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livlaughloveluke · 6 months ago

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ᡣ𐭩 𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗳𝘁 𝗽.𝟭

child of dionysus x luke castellan 🍷

IN WHICH… the man you hate just can’t seem to leave you alone

warning! this fic contains- swearing // alcohol mentions // shitty parents // use of y/n // angst // daddy issues! // spoilers to tlt // probably not book accurate // implied sex!! // no actual smut, but definitely heavy illusions to sex (both characters are 18) // loss of virginity // drugs (medicinal) // blood // reader wears a swimsuit?? // reader gender isn’t mentioned i think // mentions of death/drowning // ends on an cliffhanger!!!

[a/n]-we’re just going to say tlt takes place in 2005, so luke and reader will have been born in 1986. also, incase you didn’t know, Hera doesn’t have any demigods, so her cabin is empty :)

part two is in progress, just wanted to put something out until then. also kinda ends on an odd note because it wasn’t intended to be multiple parts

🎧- night shift by lucy dacus

6.6k words (oopsies)

You hated Luke Castellan above all else.

Coming from you, that was a pretty bold statement, considering that you had a fiery hatred for plenty of things. Whether it be people who smacked their gum too loudly or ignorant gods who brushed off their children with no remorse, everything seemed to unwillingly ignite a spark in you. However, someone in particular really seemed to piss you off.

The mere sight of his stupid curls and even stupider scar hadn’t always awakened such a burning rage in you; in fact, he used to do the opposite. He was fourteen when you first met him.

April 13th, 2000

Luke had been placed into the chaos of Cabin 11, the other campers unfazed by a new demigod living with them as they carelessly bumped into his shoulder while playing tag. Old magazines scattered the wood floors, and dust covered the edges of his scrappy bed. With a sigh, he threw his bag onto the floor and escaped the overwhelming sensations provided by his siblings.

The light tour Chiron provided was seemingly useless as he mindlessly waltzed down to the lake, unsure of another quiet space to go to. He performed a quick glance around to ensure he was really alone, and then plopped down onto the rocky shore with a groan. Without his father and now Thalia, he wasn’t sure if he’d survive a night at this bullshit camp.

“You okay?” You emerged from the woods, staring at him with a concerned expression. He jumped slightly, startled by your presence since he literally just checked to see if he was alone. “Oh, uhm, yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it?” You asked, noticing the way his tone was so unconvincing while sitting down next to him and staring out at the view. It wasn’t typical of you to be so welcoming, but you had recently received dessert privileges back after getting them taken away for punching some Aphrodite girl, so a cheery mood was accompanied. He glared at you, slightly annoyed by the way you interrupted his moment of peace. But then again, you weren’t really bothering him, so he figured you could stay. You were also breathtaking, so how could he shoo you away?

“No.” Luke replied honestly after a moment of silence, a slight grimace decorating his features while thinking about his long past.

“Fair. I’m sorry about your friend.” You said, your voice filled with empathy rather than pity as you kept eye contact with the horizon despite the cooling wind that turned your eyes glossy and ruffled your neon orange shirt. “Thanks.” He muttered as the memories flooded his mind, to the point where he had to clench his teeth together so he wouldn’t cry.

“I’m Y/N. Child of Dionysus.” Turning around, you offered a friendly smile until you realized he had his head buried into the crook of his elbow and emitted gentle sniffles. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. Did I say something? I’m trying to work on it, I swear-“

“Does it ever get easier?” He interrupted, although his request came out muffled as he whispered into his skin.

“Well… sorta.”

“Sorta?”

“You get used to the whole Greek God thing, I guess.” You reply, avoiding the question he was clearly implying about his father being present. It wasn’t one you typically liked to talk about, along with most of the other campers with daddy issues. The truth was, you hated the gods for abandoning their children, but speaking out about that would have some brutal consequences. Let’s just say you would lose more than just dessert privileges for a week.

“I’m heading down to the bonfire; you should join.” You said after another long pause of silence, standing up and dusting the particles of sand that had collected on the bottom of your denim shorts.

“Okay.” He stood up, wiping his eyes, and followed you as you hiked through the trees.

“So, why were you stalking me again?” Luke spoke up with a sarcastic tone, stepping over the large tree trunks that had fallen down onto the forest floor.

“Woah, I was not stalking you, newbie.”

“Sure looked like it when you magically appeared out of the woods.”

“Well, I wasn’t, okay? Mind your business.” You snapped, the caring facade slipping away as you stared at him harshly enough to pierce his heart.

“Jeez, sorry.” Luke looked down at his feet, feeling a little guilty for being too pushy with practically a stranger. After seeing his suddenly reserved body language, you stopped the hike and faced him.

“Don’t apologize.”

“What?” His gaze averted back up to meet your cold expression.

“Don’t apologize. I was being a bitch. Stand up for yourself.”

“Uhh..” Luke was now extremely confused, looking around as if this was some sort of prank show with the way you switched up so fast.

“Let’s try again. I’m gonna say the sane thing, and you’re going to stand up for yourself. Kay?”

“I don’t-“ He started, but was quickly interrupted by you.

“Well, I wasn’t, okay? Mind your business.” You repeated from earlier, making your voice sound even ruder as you dramatically exclaimed.

“N-no? Is that what I’m supposed to say?” He questioned, still nervously glancing around and searching for some sort of explanation or another person hiding in the undergrowth to reveal it was a silly joke. You raised your eyebrows in disbelief at his terrible performance, blinking slowly as you scoffed.

“Oh gods. It’s not what you say; it’s how you say it. Be more confident.” Stepping back, you repeated the sentence again. “Well, I wasn’t, okay? Mind your business.”

“No.” Luke said, this time with more pride, although he kept staring at you for a sign of approval. “Good!” You supportively with a grin, turning to continue your walk. And after a sassy eye roll, Luke followed behind.

“Just trying to protect you from the Ares kids. They can be assholes.” You happily explained, a little too cheery for someone who just snapped at him.

“Yeah, okay.”

Luke knew he should be bothered by your interesting behavior. I mean, most would, but deep down, he liked how you were empathetic in such a strange way. It made him feel human, instead of like a tourist attraction that people whispered sweet nothings to and stared at curiously.

“Don’t take anyone’s shit, and soon enough you’ll be swimming in kleos.” You stated, swaying with every step and providing plenty of hand gestures.

“Kleos?”

“Glory. Everyone here is basically fighting to be respected.”

“Oh. Shouldn’t everyone just be respectful?” He obliviously asked, ducking under a low, hanging branch.

“They should, but they aren’t. But with glory, it makes you important. People sit up when you walk in the room; stay out of your way; things like that.”

“Wait, so I just have to stand up for myself, and suddenly I’m all important?”

“Sometimes. Usually, though, you have to major in some skill. Archery, sword fighting, healing, etc. You been claimed yet?”

“Yeah, Hermes.”

“Oh.” You replied, dissatisfaction noticeable.

“Oh??” Luke questioned, offended and sounding a little more rude than he intended.

“It’s not really a bad thing. Just different demigods are usually good at certain stuff. With Hermes, they typically tend to be good liars.”

“What’s your talent?” Luke asked, causing you to go quiet for a minute while thinking.

“Well, I’m really good at poker. That’s about it.”

“You’re a good talker, too.” He said, causing you to shoot him a threatening glare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you give decent advice, and you’re pretty welcoming. That’s a plus.” He instantly backtracked.

“Half of the camp would disagree with you on that. Turns out hostility doesn’t get you the best reputation.”

“You’re hostile?” Sure, you may have had a little anger management problem, but hostile? You seemed sweet enough to Luke, at least.

“I don’t talk to all the newbies like this.”

“Then why me?” Luke, from his understanding, wasn’t special. He didn’t stick out. He wasn’t super hot, smart, or funny. He was just average, in his opinion.

“Dunno. Why not?” You said, which wasn’t entirely true. He just seemed different, like he was hiding more beneath the surface. Similar to a puzzle that you needed to solve, except if you didn’t, you’d be burdened with a painful itch of curiosity for the rest of eternity.

“Hm, Fair. But what should I try to achieve kleos?”

“Don’t go for archery or healing; the Apollo kids will smoke you. Maybe sword fighting? I could show you the basics sometime.”

“Sword fighting it is.”

May 21st, 2001

"Where were you during arts and crafts?" You asked while sitting down next to Luke at lunch, clearly irritated by his absence during this morning's activities.

"I was-" He tried to explain, but you had already taken his hands and begun to inspect them, your touch shutting him up. You huffed in annoyance while gently tracing over his callouses and cuts.

