama, I'm happy you think I'm your mother, but I'm not." You say before patting his head gently. "You must miss her-" "I don't know her..."

This time, you were cut off by Lucille. "What?" You say, voice soft. You were shocked, he'd never done that before. "I don't her, I don't know my mom." He starts his hands ball up into fist, crumpling his shorts. "Why should I miss someone I never knew? Mama was the one who took care of me and played with me, not daddy, not the dead woman, but mama." He says, it left you stunned as he looks at you.

"I don't know how to love someone I don't know, mama..." He says so quietly that you could barely pick it up. You spin him around on your lap so that he could face you. You gently wipe away his tears, telling him sweet nothings to get him to stop crying. You never expected that he'd react like this.

And neither did the duke's personal butler apparently. As he was walking down the halls of your side of the manor, he hears the young master's voice. 'The young boy has never gone here before, why would he be here now?' The elderly man puzzled.

But seeing you comforting a crying Lucille, after he had said that he did not feel any love towards his birth mother, was not what he expected.

Perhaps he should inform the master of this. After all, anything concerning Lucille or Lady Lucilia is of great importance, or so Duke Iver says. And frankly, it concerned him why the young master said that, and why he burst into tears after.

If on the off chance that you forced the boy to say that, he would not hesitate to keep the young master away from you. And if Lucille really feels that way? He would be divided, he was loyal to the young master who he's served all this time, but on the other hand, he cares for the child running around like the boy's his own grandson.

Telling the duke would mean a punishment. Not for Lucille, no, of course not. But for you, the one who possibly forced the young boy to say how he doesn't love his biological mother. But if you didn't force the boy, then it means that Lucille is comfortable with you, going so far as to call you 'mama'. And if you were hurt, then that would mean that Lucille would be hurt as well.

After weighing his options, the butler chose the safer route, to tell the duke what he had heard.

*knock* *knock* *knock*

He knocked on the wooden thrice, after waiting for a while he entered when he heard 'cone in'. Seeing the large and imposing man sitting at his desk, glasses hung loosely from his face while signing documents and writing letters. "What did you need, Henry?" Iver asked.

"Master, I'm afraid that young master Lucille may be being forced to say that he doesn't feel a connection to Lady Lucilia by Lord [L/n]. I am still unsure whether or not this assumption is correct but I feel it is better to inform you of this."

He says, he saw the way the duke stiffened and how his hand were shaking from how tightly he balled them up, the feather pen snapping in half under the pressure.

Iver stood up, his frame blocking most of the natural light from getting in. His amber eyes glowing as he ordered:

"Tell Lord [L/n] to come see me in my office. Now."

A/n : So, I guess we're turning this into a two part story. So.... Thank you for reading this I will give you a digital flower as payment<3 and thank you for my first seven heart givers. Even though it was still unfinished when I accidentally posted it(⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠) anyways, have a good day, all days, peace(⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

[dietcokegirly12]

HELLO, I just read your fic called "Trapped" with Poe! omg i loved it, it was the best thing I've read so far. So...I'd love to ask you if you could do another NSFW fic with a fem reader It doesn't matter what it's about as long as it's sweet and has NSFW. Sorry if I didn't specify well 😭 I'm just desperate to read another fic with him, I loved your writing tysm! 💗

“First Time?”

featuring edgar allen poe (,,¬﹏¬,,)

.˚₊‧˗ˏˋ ─── ✎ᝰ♡✧˖°🗒 ─── ��ˊ˗‧₊˚. ─── ✎ᝰ

art credit: pinterest

.˚₊‧˗ˏˋ ─── ✎ᝰ♡✧˖°🗒 ─── ˎˊ˗‧₊˚. ─── ✎ᝰ

tags: unprotected sex, cervix kissing, premature ejaculation, mention of masturbation, sub!poe, dom!reader, etc etc

word count: 2k

˚₊‧⁺˖┈┈⋆˙⟡♡┈┈˚₊‧⁺˖┈┈⋆˙⟡♡┈┈˚₊‧⁺˖┈┈⋆˙⟡♡

You and Poe had been dating for several months now, ever since you met at a library where he was working on a novel, and had captivated you with his awkward charm and boyish smile.

Immediately, you had begun to flirt with him, and after coming often to the library, eventually asked him out on a coffee date.

Your relationship had soared after that, always going on lavish dates with your doting boyfriend, and him constantly showering you in gifts and as much time as he could spare aside from writing novels where you would have cute little dates at the park, or ice-skating together, and truly he was the perfect boyfriend.

Aside from one minor problem.

You two had never… well had sex.

And you weren’t sure if it was because Poe was too shy to ask, or because he just didn’t want to, but you certainly didn’t want to push him if he was uncomfortable.

Of course, you two had kissed, even made out a few times, but it would never last long, with Poe blushing immensely and having to excuse himself where you wouldn’t see him for the rest of the night.

Hell, you two had never even slept in the same bed.

On the rare occasions, you would sleep over, since he was always insisting on driving you home, he was always up late working, and when you would awake in the morning, he’d be curled up and asleep on the couch, ever the respectful gentleman.

You really didn’t want to believe it had something to do with you, or that you just didn’t appeal to him in that way, but it was getting increasingly harder to hold back as the days went on, and you got more and more pent up.

What you didn’t know was that every night, Poe would furiously fuck his fist, imagining it was your hand pumping up and down, and indulging in the dirty thoughts he had felt about you ever since your first kiss, horny and in need of any kind of release.

He refused, however to rush you in the relationship, conceding that you needed to take it slow, and he didn't need nor want you to feel pressured by him into doing anything you weren't comfortable with. No, you were his angel, that was the last thing he wanted to do.