"You were training again."

"I just needed more practice. I didn't mean to-" He started, feeling remorse for not showing up, but you were there to quickly interrupt him.

"Save it. I have bandages back at my cabin; let's go. It's the least you can do for leaving me with your siblings all morning." You slammed your hands on the table, standing up and practically dragging Luke to follow you (he would have followed even if you didn't force him).

Once a long distance away from the pavilion, you brought up a topic he wasn't the most comfortable with. "Training to prove yourself?" He swallowed back his anger, not wanting to lash out at you, despite the fact that you could obviously take it.

"Maybe I am. Who cares?"

"I do. Stop caring about the gods so much."

"Easy for you to say. Your father's here." Luke mumbled mockingly under his breath, barely above a whisper, but you heard.

"I'm not sure he even knows my name. He's a drunk dumbass, not exactly great dad material." This shut him up, his gaze traveling to the dirt floor until you reached Cabin 12. Silence and tension filled the air as you opened your backpack, scouring for the gauze and anticipatant. Gripping his wrist with a rage-filled force, you carefully rubbed the Neosporin over the red cuts and wrapped his palms with the stretchy material gifted by an Apollo friend.

"Don't say I don't care about you. You know I do." You whispered, breaking the quiet atmosphere and filling it with fiery love.

"But he doesn't."

"So?"

"He's my father. He should."

"You should stop focusing on what you don't have. Working yourself to the bone won't improve your relationship."

He didn't respond, not having an argument or a sassy comment whipped up, because you were right. He manufactured this mindset that if he was good enough, if he had glory, Hermes would finally notice him and would finally love him. However, there was always a little voice in the back of his head that made him doubt all of his hopes for a family. You just amplified that voice like a microphone.

"And you left me alone with your brothers. Bleh." You smiled, trying to lighten the mood a little while tying off the first bandage.

"C'mon, they aren't that bad."

"You should have heard how they were talking about Julia from Aphrodite Cabin."

"Ew." He laughed, looking at you while you concentrated on wrapping his last hand. You looked so stunning like this, with your pearly teeth peeking between the skin of your lips and your eyes squinting while focusing on making sure it was perfect. He was truly a dumbass, focusing on the gods while you were right in front of him. "Done." You said while tucking in the end of the gauze. He hinged his hand open and shut a few times to make sure it was sturdy, and of course it was.

"Thank you." Luke praised you, not just for patching him up, but for caring.

"Anytime. Hey, I made you something during arts and crafts." You dug through your plastic junk drawer, clinking around all the junk in search of something specific.

"Hm?"

You snatched up a small beaded necklace from the drawer before extending your hand and showing it to him. It was crumpled up, the flimsy string intertwined with itself and the beads out of order, so he picked the jewelry up and awed at the handmade piece. It was wooden beads painted in deep burgundy paint with your first name spelled out in Greek letters, strung on black elastic.

"It's gorgeous." Was all he could manage to utter out, still starstruck by the thoughtfulness of your gift.

"Thanks. We should probably get back to lunch before it's over." You replied, and for the first time in Luke's year of knowing you, you look flustered. You nervously glanced down at the laces to your shoes and fiddled with your fingers, even swaying from the tips of your toes to the back of your heels.

"Yeah, yeah." He agreed, slipping the necklace on and walking out with you behind him. For the rest of the day, he was all smiles and giggles, with others unsure of why he was in such a good mood. Until the inky night sky swallowed the bright blue light, and nightmares came with it.

Most demigods were prone to the occasional bad dream, but Luke was a frequent victim of Hypnos’ curse. Every other night was filled with images of losing what he loved, but he was too embarrassed to talk to someone about it, so he suffered silently.

That night, the dreams were particularly horrific, to the point where he awoke covered in sweat and probably some tears, too. His mind debated whether or not sneaking out and waking you up was a bad idea, but the thought of staying awake alone in his bed another minute scared him more than any profanity you could throw at him for interrupting your “beauty sleep.”

Tiptoeing silently outside the hot cabin, his heart pounded as he traveled to your room next door. He was still in flannel pajama pants and an old tee shirt with some vintage band plastered on it, the chilling wind erupting goosebumps.

Luckily, your bed was right next to a window, which he promptly (and quietly) tapped on to wake you up. A few groans and twists later, you slid open the glass and gawked at him.

“Luke, what the fuck are you doing?” You whisper-yelled, praying to the gods none of your siblings woke up and started bitching.

“I had a nightmare.”

“You woke me up at two in the morning because you had a nightmare?”

“Please, I just need someone to talk to.” Hearing the desperation and seriousness in his voice, you couldn’t possibly reject him, no matter how tired you were.

“I’ll be out in a second.”

Sliding the window shut, you slipped on some sandals and exited to see Luke, who was standing on the porch.

Walking down the steps with him tracking behind, you waited until you were isolated by the lake to talk. “Everything okay?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been having really bad nightmares lately, and I know that sounds stupid, but I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Have you tried talking to the Apollo kids? It’s not rare for them to deal with insomnia.”

“Well, no. It’s humiliating. It’s taken me a year to talk to you about it, and you’re my best friend.” Luke skimmed past the term ‘best friend’, unsure if you felt the same. It was stupid; you were definitely his best friend, but what if he wasn’t yours?

“First of all, it’s not. But I don’t mind talking to them. I can say I’m having nightmares, and they’ll probably give me melatonin, and then I can give it to you.”

“You’d do that? Smuggle drugs for me?” He spoke softly, the moonlight enchanting his features.

“Course. You’re my best friend.”

December 27th, 2002

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You yelled at Luke in the empty Hera Cabin, angrier than ever. Word had spread to you like wildfire of a quest Luke had accepted, despite the fact it was a suicide mission.

“Listen-“

“No! You told me you didn’t care about the god’s approval anymore. And now you’re going on some bullshit quest?! You’re a fucking dumbass.”

“I just need one chance to prove myself to him.” He pleaded, begging for you to understand and forgive him, even though he knew you weren’t the “forgive and forget” type. Honestly, he was about 80% sure you were still holding a grudge against him for stealing the dessert off your plate three months ago.

“Why aren’t you happy where you are? You’re the best swordsman at camp in three hundred years; half the girls here are in love with you, and everyone practically worships the ground you walk on!”

“I don’t care about them.”

“Do you not care about me, either?” You spoke softly, which was a dramatic shift from the heated yelling a few seconds ago.

“What? Of course-“ Luke cared about you more than anything— more than himself or any silly god. It wasn’t very far-fetched to assume that he even loved you, although his anxious self would never admit anything of the sort. But this quest was a dream of his, and it wasn’t possible for him to just give it up.

“Whatever. I’m done with your bullshit.” You cut him off and stormed out, leaving him to watch you walk away with an aching pain in his heart. That wound was left open as he set out for his journey that night, along with two other campers who were slightly underqualified.

The quest went to shit the minute they left camp’s solace, with monsters attacking from every direction. However, he and his companions were able to make it to the guarded tree with only a few minor injuries.

Until Luke reached for the golden apple and was sliced by the dragon who protected the fruit. Blood gushed out of the cut that decorated his eye as he stumbled away. The loss of blood and shock caught up to him, and eventually he lay in the arms of his friends, fading in and out of consciousness.

The idea that your life flashes before your eyes when you're near death is indeed true. Memories of previous years flooded his brain, from his childhood to his teen years (which mainly consisted of you). As the light faded away, all he could think of was how he never admitted his love to you and how your last interaction with him was an argument.

The next time he awoke, he was in the camp infirmary, dazed as he slowly blinked the sleep away from his eyes. The teenage nurses yelled at him as he slowly stood up and deliriously walked outside, but he couldn’t care less. He just wanted to see you and apologize. His near-death experience was a wake-up call, a sign that what he was feeling towards you wasn’t just friendly admiration.

Luckily for him, you were waiting for him outside, sitting on a wood bench as you anxiously bounced your leg. As he stumbled out the door, you immediately stood up and rushed towards his weak body. What caught him off guard was the way you hugged him instantly, wrapping your arms around his torso while burying your head in his chest. For the first time in days, you were able to breathe, inhaling his musky scent rapidly. The fight had taken a toll on you. You lied awake at every night scared out of your mind that he would die hating you.

“I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things, I was just angry at you for leaving me, but-” You rammbled into the cloth of his shirt, the vibrations on his skin making his heart flutter.

“Don’t apologize.” He said with a loopy smile, making you laugh with relief while remembering the first time you met. His original plan of confessing his love to you the moment he woke up with a dramatic spiel was immediately thrown in the trash as he looked at you from above. The worries of ruining this magical friendship you had spent two years building overtook the joys of the possibility that a new relationship would blossom. So for now, he was comfortable being friends with you. Best friends.

The stares from others went unnoticed, Luke too enchanted by your warming touch to see the way others gawked at him from afar, like he was a monster. Not until the next day, when he wasn’t drugged, at least.

When he looked in the crowded bathroom mirror the next morning after plenty of rest, it almost scared him. His gash was a beaming red with dried maroon blood on the edges and a violet hue discoloring the nearby skin. Swallowing nervously, he did his best to clean it up with warm water before rushing to the picnic tables for breakfast, where you sat munching on cereal.

“You’re the most brutally honest person I know. How bad is it? Like, can I even show my face anymore?” He blurted out, causing you to glance up with a slight panic. After a few seconds of consideration, you replied.

“It makes you look badass.”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely. Go get something to eat and come back to talk to me.” Luke responded with a nod, heading off to grab a quick breakfast. With a tray of pancakes in his hand, he returned and sat down across from you.

“So?” You waited eagerly for some explanation of his trip.

“It went like shit. You’re right, I’m not good enough.”

“Woah, I never said that.”

“You implied it.”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant you shouldn’t rely on your successes or failures to determine your worth.”

“Same thing.” He retorted with a scowl, stuffing his mouth with food.

“Not even close. So, what’d you learn?”

“That I need to train harder.”

“Holy shit, you are a dumbass.” You said with a long blink and a theatrical sigh.

“Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure. How’s Annabeth?” Annabeth and you were always so different, but somehow that made you closer. She spent her hours strategizing and acting like an adult, and you spent yours playing games and wishing you were younger. Regardless, she was like a little sister to you.

“She’s… like usual.” Luke replied with a crinkle of his lips.

“Mm, so she’s still forcing herself to be an adult at nine?”

“Yeah, just about.”

“We should get her to play poker with us one night. Help loosen her up a little.”

“Not a chance.”

March 19th, 2003

You and Luke stood side by side, anxiously waiting for Capture the Flag to start, while Chiron yapped about the rules. You’d already heard the whole spiel of instructions multiple times, so naturally you grew bored, and your mind wandered off to the boy beside you.

He looked like a true warrior, with his pointy metal helmet that somehow sharpened his features. Over the past few summers, he had grown significantly, and the puff on his cheeks had thinned out. Needless to say, he wasn’t short of admirers.

You painfully watched as hundreds of girls fawned over him and even began to dread getting ready in the bathroom because of how many praises were thrown at him.

Luke sensed your annoyance from afar, although it wasn’t hard to notice by the way you scowled every time someone approached him with a new compliment. However, he thought you were just envious of the praise he received. In reality, you felt threatened, like someone would steal your spot in your best-friend-who-sometimes-flirt-with-each-other relationship with him. He would never let it happen though, even if you weren’t aware.

“Let the games begin!” Chiron yelled, snapping you out of your daydreaming session.

“You take the east side of the forest, I take the west, we meet up in the middle, right?” You wanted to confirm the Athena cabin’s strategy with him, to which he replied with a quick nod.

“Mhm. See you on the flip side.”

“See you on the flip side, Castellan.” You both turned to the different small groups that you were leading, setting out on foot to start your plan.

Annabeth and a few other geniuses had spent the past two weeks carefully crafting a flawless plan for today’s Capture the Flag game. You and Luke would attack, traveling into their side of the woods, while the rest would defend.

While you might not have been the best swordsman, you were a master of trickery and deception and decent at fist fighting. Plus, you had a solid team backing you up.

“So basically, we just need to fight some of the red team and then meet up with Luke and his group in the middle. Kay?” You instructed to your acquaintances, who diligently followed behind you as you hiked through the evergreen trees, until you saw a few of the other team lurking around. With a surprise attack, you were able to defeat them, with little of your squad lost in the process.

You kept on trekking through the dark depths of the forest before spotting some of the best members of the red team, specifically Sam from Ares cabin.

They were the biggest asshole around, and extremely cocky for someone who was the second-best sword fighter in camp. Plus, they were always trying to get in your pants, along with every other counselor who was old enough. To be frank, they were super hot, but you weren’t interested in anyone currently. Well, anyone who wasn’t Luke Castellan.

Knowing you wouldn’t win this battle, you shuffled to the bushes and silently watched while thinking of a good plan.

“Nice try. Up. Slowly.” Sam said unexpectedly, causing you to sigh with frustration and calmly stand up, along with your teammates.

“So, you can either give up now and save yourself the trouble, or we can do the whole fighting thing and eliminate you that way. Your choice.” They stated with a smile, only egging you on.

“What a little bundle of joy you are.”

“Hm, okay, fighting it is.” They sliced for your stomach, the metal of their blade clinking with the iron of your breastplate. You were stunned at first, but immediately charged back while his goons attacked your friends.

The sound of swords slicing and heavy grunts filled the woods, alerting Luke, who was a decent distance away. Most of his teammates had been eliminated, so now it was just him and one other member. He lightly jogged to the scene, not caring too much.

Meanwhile, your group was putting up a solid fight, but so were they. You clashed swords relentlessly with Sam, while your teammates suffered a bloody battle. In a mere minute, all of your team had surrendered, but so had all of Sam’s team.

With every second that passed, your efforts got messier and energy your got lower, and it was apparent this wasn’t going to be your victory. With one clean slice, Sam nicked your arm violently, and you let out a scream in response. Unbeknownst to you, Luke heard your pain and panicked, changing his pace from a careless jog to a speedy sprint. His partner yelled at him, confused, but Luke just kept going, despite his muscles that ached like fire.

You grew exhausted, now just weakly defending yourself from every attack. Seeing how unfocused you became, Sam took this opportunity to swipe your feet with his leg and send you tumbling to the ground, disarming you in the process.

Both panting heavily, they shakily brought the blade to your neck and stepped on your torso to prevent less squirming.

“You’d be a lot hotter if you weren’t such a bitch.” They said, and before you could come up with a witty reply, Luke had charged from behind. Slicing at Sam with adrenaline-fueled anger, he instantly knocked them down to the floor.

“Don’t ever talk to them like that again, or I’ll seriously fuck you up. Okay?”

“Okay, Jesus! What are you, their boyfriend or something?”

Luke wasn’t sure how to reply, so he didn’t. Was this too protective of him? No, he was just helping a friend. Right?

“Just say you surrender already.” He mustered up.

“Fine, I surrender.” Sam mumbled, and Luke took his sword away while they fled. Then, he turned to you, who was watching the whole thing from the floor.

“Holy shit, thank you.”

“Anytime, sweetheart. They hurt you?” He replied with a grin, helping you up with his right hand.

“Nothing bad.” You responded, twisting your arm to get a glance at the cut. He winced with empathy while grabbing your wrist so he could get a better glance.

“Ouch. Go to the infirmary. It’s bleeding a lot.”

“Whatever. Go get the flag, trooper.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. With a sly salute, you both headed your separate ways. Luke had a pep in his step as he jogged to the bright flag, forgetting all about his partner, who was somewhere in the trees far behind him.

You headed to the nurse, getting it cleaned and patched up easily before setting off to the lake. Sitting on a pointy rock, you waited mindlessly for this stretched-out game to end. Technically you were still in, but your match with Sam was enough fighting for the day.

Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long, because Luke emerged from the forest a few minutes later carrying a gleaming red flag with pride.

Standing up, you cheered with excitement as you ran up to him, squealing like a little girl. He stopped in front of you and dug the pole into the rocky shore with a grin. Still in awe, all you could manage out was a toothy smile in reply.

“Congrats, Castellan.”

“Eh, it was no big deal.” He joked, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Whatever. Bonfire tonight!!” You laughed and made sure to yell out the last sentence for all of your teammates, who whooped with glee.

When the sun drifted down the horizon that night, you and dozens of campers headed down to the shore, where a sparking fire raged. The flames danced as you sat around, scattered on different logs. You currently sat on the floor next to Luke while he sat on the wood, leaning your back against the dead tree and ever-so-slightly brushing up against his legs.

Everyone had noticed your change in attitude over the last few years. You seemed bubblier and more happy because, well, you were. Falling in love with someone who had a chance of reciprocating feelings was heaven. Every long stare from across the room and gentle touch made your skin crawl with adoration. Maybe you should tell him. But why ruin everything?

As the night stretched on and the violet sky dissipated into a jet black that was freckled with stars, you grew sleepier. And after the third yawn in only ten minutes, you decided it was time to hit the hay.