You would think he was starting to lose interest with the way he was almost never home, usually making himself busy with his writing.

Finally, you had enough, and in a last-ditch effort to get him to just touch you, you set up a movie night in his living room, draping the couch with lots of extra blankets and pillows to cuddle in.

"Poeee.. c'mere you've been working so hard, come watch a movie with me." you whine, tugging the raven-haired man closer when he finally came for a break.

He chuckled softly, caressing your cheek. "Okay.. sure, one movie."

You scoot over, so he can sit next to you, sighing internally as he made sure to stay a reasonable distance away, your thighs not even brushing.

As the movie progresses however, you shift closer, eager to put your plan into motion so that he won't be able to ignore you.

Gently, your hand slides up his thigh as you rest your head onto his shoulder, eyes never leaving the screen.

He stiffens slightly under your touch, but stays still, breathing turning slightly heavier.

A couple minutes tick by, and you move your hand slightly higher as you pretend to adjust yourself, until you're practically in his lap, hand dangerously close to where you knew the bulge in his pants was.

And just as your fingertips just barely ghost over him, he jolts like he's been shocked, quickly standing up as he hurries off to his room again, blushing furiously.

"M'sorry! Just remembered.. ah.. I forgot something or.. I need to... my book!"

And then he's gone.

You slump back against the couch, defeated but not ready to give up just yet.

This was going to be harder than you thought.

.˚‧˗ˏˋ ── 𓃠✎ ⋆⑅˚₊ ── ˎˊ˗‧˚.── 𓃠✎ ⋆⑅˚₊ ── ˎˊ˗‧˚

You genuinely thought that maybe it was something you were doing, or that he just wasn't attracted to you, which didn't make sense, because he told you almost every day how beautiful you were, like a creation straight out of one of his novels.

So, deciding to take matters into your own hands, you went to ask his best friend, his only friend, Ranpo Edogawa.

"Has Poe what?"

You blush, bending closer to the shorter man to whisper something into his shaggy brown hair.

"Has Poe ever had a girlfriend? Or had.. ah.. sex with anyone you would know of?"

Drawing back, Ranpo looks you up and down, smirking, emerald green eyes glinting mischievously. "What, you two haven't...?"

You swallow, shaking your head quickly. "I'm starting to think he doesn't want to..."

Ranpo grabs you quickly then, taking you by surprise as he widens his eyes in pretend shock, leading you to believe he knows more than he's letting on. "Oh, he wants you all right. He's always going on and on about the ways..."

"Ranpo?"

You turn your head, spotting your tall, awkwardly standing boyfriend, rubbing his arm as his gaze flicks over the two of you.

"What are you doing?"

As he steps closer, you quickly untangle yourself from Ranpo whose eyes dart between you both.

"Well, this was fun, but I have to get going back to the Agency. See you, Poe!" And with that, he dashes off, leaving just you and Poe alone.

Poe comes closer, eyes uncertainly scanning yours. "W-what were you doing with him?"

You quickly rush to explain, not wanting your poor boyfriend to think anything less than pure was going on. "Don't worry, baby! I was just asking Ranpo something a-about.. uh.."

He tilts his head. "He was saying something about someone wanting you?"

Sighing internally, knowing you weren't going to get away from this without an explanation, you quickly say in a rush,"Iwasaskinghimifyou everhadsex!"

He freezes at that, body going completely stock-still as his face flushes as it usually does when he gets flustered or embarrassed.

You quickly rush to apologize. "I'm so sorry. And I should've asked you but I.."

"No, it's fine." He cuts you off, voice strained and eyes unreadable as he gazes down at you.

Worried since you had never seen him make that expression, you reach for his hand, squeezing slightly. "Sorry. Let's just go home."

He nods numbly, and trails behind you as you lead both of you back to his apartment.

┈⋆ ˚｡⋆📜⋆. ˚｡⋆࿔♡✎ᝰ┈⋆ ˚｡⋆📜⋆. ˚｡⋆࿔♡✎ᝰ┈⋆ ˚｡⋆

The whole walk back, you're thinking about ways to apologize for invading his space like that, feeling horrible. He's silent, simply holding your hand and seemingly lost in thought as his mind is elsewhere.

You imagine the worst. He hates you, is already thinking of ways to distance himself, thinks you're disgusting and a pervert, and... oh you're making yourself sick with the thought, wants to break up.

You prepare to make an apology as you shakily unlock the door, turning slightly to face him. "Poe, I'm truly so sorry-"

But you don't get to finish before his lips are clumsily smashing against yours, rough and unyielding as for the first time, he kisses you with passion, rather than his usual hesitance.

He licks the bottom of your lip softly and as you whimper softly in response, takes it as an invitation to mold his hot tongue to yours, pushing you back gently through the door, and closing it with a slam with his foot.

Gasping for breath, he draws away from your mouth barely enough to lift your hips onto the counter behind you, clumsily fumbling with the buttons of your shirt as he connects his desperate mouth back against yours,

"Fuck.. waited so.. mmph.. long. I just never thought you wanted to.. I didn't wanna rush.. ah fuck.."

He breaks off in an obscene moan, one you had never heard before, and one you never wanted to stop hearing, as your hands run lightly over his pants, trying to unbutton as fast as you can.

His head tilts back, beautiful hair falling back to reveal his sharp jawline and high cheekbones, eyelashes fluttering softly.

Pushing his pants down past his hips, you finally reveal the pale, twitching cock you had been dreaming of for so long, slender and oh-so long, tip glossy with pre-cum and prominent veins tracing prettily all along him.

He shudders as you finally grip him, instinctively pumping up and down as his hips shift forward, a lewd groan slipping out of him.