“Okay, I’m calling it quits. Night guys!” You stood up before turning to Luke.

“Goodnight, Luke.” You whispered in such a caring tone that he felt shivers down his spine. Speechless, he watched with hearts in his eyes as you walked away.

“At least try and be discreet.” One of his friends laughed as soon as your figure went unseen.

August 2nd, 2004

“Absolutely not. No way!” Annabeth yelled at you.

You, Luke, and her all sat on the floor of Cabin 12 playing Uno because apparently gambling “isn’t appropriate for an eleven-year-old.” The problem was that you liked to make up your own rules, while Annabeth strictly stuck to what was written in the instructions.

“Beth, everyone plays this way! Just take your six!”

“If your friends jumped off a cliff, would you?” She gave you her signature death stare.

“What are you, my mom? Luke, what’s your opinion?”

“Do not drag me into this.”

“I quit. I’m heading down to the lake, you guys wanna come?” You stated, slamming your mountain of red cards onto the floor and jumping up to search for a bathing suit in your dresser.

“I have archery training.” Annabeth said, grabbing her stuff and walking out.

“I’ll go.” Luke replied a little too eagerly.

“Okay. Meet me at the docks in ten?”

“Sure.” Using his bandaged palms to push off the wood floor, he left to go change.

Slipping into your black swimsuit, you threw a baggy shirt over it and skipped down to the shore, where Luke was waiting with his feet in the icy water.

“Hey.” You alerted him of your presence while sliding off your cover and tossing it down beside you. His breath hitched, and he couldn’t help but gawk at the slivers of your exposed skin. Nervously swallowing, he weakly replied. “H-hey.”

Ignoring the way he stuttered and stared, you jumped into the cool lake. The blue water engulfed you in a refreshing embrace, rolling off your skin as you emerged from the surface.

“I’ll race you to that buoy over there.” You pointed to the white float that bobbled up and down.

“Deal. Winner gets loser’s dessert for a week.”

“Deal.” You took off before he was even in the water, pushing off of the wood dock to accelerate forward.

“Cheater!” Luke yelled playfully before jumping in and following your path.

Eventually, he caught up and even reached the buoy first, grinning triumphantly as you paddled towards him.

“I hate you.” You mumbled, but the beaming smile plastered on your face told another story.

“Fine, you can keep your dessert privileges, but I still want bragging rights.” He offered, not caring a smidge about anything but making you happy.

“Gods, you’re such a good person.” You said, knowing you would have taken his food and flaunted on him for the next seven days.

“Race you back?”

“Fuck no. I’m tired.”

“I’ll carry you. The waters not too deep; you can sit on my shoulders while I walk.”

“You’ll drown.”

“I’m pretty ripped; I think I can manage carrying you one hundred yards.” He jokingly replied with a flex of his bicep, which was definitely appreciated by your wandering eyes.

“Sure. I’m not saving you if you do end up drowning, though.” You climbed onto his shoulders, and he gripped your calfs to help stabilize you and because he really just wanted an excuse to touch you.

“That’s a pretty badass way to die.” He said while trailing through the fresh liquid.

“To die while swimming through five-foot-deep waters?”

“Well, not when you phrase it like that.”

“How would you phrase it?”

“Glorious hero meets his fate at the lake with another counselor’s thighs wrapped around his head.”

You both froze with shock when he uttered his suggestive remark, even Luke not realizing his mistake until after. He felt his cheeks go hot and nervously tried to apologize for making you feel uncomfortable.

“Oh my gods, I swear I did not mean-“

You cut him off with a deep and angelic laugh, clearly not hurt by his poor choice of words.

“You’re a dumbass.” You choked out through heavy giggles, and he instantly relaxed upon realizing you didn’t think he was a complete pervert. Every laugh you released was like a weight off of his shoulders, and that was when he knew he could not shove his feelings down anymore.

Hours had passed, and you two ended up watching the sun fall by the lake while sharing a cherry red and white striped blanket. Not a word was whispered as you rested your head against his shoulder, his curls dripping onto your skin. He couldn’t help but smile as he felt your slow inhalation of the crisp air.

Once night arrived and the cicadas started chirping, it was finally time to break the comforting silence.

“I’m gonna go shower.” You said while slowly standing up and letting the towel drape off of your body.

“Me too.” Luke replied, getting up and placing the towel back on your shoulders so you wouldn’t have to brace the chilling breeze in a swimsuit. As you walked away, he couldn’t help but stare.

“Wait, I need to talk to you once you’re done. Meet me in the Hera Cabin after we’ve showered?” He called out after you, to which you nodded in response.

He needed to confess how he felt about you immediately, or his chest might actually explode. He needed to tell you about how his heart raced every time your touch lingered a second too long, how he ranted to Annabeth every night about the things you did that made him swoon, and how he was madly, head over heels, in love with you.

Once the musk of lake water had fully washed off, you headed to the infamous empty cabin, where Luke was waiting. His hair was still wet from the shower, causing his curls to separate, and he fidgeted with his fingertips while anxiously waiting for your arrival.

“You okay, Castellan?”

“No, I’m not, actually. I need to tell you something, like right now.” He stuttered out, his lip crunched up like he was in pain.

“You’re scaring me a little, but I’m all ears.”

“I love you.” Luke blurted out, the tension in the air increasing significantly with just three words.

“What?” It seemed as if the world had stopped, even the birds quieting down for a listen.

“I’m in love with you.” He repeated, like it was no big deal, like it was second nature.

“You love me?” You whispered out, almost like it was unheard for you to be loved.

“More than anything.”

You swallowed, thinking for a second while he awaited a response.

“I love you too.”

With the conformation of your words, he leaned in until the tips of his nose rubbed against yours. His lust-coated eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips, making it apparent what he wanted. Luke breathed in your fresh scent heavily while watching and waiting for a reaction—for you to pull away or do something.

Trailing a hand up into his hair, you delicately pushed his head until your lips met. His skin was honey-sweet as you gingerly kissed; it looked like something out of a romance movie. He forced himself to be a gentleman and pull apart after a few seconds, no matter how much he wanted to kiss you until his oxygen ran out.

Looking up into his eyes, you craved more. This built-up tension between you two was finally erupting, and it needed more than just a little kiss to be satisfied. So, you took charge and feverishly leaned in for more.

His hands cusped your cheek, carefully avoiding any boundaries you might have set up. That was until you snagged his bottom lip with your teeth, and he lost all self-control. The sweet kisses turned into a full-blown make-out session as he steadily snaked his hand down your torso and to the fat of your ass.

Only breaking for air when absolutely necessary, passion filled the atmosphere, along with hushed moans from the both of you. Luke warily trailed his hand upwards to your chest, and you could tell where this was heading. Panting, you removed your lips from his and spoke up.

“I’ve never.. I’m still…”

“Me too. Do you.. still want to?” He revealed, his heart racing while still daintily grazing your skin.

“Yes. Please.” You desperately nodded, like death was approaching if you didn’t continue. With that, he laid you down on the squeaky mattress of an unused bunk bed and hovered over.

“Gods, you look stunning.”

୨୧

part two in progress…

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#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan x you #luke castellan angst #liv’s writing !#pjo series

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swirly-strawz · 8 days ago

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some doodles of Samadhi Fire MK

If you’re interested in my ramblings about this ⬇️

I wanted to explore the angst that this AU would have and I’ve thought about a bunch of things

1. Guilt

Oh boy, where do I even start? Everyone’s a mess in this, with MK being the biggest mess. I’ll ramble about the ones I thought about.

For MK, he feels guilty about losing control since the others are in a close radius. He screamed his problems out on Wukong, lashing out and crying. What’s worse is that his mentor even walked through the flames for him, getting some burns in the process. The hug was short but it’s what he really needed at the moment.

Wukong feels guilty, his student was screaming about how he felt abandoned because of HIM. Wukong swore to protect MK and yet there he was, crying, raging, burning, etc. He apologizes for leaving him alone, for not being there for him as he walks through the red and purple flames, towards MK. His heart broke as MK shoved him away, looking at him with eyes filled with defeat and sorrow before flying away.

Mei hates herself for not being the one to step in and help her best friend. It took her a few minutes in this disaster to do something, to be there for MK like she always have. But before she could act on it, Wukong swoops in and goes into the fire. Mei wishes that she was hugging MK at the moment when the flames disappeared, not for long though. She runs after MK, reaching out before he leaves a red trail behind as he flies into the sky.