"Please.. ngh.. c-can't wait.. wan' feel you."

His nimble hands come to tug lightly at your pants, clearly wanting them off, and you're all too eager to comply, undressing to reveal yourself, completely bare in front of him for the first time, full breasts and laced panties showing just how soaked you were for him.

He groans at the sight, hands shakily reaching for you again as he lifts you up to straddle him, hands immediately finding the plush of your thighs and breasts, gently squeezing everywhere he can reach, all too eager after being denied for so long of you.

And you just can't wait any longer, the throbbing in your sopping cunt becoming so intense, you feel as if you might die if he isn't inside you soon.

"Here Poe, jus' stay still.."

He grunts softly, hips jerking as his tip nudges at your entrance, you slowly sinking down on him, wincing as he stretches you so perfectly.

Before he's even halfway in, though, he's cumming, spurts of hot, white ribbons filling you up so filthily, so much of it that it begins to seep out of you, your mouth wide and head thrown back as you shudder at the feeling.

"Poe..." you gasp out, chest heaving. "Did you just...?"

His eyes are squeezed shut tightly in embarrassment, a small whine leaving his throat as you finally manage to sink all the way down, his length throbbing desperately inside you.

His hands come to fit over your hips, long fingers splaying across you as he practically pleads with you. "Fuck! M'sorry! Lemme make it up to you, doll!"

That being his only warning, he starts to bounce you up and down on his cock, tip brushing your cervix with every thrust as you moan softly, tugging on his hair as small cries of his name rush out of you.

He bounces you quicker, and reaches a hand down to explore over your cunt, fingers slightly uncoordinated, but learning fast as he quickly finds your clit, tracing over it sloppily.

Your eyes shut and a small whine escapes you as your hips instinctively buck forward, tightening around him, the slight angle change enough for him to hit even deeper into your snug walls.

He grunts, thrusts becoming more erratic and sloppy as he prods at the squishy spot deep inside you that makes you squeal, your stomach coiling tighter with every thrust.

"Poe.. m'close.. m'close.. hah.. fuck m'cumming!"

And with that being your only warning, your cunt sucks him deeper as your walls ripple and tighten, syrupy arousal coating your thighs as you finally reach your high, white-hot blurring your vision.

"Fuck!" He curses before spilling more ropes of cum into you, being so full of him at this point you can barely breathe, every movement eliciting more of his cum to drip out from between your thighs obscenely.

You collapse onto his chest, sticky against him as your breath heaves, hair sweaty on your forehead.

After a few moments, he gently kisses your forehead, trying to relax but still restless under you, shifting slightly. "Fuck..."

"What is it?" You breathe, one hand coming to comb through his soft hair fanning across you.

It's just then that you feel something hard prodding into you again, before Poe's shy voice speaks up, his hips shifting to grind against you slightly.

"Can we.. do that again, maybe?"

[peachyfnaf]

dawg as stupid as Omoon was acting these past few days, he was right about something. He is absolute SHIT at comforting people dhdjjfjdkfn. like holy shit your brother is greiving the loss of someone he loved, who he had to kill with his own two hands, and your response is to go on some sob story about how you aren't as cool and smart as people make you out to be and how you're a terrible brother but also you're still smart and stuff so 'ohh sunny if i'm bad just tell me, i'll still be your brother its okay, but the person your greiving was EVIL and STUPIDer!!!! im doing so much better then he did see!!!' like fuck moon you just said the most sob story nothing speech i've ever seen. and then said he'll leave and sun should just drown his feelings.

i was watching solar send hate beams through the back of moons head the whole time jdhfkf 'i don't think you where saying most of that to sun' just hit it on the head babe, you don't gotta baby him its okay to tell him that was shit LMAO

This ask is so fucking funny /pos

I sincerely hope Solar directly confronts Moon about this in upcoming episodes- cause I feel like this man is sick of seeing Moon's be assholes to their loved ones, and Solar has a lot of pent-up feelings about the Nexus situation too, I think. He's always been good at hiding those, but his emotions come out in tidal waves. If the dam breaks when he snaps at Moon, then the whole flood is coming.

And listen. I understand that Moon is not good at emotions, but now that he's finally talked to Sun and Sun has basically told him that what he needs is for Moon to just be there for him because he misses Nexus and he needs his family there with him so he's not alone in mourning his lost brother, Moon's response being "FUCK NEXUS" and then leaving Sun be to "bury his feelings" is. That's so fucking dumb of him, man. Respect to Moon enjoyers but he's being so dumb rn it's making me even more of a little hater than usual. I get that he might just be trying to help in his own way, but the way his help is being given is directly contradicting what Sun wants and needs right now. And that is not okay.

AND we know Moon is capable of proper forms of comfort because we saw him do so in the July 16th aftermath episodes. He was so kind and patient and sweet to Sun during that time, and he was there for him. He needs to do better, because we all know he can.

[crooked-wasteland]

The court scene in hazbin leaks seemed empty .

Lute had no arguments, she was yelling in void, the seraphim and female stolas were just there waiting for plot to happen, Sera answer to anything lute saying was "shut up" literally, which isn't only unprofessional for a governor to do but also it helped at portraying lute as crazy hysterical woman no one respect without the presence of her man.

If hazbin hotel was really interested in discussing the concept of good and evil then here's the right moment, we could take this scene as opportunity to talk about the the justice, lute should represent the concept of the justice is inflexible only bound to the rules that kept people safe for decades . her arguments is that they are currently in war with hell and they can't let a sinner in might be dangerous he might attend some harm upon them or play the role of spy for the morningstars . Emily or stolas-evil-twin or anyone, will represent the concept that there's no justice without mercy and rules should have an exception for cases like this their argument is his sin didn't come from malicious place but rather from a genuine fear so is his act of redemption and therefore we have right to assume that his soul is inherently good and he attends no harm and we should welcome him in heaven .

And I remember a saying in writing goes like :"write an argument where everyone seems to win"(I forgot the actual quote) and I think this one of the scene where we should apply that in order for scene to have a depth

I agree, except on the account of Lute's argument being pointless. Unfortunately, you need the other leak of Seraph talking to Able and the one of Vox to grasp the points being made.

Major spoilers incoming!

The argument Lute makes in the courtroom is nonsensical because we were never given the information. At the start of the season, Charlie has a fairytale book of her parents and it mentions Lilith using music to rally demons against heaven. Vox says this explicitly in a reminder lore dump of 12 whopping seconds that Lilith was prepared to go to war with Heaven before vanishing.

So there's that aspect of the world we never had mentioned or hinted at in the main series. It would have actually helped a lot with incorporating Lilith's army waiting for her in Happy Day in Hell. It also could have been tied back to Rosie and her cannibals. Maybe hinting at the Rosie and Lilith connection more appropriately, or at least opening the idea that Lilith had an army waiting on her still.

Additionally, Seraph mentions how Hell will "want revenge". So even if Hell wasn't a threat before, her greenlighting a genocide is going to make peace a relative impossibility. It's inevitable for Hell to fight back, so now Heaven has to figure out if they will risk their own safety by ending the cullings, or continue and admit they are oppressors keeping Hell weak intentionally. It would make the suggestion of redemption unappealing, regardless of being possible.

But the issue the series will have to patch over is the idea that Sinners would want to be redeemed if it wasn't for Heaven's yearly census shaving. The conflict in the pilot was that Sinners wouldn't want to be redeemed. The exorcists were actually a believable motivation for why anyone would even consider redemption when you have the right to suffer and cause suffering forever in Hell. The issue of the Sinners' immortality questioning how the show is going to believably instill the idea that the discomfort of staying the same is going to outweigh the discomfort of change. And the exorcists seem, frankly, necessary to maintain the pressure on Hell to give Charlie a chance. Meanwhile, maintaining a genocide is going to turn away people who are probably good at their core. The pressure of being oppressed will leave them nowhere to go and without options that don't in some way contradict their own values.

So the story is actually focused on the major plot issue for once. However it isn't staying there. Then we have to remember the sneak peek Medrano shared of Baxter and how the concept of Redemption at all is what is being challenged. Not if Redemption is desirable. So that is where the two sides of the story lose cohesion. Honestly, the Heaven storyline will be far stronger than the story taking place amongst the actual main characters. And between the Baxter/Alastor/Lute reveals, I'm wondering what time there is left to even tell any story about the main character. Once again, we're looking at too many plot threads not being given enough time to expand.

[captnbunnie]

Oh man, I had been waiting to read this post!! Problem was that everytime I remembered I could not find where I saved it haha (spoiler: it was on my own chat lol)

Anyways, oooh this is very interesting!! It makes Odysseus such a human and complex character, it's incredible the levels of mastery that Homer had with his sotries!

Honestly everytime I read one of your analysis I cannot stop myself from comparing the Odyssey to Epic, and it just makes me realise more and more how much the musical missed and what we could have had! The idea of listening to a musical in which Odysseus is helpless in the face of fate, where he does his best in saving his men, having an objective that is not just about him (seeing Penelope and Telemachus again) but is about all the men that are with him (trying to save the most men he can and take them home with him), just gets me yearing for one!

I still keep thinking about that post you made about Circe, how it would have been so much better if we'd have seen Odysseus not being able to reject Circe's proposal, and him just calling to Penelope and the gods,,, and then later how it would have sounded if instead of "embracing" violence, he had just felt depressed and humiliated after Charybys and Calypso, with only his desire to see his family and kingdom again to push him forward, maybe also as a tribute to remember the sacrifice of his men and their efforts during the war and the travel,,,

I really don't like much how he became a violent beast in the last saga, I think it's very out of character for him (as if everything that happened earlier wasn't lol), but as you said in many other of your posts, I think it would have had a better inpact if the end point of the travel was to show a desperate man trying to come home but left to face the force of nature alone. I think it really does a better job at translating how, even if he has all the resolution in the world, even if he has a very strong wish, even if he tries his best, it does not mean that he'll be able to get what he wants. It doesn't mean anything in the face of reality and nature and fate, much stronger forces then a mere man. I truly enjoy those kind of stories much more because they portray something real, something that could happen to all of us. Instead Epic decided to go to the more "edgy" route, which maybe I would have appreciated more when I was younger haha.

Also while reading this I was listening to "Monster" (one of the songs of the Underworld saga) and it made me just yearn harder for a different adaptation of the Odyssey in Epic haha because I think that that song, if taken out of context (so ignoring everything else that happens in Epic) maybe could have been a song that represented Odysseus in a more "just" way?

Before continuing, I gotta say that I've read only some excerpts and some analysis of the Odyssey, so what I'm about to say might be very wrong haha (but that's why I'm sharing my toughts with you, cause I'm curious to know what you think about this)

Anyways, I think it would be actually a nice song related to him, I really like how he shows empathy towards his "enemies", after all, if I didn't read those scenes wrong, he does the same in the Odyssey. When he enters Polyphemus' cave, even if he knows he might be in danger, he still decides to follow xenia and give Polyphemus a chance to show hospitality (even if it doesn't work out), he is also shown to give Calypso sympathy, when he is about to get home, and see things from her point of view (even after all she did to him). So I think it's a good moment of self reflection for him, it shows that he is not in search for enemies but he just wants to go home.