Tang was the one who finished the ritual, who inflicted such unimaginable levels of trauma upon his son. Why did he do it? Why did he listen to the shadow monkey? How could he? He felt so sick, the Samadhi Fire is not something that can be tamed. It can burn anything and anyone, even immortal beings. Pathetic. Useless. Horrible. Responsible. He doesn’t know why no one blames him for what happened, sure they didn’t know MK is the fourth ring, but he’s still the one who caused this to happen! How can he trust himself anymore when he bears the hands that afflicted pain upon his son?

2. Pressure

MK would feel more pressure on his shoulders, now that he has this burden to carry. He learned enough so that the Samadhi Fire is more docile and less chaotic. But that isn’t enough! After the event that occurred in the ritual area, he’s still processing this life. His mind is scarred. He’s so frustrated, he could hear LBD laughing and taunting him at the back of his mind. Why is this so hard?! He’s the Monkie Kid! The world is in danger! He can’t rest right now! If he doesn’t control the fire, the world will burn because of him! Everyone will die!

3. Aftermath

I think after S3 in this AU, MK wouldn’t be as cheery and energetic as his canon self. He would act more as if he just got punched in the gut. Like how Mei acted more rash, impulsive, and impatient, MK would be more on edge, tired, short-tempered, not to the point of being an asshole though. I think he also would be more stressed because of the trauma he faced from the Samadhi Fire. Even when he fully wields it, he’s afraid of accidentally losing control again. MK is more prone into acting feral and pissed off as S4 proceeds. He would lose his shit faster when Azure reveals his true plan.

#spicynoodleshipping #lmk spicynoodles #lmk mk #lmk red son #lmk fanart #lego monkie kid #lemme know what you guys think

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paigegonerogue · 2 months ago

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Analyzing the new trailer instead of doing schoolwork because it’s more important than my future.

HBO logo on blurry backgrounds… oooooh, it gets me so hyped.

”David? I knew a David once. He was a weird little queer boy.”

“Seems like we’re talking about different David’s, then…”

Catherine O’Hara is a therapist/Jackson resident confirmed! No sneaky editing here!

They love each other so much😭 Can’t wait to see this guitar lesson❤️❤️

Gah, this scene is gonna break me😭❤️ also holy heck this set design!

I think this person is Ellie, since you can see the fur on the hood of the jacket. The person next to her on the lighter horse is most likely Dina, then.

The porch scene😭 also I’m not sure how anyone can think Bella doesn’t look 19 in this, because the weariness of our little Ellie is absolutely heartbreaking💔

“Don’t mind me, just washing the blood off my knife knife”

I believe this scene is during the infected attack, since they’re wearing the same clothes.

Also, this isn’t Tommy’s eye injury, I don’t think. However, because of Maria’s eggplant jacket we can see that it’s her in this scene:

Maria’s favorite is eggplant purple confirmed??

This is the scene from the promo shots that were released. You can tell because of the setting and Ellie’s outfit.

Abby mourning her dad. So psyched to see Kaitlyn Dever, watch Dopesick if you haven’t!

Craig Mazin: Oh, you wanted more infected did you? Huh? *spits* Fuck you! I’m the boss! Here’s your fucking infected!

Pretty sure the gun is Joel’s… hahahaha I’m gonna die hahahaha

Going back to the first horsey picture, this is probably Dina and Ellie, with Dina on the lighter horse.

First close-up look of the Scars!! Wooooooo!!

Well this is terrifyingly AWESOME

I just love Ellie’s little hair curl here

Tortured Seraphite and Jeffrey Wright looking incredibly scary. Love it.

This is the infected attack on Jackson, probably. Same type of walls and the snowy environment.

🎵Scars burning alive, you know how I fee-ee-eel🎵

It’s September, take your damn Santa hat off, dead-boy. Also, this is the train sequence for sure. At least that’s what I got judging from the red lighting and… the fact they’re in a train…

I think this is Joel, judging from the general physique and facial hair. Also BELLA STOP YOU’RE GONNA KILL ME!!

Joel loves his coffee❤️

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tibby-art · 6 months ago

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there is one more question that is eating at me. last one for now. take ur time to answer ofc <:] and i understand if u want to wait to reveal some details in a format other than an ask lol

im curious about any possible side-effects of grian's watcher abilities, especially since these abilities are newly-acquired and unpredictable. does he get watery eyes? partial/total blindness? vision abnormalities? hot/cold flashes? sweating? dry cracked skin around the eyes? migraine/headache? nausea? numbness/loss of physical feeling? loss of balance/dizziness? at which point do side-effects happen (if any), can grian burn out? if watcher abilities are used too much.

absolutely, i’ve pictured him getting frequent headaches/migraines, dizziness, and nosebleeds when she overexerts herself. if things get too bad he can pass out, which is unideal, especially because i think he gets really weird dreams after becoming a Watcher

i like to think of the watcher powers like being able to access a less-corporeal reality, where things like physics aren’t as set in stone. kind of like if you were able to /gamemode spectator in real life, but doing so is incredibly overwhelming and the line between physical planes gets a little blurred and can’t be switched on and off so easily. it also reminds me of this game i used to watch lets-plays of as a kid called Beyond Two Souls where you play as this sort of spirit that others can’t see, you’re tethered to a girl and you can do things like move/break objects and phase through walls to see things that she can’t, but because you’re tethered you can’t stray too far from her and you both get exhausted by using your abilities too much

grian grounding himself when things get overwhelming isn’t that difficult, though! i think i’ve said this before but scar lets grian hold jellie often because petting a cat is a great way to stay grounded and focused in this reality

i hope that makes any sense lol. i’ve had some art in the works but i’ve been too busy with The Zines™ to work on it much :’D which is why i wrote instead lmao

#asks #convexian hitman au

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sunsetcougar · 19 days ago

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Lyrebird AU!

With Adam absolutely no help, and in fact now actively rooting for his girlfriend’s insanity, Lucifer and Charlie are forced to return to the hotel empty handed. Charlie immediately goes to check on Vaggie, hoping at least somebody is feeling okay. She’s healing well, all things considered. She’s bed bound, but Lucifer said that’s not at all surprising. It took him quite a while to recover after he Fell. Since Lilith was also incapacitated he’s pretty sure it was only their immortality that kept them alive.

Vaggie’s feathers burned during her Fall, so she’s grounded until she molts and they regrow. She actually has quite a few burns across her whole body that’ll probably leave some scars.

She’s also got a wicked, ongoing migraine, the source obvious from the two horn nubs she now sports. Plus the itch along her back, shoulders, and arms from new feathers growing in isn’t pleasant. She’s finally letting her tail feathers grow again as well, instead of plucking them like she’s done since she was originally cast out.

But overall she’s healing well, and isn’t as bad off as she could be.

Charlie decides that if they can’t make Heaven stop, she can at least warn her people. So she uses her royal status to get a segment and goes on 666 News, warning all of Pride about what’s coming and begging them to either run or come stay at the hotel. Once she delivers that message all she can do is watch the clock on the Embassy tick down and hope that for once in their existences her people listen to her.

#Lyrebird AU #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel au #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel vaggie #chaggie

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galaxygirl-katie27 · 2 months ago

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Rio/Merag Redesign

Click for better quality!

More notes about the Redesign under the cut!

-Okay, first of all- BURN SCRAS. Queen was so long in the hospital after her fire accident, completely wrapped in bandages and there is literally nothing showing?? No, girl is a survivor and it shows. If the writers decide to put her in the hospital for like 75% of her screen time, then at least show the consequences that came out of it. She also can’t completely open her left eye anymore. It’s not blind, she just can’t completely open it.

-She also has PTSD from the incident and is afraid of fire ever since. She can stand it with loved ones around, but she‘ll never go alone near a fire again, because it gives her major flashbacks. (Rio isn‘t the only barian with PTSD. Honestly I think all of them have it, some more so than others for different reasons.)

-She is also officially a jock girl. We saw her rock every sport possible at school. I think in my redesign, she wouldn’t be in the drama club, but in a sports club, like football or basketball (probably even being captain). And for those wondering what her shirt says, it says „Heartland Academy“. The 48 actually being related to her star Merak.

-Although she is a confident queen, she still has some demons to deal with and isn’t really comfortable with showing ALL her scars (hence the sport leggings under her shorts). It actually took her a lot of time to go out again after being released from the hospital. But with the help of her family, especially Ryouga and Durbe and her friends, she‘s slowly healing.

-I also headcanon her as a lesbian. I confess to being a Rio x Anna shipper. Especially after seeing prompts and fanart of them bonding over burn and explosion scars. Love me some mechanic and jock lesbians.