Even the way he talks about Poseidon, saying "Or does he keep us in check so we must respect him / And now no one dares to piss him off?" I think it does reflect in a way what the Odyssey, or just any myth, tries to warn men about, respecting gods and nature because they are bigger forces that cannot be contrasted (which is very ironic if interpreted like this, because the last saga shows us the exact opposite lol)

And the last verse too "Does a soldier use a wooden horse to kill sleeping trojans cause he is vile? / Or does he throw away his remorse and save more lives with guile" I think it could go along with what you say in this analysis, that he makes decisions that others cannot to save as many people and lives as he can (even if he doesn't get many results,,,) and it also highlights how some people say that he played "dirty" with the wooden horse, but here it makes you realise why he did so, and that his plan is as honorable as attacking directly is.

The only thing that I think is kinda out of place in this interpretation of the song is that here he says that he still has to become "ruthless" to save his men, thus becoming a "monster", which I feel undermines what I said until now, that is that what he did, what others tought was "playing dirty", is actually that, an unjust plan.

Anyways, all this just to say that your analysis have been plaguing my mind and I keep thinking about a different version of Epic, and this song absolutely dealt a blow on me because, it has potential!!!! And yet, it's not used. It makes me yearn so hard for a true adaptation of the Odyssey.

I feel like if one were to adapt the Odyssey with songs, it would be a much better fit a musical series , like hazbin hotel haha (yeah, I want the songs that badly, I love musicals XD)

(Sorry if I started talking about Epic under such a good analysis of the Odyssey, I know that it seems kinda out of topic (and it probably is), but I don't think a comment would have been fit to write all this stuff haha)

Why didn't Odysseus's crew stage a mutiny against him in the Odyssey? (An analysis based on Homer's Odyssey)

It has been a while since the last time I did some Odyssey Analysis and here is an interesting question that goes on in this. A very valid question actually.

During the arduous trip in the Odyssey, the Cephallinians suffered greater loss than anything they suffered at the 10 year war at Troy. They lost almost all ships and all men were dying. They were reduced to a ship of a crew with less than 40 people and they didn't seem to get much hope. So of course one could ask; what was holding them back and didn't fight back against Odysseus apart from the indirect mutiny they did when he turned his eyes away from him to pray? Why their only mutiny was to disobey his orders and slay the cattle of Helios Hyperion? Surely more than 30 men could do plenty of damage to one man right? Why didn't they? And why is it important for the story?

So while thinking about it I came down with some possible explanations as to why that happened;

Odysseus was beloved to the gods

Regardless of their terrible situations, Odysseus probably still had the fame of someone beloved to the gods. He used to be directly communicating with Athena and was under her protection. Despite the fact that he was cursed by a god, there could be some sort of a thought running to their minds; what if we harm him and the gods strike us for it? What if there will be consequences for directly wishing harm to one who was blessed to be appreciated by gods? It could possibly be a risk that they didn't want to take. And it makes sense given how much Odysseus interracted even with minor gods during the trip (for example Aeolus or Circe). Quite frankly they might as well have wished that at some point Odysseus would appeal to yet another god for help.

Odysseus was beloved to his subjects

If you look at my other analysis here You can remember how beloved leader Odysseus was even to subjects such as slaves who in theory would have no real reason to be loyal to him. Odysseus seemed always to be a just and beloved leader and his men on the ship were not an exception. Regardless of whether they had lost faith hin him in his capability to bring him home or if they doubted his judgement, they couldn't get past the emotional connection; Odysseus had protected them during the war to the point of suffering the least possible losses, during the trip he was going to extreme measures to protect them (even the cruel misadventure in which Odysseus cut the rope from his ship to save the last ship from the Laestrygonians might as well have spoken volumes to the men that were saved). It would be hard for them to completely ignore that even in the face of mistrust. Somehow it would also be them thinking that they "owe him" till that part.

Odysseus was hiding stuff from them that could be important

Ironically the very source of their mistrust was protecting Odysseus. Odysseus didn't share with them the nature of the sack of Aeolus even if he seemed pretty clear that they couldn't touch it (and that led to their first tragedies). Later he hid the information that they would have to go through the Sirens till the very last moment where he warned them about it. Later he hid completely the information that they would go through Skylla and Charybdis. His men could think "How many more things did this man know on their way home and hid it from them?" if they captured or killed him in a mutiny how were they sure there weren't more dangers ahead that Odysseus was hiding from them and could either be informed the last moment or not at all? What guarantee did they have that Odysseus didn't know even MORE about their course? They had none. So ironically the very reason they began to mistrust him in the first place became the reason Odysseus was safe from their rage.

No one wanted to take responsibility at time of crisis!

Last and definitely not least comes for me the most important reason of all at least story-wise that shows how excellent writer Homer is into writing human nature. His men didn't stage a mutiny because no matter how displeased they were with his decisions, literally NO ONE wants to have the same responsibility to take decisions in time of crisis! Honestly, how many times do common folk feel themselves find a scapegoat usually to the face of their leaders when things go south? (and for good reason that is given that they are the ones with the responsibility to take decisions). When something goes wrong we blame the leader, the government or someone that has come forth and not only takes the decisions but also is responsible for the blame as well.

During their arduous trip Odysseus took some of the most painful decisions they could imagine in order to save what he could; he advised them to leave the Cicones and they didn't which led to their first tragedy; he tried to correct his mistake by appeasing the god Aeolus, he took the decision to sacrifice his ships in order to save the one he could knowing full well that they would never be able to fight against the Laestrygonians. He knew the 11 ships were lost cause so he acted fast cutting the ropes of his own ship and sailing away, making sure to save what he could even if that meant to the terrible loss. He traveled to the underworld even though he was alive, he chose Skylla over Charybdis knowing that the sacrifice would be too great but still not as great as to lose them all.

Regardless of their emotions at that moment; they put themselves in his shoes and realize that none of them would take the burden of leadership and take those decisions for them. Odysseus with his nerves of steel managed to save them so far even if they had so many losses and undoubtedly they realized that in his shoes they would never be able to act so efficiently and so fast. And knowing their own reactions against him; blaming him for the losses, they realize that none of them would have the guts to take not only the painful decisions but also the blame and hate that follows them. Odysseus was lifting on his shoulder as much hate and anger as very few others; not only his previous experiences at war and his actions but now his decisions of the trip. I have no doubt that even in their anger the men admired how he could carry it all.

Conlcusions:

Homer is a master of words and plot. I have no doubt that if he thought it served the plot he would have mentioned his men staging a full on mutiny against Odysseus or in one way I am almost certain he thought of the possibility being quite doable given as I said above that Odysseys was one man and the others were over 30. However knowing how great he is in protraying human emotions to his writing I think his choice of plot was deliberate.

Not only was Odysseus someone that could erupt not only controversy but also superstition given his close relationship with gods before, his leadership was always admirable regardless of the results (knowing his prudent nature and how plenty of his orders that were disobeyed ended up in a tragedy and let's face it Odysseus was also a brilliant fighter. I doubt anyone would easily take the first step to fight him one on one either!) and above all he was one of the best when it came on taking some really difficult decisions, carrying on his back not only the personal guilt he felt while taking them but also the anger of others and their retalliation. And in an amazingly human writing Homer speaks on times of crisis. When people do not wish to take responsibility at times of Crisis because they know full well that their decisions rarely ever would be painless!

Therefore they couldn't retalliate against him; they didn't want the responsibility of leadership or the blame for the losses. They didn't want to stand against authority directly either. So they took the indirect mutiny decision; when authority is not present they disobey or they break their will when the force of authority.

Could we perhaps one more time appeal to the usual theory of "unreliable storyteller" and speak on how Odysseus doesn't want to mention a mutiny in his story to Phaeakes because he doesn't want to appear as weak leader in their eyes?

We could but in my opinion this doesn't seem likely. Odysseus is already humiliated; shipwrecked and a beggar in their house. He mentioned how it was ellegedly his fault that the whole domino of reactions began when he mentions how he was yelling to Polyphemus being blasphemus that not even Poseidon could put him back together if he had killed him (which let's face it is too much given that gods had no probelm resurrecting some dead before). He had already mentioned his men not listening to him and disobedience was already a heavy thing. He didn't hide most of the unpleasant experiences during the trip so why miss the opportunity of shifting the blame to his men, saying that they stage a mutiny against him thus himself being unable to react instead of stating that he fell asleep during the prayer? To show that his men fear him so they do not dare to face him? Perhaps but it seems unlikely given the whole story in which Odysseus doesn't hide his bad sides from them.

What do you guys think? Let me know to your comments and reblogs below! ^_^

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

Yanno something I don't think is explored nearly enough? Ambrosius's relationship with the Director, and I'm referring to both versions here because they're both interesting in both similar and different ways

For the movie version (I will talk about the comic version on this post too, don't you worry) first of all my pal @walrus150915 wrote an incredible fic exploring this for the NBB please go read it right fucking now, but moving on from that, Ambrosius arguably saw the Director as his mom, or at least a stand-in for his mom.

She was (or seemed to be) a nurturing but authoritative adult who guided him in the role he was supposed to fill. A lot of people like to write her as an overtly nasty bitch in pre-canon fics, and while I completely get that, let's not forget that Ballister, at the beginning of the movie, found it potentially believable that he was her favorite student. He was dumbfounded and devastated to see she had been the one to frame him, he couldn't believe it and never suspected her for a second. I'll talk more about Ballister's relationship with her in another post, but the point is this is an Oscar-winning actress, people!

Ambrosius had every reason to look up to her and believe she cared about him. And she went from (in his perspective) treating him with patience, kindness, sympathy and respect, to trying to MURDER HIM.

You don't just get over a parental figure doing something like that to you (then oh yeah, promptly fucking d y i n g). The pain, the loss of realizing someone you loved and trusted was never who you thought they were (after he'd been battling those same feelings about Ballister) and never really cared about you as a person, it would be devastatingly traumatic. Like poor guy what the fuck. He had to cope with that WHILST trying to repair his broken relationship Jesus Christ

And that's not even getting INTO the comic version, which I will be getting into now. There's a big difference between the two and I think that's in no small part due to the timeframe. C! Ambro has been under the Director's thumb a full 15 years longer than his counterpart. This gave her time to exert more control over him, and also gave him time to grow more aware of her behavior. M!Ambro and the Director have the relationship of a person and their (non-sexual) groomer, while C!Ambro's relationship with her is more overtly that of a person and their abuser.*

She's regularly seen threatening him, threatening to have his loved one (Ballister) killed if he doesn't obey her thereby forcing him to do things against his will (like murder a child), insulting him, and showing him absolutely zero sympathy or kindness, even when he's seriously harmed. I think Ambrosius would, by this point, know that the Director isn't a good person and that she doesn't love him, but she's had much more time to sink her claws into him.

He's not going to leave her. This life, being the Champion, working for her, it's all he knows, and it's all he has. Where is he going to go, back to Ballister? Ballister hates him (because the Director took measures to isolate Ambrosius from him) and he's worked for the Institution his whole life. He knows the Director is bad, but he still trusts her. This is the devil he knows, at least, so by the time the story takes place he at least feels confident that they have a mutual understanding.