-I think the Greek nationality explains itself, since she‘s Ryouga‘s twin. So if you want my reasoning for that, check out my Ryouga/Nasch redesign.

-Of course she has the sibling ring and the friendship bracelet with Ryouga and Durbe.

-Now to Merag. I tried to make her look like her barian form and also using lighter colours for her, since I used darker ones for Nasch. Also gave her the tiara she has in her barian form, because she is ROYALTY.

-I also gave Merag actually short hair and a long veil, to kinda give the illusion of long hair, because back then it was unusual for women to wear short hair. But she wanted it short, because she also practises sword fighting. Durbe was teaching her in private. She‘s actually better than Nasch at it and always kicks his ass in (sword) duels. This could also be a reason, why Rio is so frustrated at losing to Ryouga in card game duels. Because her soul was so used to winning against him.

-SHE‘S AN ORACLE. She was bestowed the gift of foresight by Apollo. She gets visions of the future. It’s mostly why she became head priestess. She also got them way less, when being reborn, because she and her soul had to get used to regularly getting future visions again. They could be big visions, like enemy‘s approaching or just small things. Like in the middle of doing something she suddenly spaces out before saying: „Oh my Abyss, Vector is going to fall down on the parking lot in 10 minutes, I gotta see that-“

#yugioh zexal #barians #zexal #rio kamishiro #rio kastle #merag #marin zexal #Merag zexal #redesign

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theetherealbloom · 3 months ago

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AS GOOD A REASON - CH. 2 | OBERYN MARTELL

Chapter Two: Let The Dance With The Devil Begin

Summary: You, who has made it her life's work to get retribution on those who mistreated and harassed you when you were a child. The scars on your body are a physical reminder of the suffering you endured at the hands of abusers, and they also provide the fuel for your years-long quest for retribution.

Paring: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, MINORS GO AWAY, GoT is full of serious and harmful topics, mentions of SA, Rape (not the reader), Murder, Violence, Gore, War, Poison, Scars, Burns, Scratching, Su!c!de, AU, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, Eventual SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Blood, War, Religion References, Nudity, Domestic Abuse, Incest, Prostitution, Weapons, Fire, Horror, Character Deaths, Rewrite Alternate Universe, Sex, Alcohol, Revenge

Word Count: 7k

A/N: Omfg. I took so long to write this I know T^T Thank you for being patient with me! I just decided to have a mini break bcs I was jet lagged from travelling and had to focus on my health for a little bit.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: The Albatross by Taylor Swift

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RED KEEP, WESTEROS - 300 AC

You spent two decades carefully avoiding forming deep bonds, all the while meticulously plotting your revenge. You studied their weaknesses, habits, and relationships, patiently biding your time until you could strike from close range.

You had noticed the lingering glances between Cersei Lannister and Jaime Lannister, their whispered conversations turning into passionate encounters. So when Cersei bore a child, rumored to be the result of her incestuous relationship, and as you witnessed Joffrey Baratheon growing into a likeness of his parents, you recorded every detail in your leather-bound notebook. It contained all the information about those responsible for the death of Elia Martell, ensuring no detail escaped your scrutiny.

Serena, a girl you befriended in the bustling stables, is a steadfast ally in your quest for vengeance. Together, you both meticulously gather intelligence, weaving through the whispers of the kitchen staff and the secrets shared in the shadowy corners of brothels. With her keen eyes and your shared determination, you stalk those who have wronged you, laying the groundwork for your calculated retribution.

In the heart of the Seven Kingdoms, the struggle for power rages on. Joffrey Baratheon, seated upon the Iron Throne, wields authority backed by the formidable House Lannister. However, his claim faces challenge from his uncle Renly, who, bolstered by the might of House Tyrell, presses his own bid for kingship. In this turmoil, Tyrion Lannister arrives in King's Landing, aiming to assert control, only to find himself at odds with his conniving sister, Cersei, now entrenched as Queen Regent.

As autumn blankets the realm and whispers of an impending winter linger, Westeros braces for the bitter cold ahead. Yet, instead of preparing for the harsh season, the land remains conflicted. Renly Baratheon's sudden demise alters the tides of allegiance, leaving the political landscape in flux. Meanwhile, Joffrey, with the backing of House Tyrell, emerges victorious in a decisive clash against his uncle Stannis, solidifying his hold on power.

The fates of many hang precariously in the balance. In the labyrinthine corridors of King's Landing, both Tyrion Lannister and Sansa Stark navigate treacherous waters, their survival dependent on their ability to navigate the perilous currents of court intrigue.

You had served Sansa since the day she was first betrothed to King Joffrey. Back then, she had been full of dreams—visions of knighthood, love, and a golden crown. But those dreams quickly soured, turning into nightmares as the Lannisters’ hold over her tightened. What was once a promising union became a gilded cage. They kept her in the Red Keep, a prisoner beneath layers of silk and politeness.

Sansa clung to her “lady-like” pursuits to distract from the harshness of her reality—sewing, embroidery, poetry, and music. Her stitches were always delicate, her voice soft, yet behind her graceful demeanor, you saw the cracks. You were there when Septa Mordane led her through the Red Keep’s throne room for a lesson in history. It was meant to be a glimpse into the glory of the Targaryens and the rulers of old, but instead, Sansa’s gaze lingered on the dark stain where her grandfather and uncle had been butchered by the Mad King. Her face paled, and she pressed her lips into a thin line, haunted by the ghosts of her own blood.

One evening, as she sat embroidering by the window, she confided in you. “Do you think I’ll be able to give Joffrey sons?” Her voice wavered. “What if… What if I’m only able to give him daughters, like Jeyne Poole’s mother?”

You tried to find reassuring words, though even Septa Mordane's attempts had done little to ease her fears. “You’re young, my lady. You will bear many children in time.”

Her blue eyes, wide with fear, met yours, but she said nothing more.

The Hand’s tournament arrived, and Sansa, despite everything, seemed to sparkle for a brief moment amidst the finery of the lords and knights. You stood in the shadows, watching her as she watched them. Ser Gregor Clegane, The Mountain, was a towering presence, and you felt a chill run down your spine as he unseated Ser Hugh of the Vale, killing him in the dust of the joust. Littlefinger whispered dark stories to Sansa of the Hound’s past, tales of burned flesh and brutal lessons. You saw the way Sansa’s hands trembled as she absorbed the horrors hidden beneath the chivalry.

Yet, there were moments of fleeting happiness. Ser Loras Tyrell, the famed Knight of the Flowers, gave her a single rose before his tilt with Ser Gregor. She blushed under his attention, but you noticed how Loras’s gaze lingered not on her, but on Renly Baratheon, who stood just behind. That small act of kindness, hollow as it was, brought a rare smile to Sansa’s lips, even as the court applauded Sandor Clegane’s intervention to stop his brother’s rampage.

But that brief joy was drowned by the darkness that soon followed. When King Robert Baratheon died after a hunting “accident,” everything unraveled. Eddard Stark, honorable as always, tried to reveal the truth about Joffrey’s parentage, but it was too late. You weren’t surprised when Littlefinger betrayed him. You had seen the cunning in his eyes long before, the way he played everyone like pieces on a cyvasse board.

Chaos erupted. Eddard’s men, loyal to the last, were slaughtered by Lannister guardsmen led by Sandor Clegane. You remembered Mordane’s voice trembling as she urged Sansa to lock herself in their chambers. But there was no hiding from the Lannisters. They took her.

You watched from a distance as Sansa was humiliated before the court, her innocence crushed beneath the weight of Cersei’s cold cruelty. She stood there, trembling, and you saw the beginning of a transformation. The girl who once dreamed of knights and love was slowly breaking, her innocence being stripped away by every sneer, every command, every cold laugh in the throne room.

You wished you could offer her comfort, but in King’s Landing, comfort was as fleeting as mercy.

The great Sept was filled with the hum of whispers, the heavy weight of tension hanging in the air as Eddard Stark stood before the court. His face, weathered by years of honor and battle, now looked hollow, beaten by betrayal. You stood in the shadows, where servants always stood, your eyes flicking between the high lords and the northern Warden. As the silence fell, Eddard knelt, acknowledging his so-called “crimes” and pledging loyalty to King Joffrey.

For a moment, it seemed the court might breathe again. Sansa stood nearby, her hands trembling. Hope flickered in her eyes—briefly. But Joffrey, perched on the Iron Throne like some twisted boy-king out of a nightmare, leaned forward with a smile sharp as a blade. His words fell like a thunderclap. “Bring me his head.”