I imagine it took time to get to this point. He saw her as a mentor and spent most of his life desperate for her approval. After the joust, I can only imagine this got worse. She was all he had, and he'd do anything to prove himself worthy of the championship title he knows deep down that he stole. He probably saw her as a real friend for a long time, no matter how obvious she made it that the feeling wasn't mutual, and that he'd have to try ever harder to earn her praise.

What I'm saying is this man spent fifteen years under the boot of his abuser, then after fifteen years of grooming and psychological abuse she threw him in the trash, stripped him of his title and everything he'd worked for, tried to have his lover executed, then fucking died. And NOBODY TALKS ABOUT IT??? HELLOO?????

*this is not to say that M! Ambro's relationship with the Director was not abusive, it was, or that C! Ambro wasn't groomed, he was. Simply that for him, the grooming had more time to develop into overt, recognizable abuse.

[apomaro-mellow]

Hawkins Confidential Part 1 of ?

Read on AO3

Steddie; other minor pairings; omegaverse; 1990s

Richard Harrington is dead and finally, as Steve's husband, Tommy is set to inherit quite a lot. Unfortunately for him, there is a condition in the will and that means Steve has to contact the true sire of his pup, Eddie. aka here's that soap opera au i've been wanting to do >:3c

The organ droned as people walked up solemnly and gave their respects.The air was stale except for the few who went without scent blockers, children mostly. And not everyone in high society thought it was prudent to hide their scent. Steve was one of them.

“Everyone can smell your grief”, his mother whispered as she leaned over. 

“I’m grieving. It’s a funeral”, Steve whispered back.

“I know you didn’t care for your father that much. It’s perfectly natural to care about your child but Dustin still has breath in his lungs, thank God. Your father deserves to at least have your respect in death.” She whipped her fan open and fanned herself and Steve knew that was the end of that conversation.

When the procession moved to the grave plot, Steve walked with his mother on one side and his husband Tommy on the other. Tommy had his arm around Steve’s shoulder. A show of solidarity. His father was laid to rest and Steve had a sliver of hope that the leash around his neck would finally loosen.

“It’s our time now, Stevie”, Tommy murmured in his ear.

And Steve knew what that meant. The three of them, his mother, Tommy, and he went to meet with the executor of his father’s will. There wasn’t anything in it that surprised Steve. His mother got what she expected and so did Steve. 

“And to my son-in-law Thomas, who has graciously taken the Harrington name, per our agreement, I leave the entirety of my shares of Harrington Industries, along with my land ownings and the houses in California and Virginia. All this is yours, provided you have had a healthy heir with my son Steven.”

Tommy smirked. Smug and just barely holding back from whooping with glee. He was not wearing blockers so everyone in the room could smell it.

“Well, that’s that, isn’t it?”, Tommy said. “Where do I sign?”

“Not so fast, Mr. Harrington”, the executor held up a withered hand. “Richard Harrington specified a healthy heir. And as I understand, your son is in the hospital?”

Tommy’s smirk fell. “Yeah. But what of it? He’s gonna make a recovery!”

“And when he does, we may sign away. But until such a time…”, the old man trailed off to let Tommy fill in the blanks.

Steve didn’t want to think about his pup not getting better. If he lost his Dustin-

“What happens if they don’t have an heir?”, his mother asked.

“Should that happen, madam, your husband has outlined instructions that I am to keep concealed until it is certain that these two have failed their condition.”

Tommy grumbled all the way out of the office. They were on their way to the hospital. Steve visited everyday, but now he was sure Tommy’s coming along was just to see if Dustin’s health had improved. Steve smiled and nodded to the nurses he saw regularly. It felt almost like bad luck to see his pup when he was still wearing black from the funeral. But he had wanted to see him right away.

Steve could look at Dustin, pale and limp in the bed and knew he wasn’t getting any better. Tommy discussed at length with the doctor outside anyway. Steve could hear his husband getting more and more agitated even behind the closed door. He chose to ignore it for now, grabbing Dustin’s hand and rubbing his knuckles.

“We said goodbye to grandpa today. Everyone came out to see him, even Aunt Seline and you know how she is.”

Of course, the unconscious boy wasn’t responsive. His chest moved up and down slowly. But that was it. Steve sniffed back tears and scent both Dustin and the little stuffed giraffe he kept under his pillow that he thought no one knew about. Steve put it back under the pillow right when Tommy opened the door and crooked his finger for Steve to come out into the hallway.

Steve obeyed with a sigh and walked out, closing the door just in time for Tommy to start raising his voice.

“I can’t believe this! First that cranio bullshit-”

“Cleidocranial dysplasia”, Steve corrected for what must be the millionth time.

“And now this!”, Tommy pressed on. “His genes are shit, Steve.”

“That’s your son!”, Steve hissed.

“That pup isn’t mine! He never fucking was!”

“You’ve been raising him for eight years and all of a sudden-”

“We need to have another child”, Tommy suddenly said.

The air left Steve’s lungs. “...H…what? What’re you-you’re not replacing my pup!”

“If he’s not going to make it-”

“He can! He could!” Steve’s heart was beating rapidly. “He needs an operation and a donor.”

“Then why the fuck haven’t we done that already?”, Tommy growled.

“Because my dad forbid me from contacting the only man who can do it”, Steve glared. “And you said it yourself that if I ever did you would leave me and Dustin out on the streets.”

Tommy looked conflicted, which was new for him. He didn’t always make the most noble decision, but he did always make it quickly. After a moment, he swallowed and nodded.

“Call him and get him here by the end of the week. Or you and I are going to have some marital duties to take care of.”

Steve sighed. The odds were against him and the clock was ticking. They went home together and Steve changed, hoping Chrissy would be at the country club today. He wore a red sweater to combat the fall chill and was glad to see her at her usual table. 