Sansa's scream cut through the hall, raw and broken. She lunged forward, hysterical, her voice lost in a storm of pleading, but the gold cloaks restrained her, forcing her back. Her cries—“Please, mercy, mercy!”—rang in your ears, making your stomach turn.

Ser Ilyn Payne stepped forward, cold and unfeeling as he drew Ice, the greatsword of House Stark. You could see the light catch the edge of the steel, and the last thing Sansa saw before she fainted was her father’s final, resigned glance.

You moved through the chaos as a shadow. Your duty to Sansa came first, so as the blood pooled on the Sept’s floor, you carried her from the carnage, her limp body heavy with grief. The days that followed were hollow. She barely spoke, her eyes vacant as you tended to her, making sure she ate, dressing her in the Lannisters' silks even as her soul remained buried in sorrow.

It was one of those somber evenings when she finally spoke, her voice so faint you almost missed it. “Do you… serve the Lannisters?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You paused, setting down the tray of untouched food, meeting her tired gaze. “Yes, my lady,” you answered softly.

Sansa’s eyes flickered with something—confusion, maybe anger. “Have they always been this cruel?” she asked, her words trembling with an innocent horror.

You weighed your response carefully, then nodded. “From what I’ve heard, unfortunately, yes.”

Her lips parted as she considered your answer, but it was her next question that cut deeper. “Then why do you serve them?”

You lowered your eyes, your hands folding over the fabric of her gown, the lie of your position hanging heavy on your shoulders. “It’s something I wager on,” you murmured, your voice steady despite the unease in your chest.

Sansa, always perceptive, frowned. “Is that the only kind of wager you make?”

For a moment, you froze. Then you let a faint smile tug at the corner of your lips, the words “Unbowed, unbent, unbroken” echoing in your heart, though unspoken. “There was one time I bet my entire life on something,” you confessed quietly.

She looked at you then, truly looked, her tear-streaked face searching yours. “Did you win?”

Your smile faltered, but you met her gaze with a spark of determination. “I’m planning to,” you said, with a quiet promise hanging between the two of you.

KING’S LANDING, RED KEEP — 300 AC

The stone walls of the Red Keep felt colder that night, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows on the ancient stones. In a small, dimly lit chamber tucked away from the grand halls, you worked in silence, the weight of your plan pressing down like the calm before a storm. Every movement was deliberate, each thought sharper than the edge of a Valyrian blade. The game was already in motion, and you were setting the pieces in place.

You had long been underestimated—a mere servant, a shadow in the background of the powerful Lannisters, Tyrells, and Martells. Yet, you had seen the truth: the most dangerous players were often those who remained unseen. You were one of them, a silent force, blending into the background while carefully planting the seeds of destruction. The poison, subtle and undetectable, was your weapon.

A soft knock interrupted your focus. The door creaked open, and there stood Petyr Baelish—Littlefinger himself. His thin lips curved into a smile, but there was no warmth in it, only calculation.

“Ah, a quiet place for quiet minds,” he murmured, his voice smooth as silk, eyes darting around the chamber before settling on you.

You raised your head slowly, meeting his gaze with a calm that belied the storm brewing inside you. Littlefinger wasn’t a man easily intimidated, but neither were you. Two wolves circling, each looking for the other’s weakness.

“You seem to find yourself in many quiet places, Lord Baelish,” you replied, voice soft but pointed. “What brings you here?”

He moved closer, his steps light, like a predator stalking prey. “Just ensuring the right wheels keep turning, ensuring the chaos that follows serves the right cause.” His gaze lingered on your hands, noting the fine movements as you handled a small vial, the liquid within almost imperceptibly shifting.

You allowed a small, knowing smile. “Chaos... Chaos can be useful. But only if it’s controlled.”

His eyebrow raised, amusement flashing in his eyes. “Controlled chaos? Now, that’s an art.”

You carefully set the vial down, your voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone. “What if the chaos that’s already simmering were to boil over? What if, after Joffrey’s wedding, his reign came to an... unexpected end?”

Baelish didn’t blink, though you could see the subtle change in his posture, the slight narrowing of his eyes. You hadn’t suggested anything outright—it was the art of planting the idea, the delicate balance of nudging him without him realizing he’d been led.

He took a slow breath, his mind already racing. “And who, I wonder, would have the audacity to arrange such an unexpected end?”

You smiled, but didn’t answer directly, your silence speaking volumes. Instead, you moved the conversation forward, allowing the implication to sink in.

“The realm is already full of hungry wolves, my lord,” you said, your voice steady, your hands working deftly as you began to clear away your tools. “All it takes is a nudge in the right direction, and they’ll tear each other apart. No one will stop to notice who did the nudging.”

Littlefinger tilted his head, studying you for a moment longer. “Perhaps,” he mused, his tone as noncommittal as ever, “but wolves are tricky. You can never be sure which way they’ll turn.”

“That’s true,” you conceded, meeting his eyes directly. “But I’ve always been good at reading the pack.”

The silence that followed was heavy, each of you measuring the other, testing the boundaries. He wouldn’t act on your words immediately. Littlefinger was too careful, too meticulous for that. But you could see the spark in his eyes—the idea was there, planted, waiting to take root.

With a nod, he turned to leave, but paused at the doorway. “You have a dangerous mind,” he remarked, half admiration, half warning. “Be careful. The pack bites back.”

You gave him a knowing look. “Only if they see the one holding the leash.”

Days passed, and as you moved through the grand halls of the Red Keep, you watched everything begin to fall into place. Like a silent puppeteer, you pulled the strings without ever needing to step into the light.

Varys had been busy, moving pieces on the board that even you hadn’t expected. Ros had whispered in his ear, and soon after, Lady Olenna Tyrell had been brought into the fold. The whispers of a marriage between Sansa Stark and Loras Tyrell spread through the castle like wildfire. You had always known Varys to be a man of schemes, but even you marveled at how quickly he moved.

In the gardens, you overheard the conversations as they unfolded—subtle, quiet, but filled with power. Lady Olenna, with her sharp wit and keen mind, was already orchestrating her plans, likely envisioning a future without Joffrey’s cruel reign.

You stood in the shadows as Littlefinger passed by, his expression unreadable. He had heard your suggestion, and though you were not directly involved, you knew the idea had taken root. He would set things in motion, ensuring the chaos that followed would serve him—and you would remain unseen, untouched by the blood that would soon spill.

RED KEEP, WESTEROS – 301 AC

The War of the Five Kings dragged on, but within the Red Keep, the battles were far subtler, fought with whispers and veiled threats. Your life as a servant under King Joffrey's reign had grown increasingly unbearable. Between the relentless demands of court life and the constant fear of his cruelty, you found little time to care for yourself.

Your headache throbbed—a reminder that you hadn’t eaten since dawn, and the long days had begun to blur into endless nights. It wasn’t uncommon for you to push through these spells, but this time felt different. The world around you grew heavier, your limbs sluggish, and the gardens seemed far away.

Basket in hand, filled with fruit from the kitchens, you trudged through the Red Keep's gardens. The bright afternoon light stabbed at your eyes, worsening the pounding in your head. You tried to focus on your task, but each step felt more labored, and a cold sweat broke out on your skin.

As you rounded a corner near the overgrown hedges, your vision blurred. The world tilted. The cobbled path beneath your feet shifted into an unforgiving blur of stone and soil, and with a muffled thud, everything went black.

In that hazy in-between of consciousness, a voice pulls you back—familiar, though distant. “He would have liked you,” Princess Elia’s voice echoes in your mind.

“Whom do you speak of, my lady?” you had once asked her, back when the Red Keep still buzzed with life and not dread.

“My brother. Oberyn. He’s trouble, but even so, I love him dearly.”

For a brief moment, you can almost feel her presence, and the weight of the past rushes over you like a cold wave. You blink, pulling yourself out of the memory just as a different voice fills your ears. A deeper one, full of curiosity and something unreadable.

You woke slowly, your senses coming back in fragments: the scent of crushed grass, the cool air against your skin, and the distant murmur of voices. Your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the filtered sunlight through the leaves overhead.

"Careful. Don’t rush."

The voice was deep, tinged with amusement. A hand—warm and strong—rested on your shoulder, gently holding you down. You blinked, focusing on the face above you, unfamiliar yet striking. Dark, sharp eyes, framed by lustrous and black with only a few silver streaks recede from his brow into a widow's peak. The emblem of a red sun pierced by a golden spear embroidered on his tunic caught your eye.

Oberyn Martell. The Red Viper of Dorne.

“Are you injured?” His voice held a soft curiosity as if you were some puzzle he intended to unravel.