“Chrissy Carver, as I live and breathe”, Steve said, his greeting well practiced.

“Steve Harrington, I wasn’t expecting to see you here today. Come, sit”, she offered graciously.

Carol and Heather were seated too. Carol had been at the funeral. Heather too. Chrissy was the only one who had not attended.

“I’m sorry about your father. My condolences”, Chrissy said.

“She would have joined your family in mourning if she’d gotten an invitation”, Carol said before bringing her cup of coffee up to her lips to sip.

“And we would have appreciated the Carver’s presence”, Steve said. “But my mother…old grudges, you know.”

“I know”, Chrissy nodded with compassion.

“Actually, I was hoping I could talk with you about some of the student events coming up this semester. I think Dustin’s on the mend, which means he’ll be going back to school soon and I wouldn’t want any of the activities to be too strenuous for him.”

“Oh, we can absolutely talk about that”, Chrissy said. “And since this involves sensitive student info…ladies?”

Carol and Heather stood up and walked off, taking their coffees with them. Any other time, Steve would be wary of them finding out. But considering what he was really going to ask, he was sure his secret was safe with Chrissy.

“So what is this really about?”, Chrissy asked.

“I need you to tell me how to get into contact with Eddie.”

Chrissy’s eyes widened and she sat back in her chair. “Oh…wow I…I haven’t heard that name in a while. Steve, are you sure now is a good time?”

“Dustin might not have time if I wait any longer.”

Chrissy took her planner out of her pocketbook and wrote something down. “We don’t talk. Not really. But he keeps me up to date with his numbers just in case I….well, you know, just in case.” She tore the page out and handed it to Steve.

“I hope he answers.”

“He will”, Chrissy smiled, her eyes a little watery. “And don’t worry about the vultures. I’ll throw them off the trail.”

“Thank you”, Steve breathed out.

When he got home, he paced about the phone, trying to work up the courage before dialing. It rang and his heart jumped in his throat only to hear the voicemail message.

“You’ve reached Eddie Munson. I mean, you haven’t but you know what I mean. Leave a message or whatever.”

Steve scoffed, incredulous and hung up before dialing again. He clicked to leave a voicemail but all he could get out what “The nerve!”, before slamming the phone back down. Then he dialed again, knowing he had to leave more information than that.

“You’re a grown man, your outgoing message should be more professional than that, you might as well be using an air horn.” Click.

“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be berating you in the first place, that’s not why I called I…I wanted to tell you….” Click.

Steve moved from the bedroom to the kitchen. He was going to need more alcohol to make this call. He made his next call after two glasses. And then a few more after a full bottle. And then he decided to move on to beer. Steve was awakened the next day by the sound of their chef, Scott, coming on.

“Mr. Harrington, you’ve got to get up now.”

Steve groaned, his head swimming. Then he realized where he was and what time it was. 

“Oh god. Did Tommy?”

“He’s still asleep and he will be until he’s served breakfast. But you’ve got to get.”

Steve had enough sense to be sure Eddie’s number was still on him and not just lying around. Tommy might have urged him to call. But if he found out Steve had been drunk dialing him all night…he didn’t even want to think about it. He went upstairs to change and shower off the stench of beer and wine. He knew he must have really sounded like a fool and could only hope Eddie would parse through the nonsense and get his message.

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

Eddie was surprised to come that night to his phone blinking red, telling him he had messages. He was about to press the button, then refrained.

“It’s probably the shop. And I am off the clock.” He turned the tv on and kicked his feet up, lounging the night away and falling asleep on the couch.

The next morning, he woke up to the phone ringing and picked up. “Yeah? Yeah, hello? I’m up.”

“Hey, how satisfied are you with your current auto insurance?”

“Very”, Eddie said before hanging up. Damn telemarketers. That was probably who left a message yesterday. Eddie pressed the button to listen, ready to just start deleting when he heard that there were twelve new messages. That is until he heard the voice on the other end.

“You’re a grown man, your outgoing message should be more professional than that, you might as well be using an air horn.”

A bit snooty and bratty, just as he remembered it. And then they went on and there was that warmth he remembered too. And then he started to get sloppy and Eddie could tell he’d started drinking.

“The wine bottle’s empty and I don’t feel like goin to the cellar so beer it is. Remember, ‘member when you and I would drink? Do you still like Pabst Blue Ribbon?” Steve snickered on the line. “That time, that time you and I were drinkin’ and we ran out of-god I don’t even remember THAT beer-but we ran out so we a-started drinking PBR and then you panicked because you had your PBR and Wayne had his and we had drunk his and so we were gonna make beer cheese soup for him but then we had to use more PBR and we were high too so we thought Wayne was gonna kill us so we just sat in his room and waited to be punished?”

Eddie most certainly did remember nights like that. His chest tightened, wondering if Steve was just calling him because he felt nostalgic when-

“I can’t remember if I told you already why I’m calling. It’s uh…it’s your son. Our son.” Steve sniffed and took a deep breath. “He’s so beautiful Eddie. And I’m-I’m sorry that you haven’t gotten to see how amazing he is. He’s smart. Smart like you. He doesn’t get shit from me except being a wiseass and that’s mostly you too. But he….he’s sick. Our pup is dy-he’s not doing too well. He needs you. He needs a donor and you’re the only one who can help. You don’t have to worry about my father. He’s dead. Please. I know I fucked up but our baby deserves to live.”

That was the last message. Eddie hung up and then ran upstairs to start packing. It’d take him at least a day to get back to Indiana. But if he put the lead out, maybe he could cut it in half. 

“Time for a reunion.”

Part 2 coming soon