You shook your head, still disoriented. "No, I... I must have fainted."

He raised an eyebrow, glancing at the basket of spilled fruit beside you. “It seems you’ve been overworking yourself. King Joffrey’s court, I assume? They’re not known for their kindness.”

A rush of embarrassment warmed your cheeks. You scrambled to sit up, but Oberyn’s hand remained firm.

“Take your time,” he said, his tone softening. “Even a servant deserves a moment to breathe.”

You weren’t used to kindness, especially not from someone of his stature. His reputation as a fierce and dangerous man preceded him, yet there was something else—an air of compassion, albeit hidden beneath his sharp edges.

“I’m... grateful,” you murmured, unsure of how to respond. “But I should get back to my duties. They won’t—”

Oberyn interrupted with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Let them wait. The Lannisters have their claws in many, but even a viper can strike when the time is right.”

There was a pause, a subtle shift in the air between you and Oberyn Martell. His gaze lingered a little longer than necessary, and though his words were casual, they held an undercurrent you couldn’t quite place. It was as though he saw something deeper in you, something more than just a servant tending to her duties. Fate, or perhaps something far more dangerous, had drawn his attention to you.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he stood upright, his dark eyes gleaming with a playful intensity. "You Dornish are known for our... passions," he said, his voice a low, deliberate purr. "But it seems fate has a way of placing beauty in my path, whether I ask for it or not."

You blink, unsure of how to respond, heat rising uncomfortably to your face. He stepped closer, his presence both magnetic and overwhelming. His fingers brushed lightly against your wrist, lingering there a moment longer than propriety would allow. "Tell me," Oberyn continued, his tone playful yet edged with something deeper, "does a woman like you often find herself fainting at the feet of princes? Or is this a rare occasion?"

Your breath hitched, panic flaring inside you, though you did your best to suppress it. Affection—let alone attention—was something you were unaccustomed to. His flirtation was like a wildfire, threatening to burn through the careful walls you'd built around yourself.

"I... I don’t..." you stammered, trying to pull your thoughts together, your mind racing. You weren’t used to being noticed, not like this, not by someone like him.

Oberyn tilted his head, his smirk widening as if he could sense the flurry of emotions raging within you. "Don't be shy," he murmured, voice lowering as his eyes roamed over you with quiet curiosity. "I can see there's much more to you than meets the eye."

The words felt like a tease, a challenge wrapped in silk, and your heart pounded in your chest, caught between the instinct to flee or stand frozen in place. Oberyn Martell's gaze seemed to strip away every defense you had carefully built over the years, as though he could see straight through the mask of servitude you wore.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, steadying your trembling nerves. This was not the time to panic, not in front of the Red Viper of Dorne. He was too sharp, too dangerous, and your heart fluttered at the way his presence seemed to unsettle the very air around you.

Without answering the prince’s flirtatious remark, you bent down to hurriedly gather the fallen fruit, your fingers clumsy as you fumbled with the basket. But even as you moved, you felt his eyes on you, watching every motion with an almost predatory amusement.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he crouched beside you, his hand brushing yours as he handed you one of the scattered apples. "You're in quite the hurry," he murmured, the smirk never leaving his face. His touch lingered, deliberately slow as he placed the fruit in your basket.

You rose quickly, trying to distance yourself, but Oberyn stood just as swiftly. Before you could retreat, he grasped your wrist, pulling it gently toward him. His movements were fluid, effortless, as if this were a dance he had long perfected. He raised your hand to his lips, his dark eyes locked on yours, and pressed a kiss to your knuckles—his lips soft, warm against your skin.

Your breath caught, panic fluttering in your chest like a trapped bird. Heat crept up your neck, your heart racing as you tried to pull yourself together, but his touch seemed to set your mind spinning.

Just then, Oberyn’s eyes shifted, narrowing as he caught sight of something—your scars, peeking out from beneath your long sleeves. His brow furrowed ever so slightly, curiosity flashing across his features. He tilted his head, about to speak.

But you jerked your hand away, the sudden movement sharp, almost frantic. "I should go," you blurted, the words tumbling out hastily. You gathered your things, your pulse still thrumming wildly as you turned on your heel, desperate to escape his piercing gaze.

As you hurried away, you could feel Oberyn's eyes lingering on your retreating form, his expression unreadable. Even in your rush, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the prince wasn’t done with you yet.

KING'S LANDING, WESTEROS – 301 AC

The sun hung high over King’s Landing, its golden light casting a deceptive warmth over the cool sea breeze that drifted in from Blackwater Bay. You stood with Marei at the edge of the courtyard, the bustle of the palace below and the hum of the city distant beneath the tranquil air. The garden was alive with color, a stark contrast to the heavy gloom that clung to those gathered at the banquet table.

Shae moved with a quiet urgency, filling a plate with food from the banquet spread. She placed it in front of Sansa, who sat still, pale and lifeless, her face void of any spark. Her slender hands rested on her lap, unmoving. It was as if she had already become a shadow, despite still breathing.

“You need to eat something,” Shae urged softly, her voice carrying both concern and exasperation.

Sansa did not stir.

“Pigeon pie,” Shae offered, her tone gentler now, but Sansa’s pale lips barely moved as she whispered, “No, thank you.”

A sigh escaped Shae, but she quickly turned back to the table, scanning for something else. With a quick motion, she removed Sansa's untouched plate and placed a new offering in front of her. “Lemon cakes?” Shae asked, a glimmer of hope in her voice. Everyone knew Sansa's love for lemon cakes.

Sansa’s voice, barely a whisper, responded again. “No, thank you.”

Shae’s expression faltered. “You love lemon cakes.”

But Sansa remained unmoved, as if the world around her had lost all meaning. Shae’s shoulders slumped in frustration, her eyes flicking toward you and Marei before glancing at the entrance of the courtyard.

Tyrion Lannister entered the garden with deliberate steps, his short legs struggling to match the long strides of the men he was often compared to. His eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the scene with quick efficiency. Despite his stature, you had learned well enough that Lord Tyrion Lannister was not a man to be underestimated. His mind was his sharpest weapon.

“Tyrion,” Shae called out to him with a sigh of relief. “Tell her she needs to eat.”

Tyrion approached the table, offering a small, polite smile. “My lady, you do need to eat.”

Sansa’s gaze remained fixed somewhere in the distance, her hands limp in her lap. “I don’t need to eat,” she said softly, without even looking at him.

Tyrion hesitated for a moment, glancing between Shae, you, and Marei. His expression was measured, patient. “Could I have a moment alone with my wife?” he asked gently, though his tone held the firmness of a command.

You exchanged a quick look with Marei before bowing your head and stepping away. Shae, however, lingered, her eyes flashing with concern and defiance. She crossed her arms, unwilling to yield.

“She needs to eat,” Shae said stubbornly, her eyes narrowing as she looked between Tyrion and Sansa.

Tyrion met her gaze, his expression imploring, but Shae’s frustration was palpable. With one last glance at Sansa, Shae reluctantly turned and left the garden.

Tyrion took a seat across from Sansa, his eyes softening as he reached out to take her hand. His grip was gentle, but firm enough to draw her from her daze. “I can’t let you starve, Sansa,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with quiet compassion.

Sansa didn’t react. She stared past him, her blue eyes hollow, as if the world had dulled to nothing but gray. Shae, now at the far end of the garden, cast a furious glance back toward Tyrion, her anger simmering just beneath the surface.

A FEW DAYS LATER

KITCHEN KEEP, KING'S LANDING — DAY

The kitchen was a chaotic blend of sounds and smells, with servants rushing around, preparing the feast for the garden party. You focused on your tasks, slicing fruits and arranging them neatly, hoping the repetitive motions would calm the unease bubbling in your chest. The Lannisters' garden parties always came with tension—too many eyes, too many secrets.

Serena, ever observant, moved beside you with a conspiratorial smile. Her presence had always been a quiet comfort, an unspoken pact between two women wronged by the same family. She nudged your side playfully, her voice just loud enough for you to hear over the clattering pans and murmurs of other servants.

“Guess what I overheard in the gardens earlier,” she whispered, her eyes sparkling with the excitement of fresh gossip.

You glanced up, your curiosity piqued. “What is it now?”

She leaned in closer, her voice dropping even lower. “Tyrion and Lord Varys were having one of their secret little chats. Something about Shae.” She gave a sly smile before recounting the conversation she’d overheard, her voice adopting a mocking impression of Tyrion's measured tone.

“Lord Varys. Breakfasting with the king?”

Your hands paused over the fruit, recognizing the weight of that simple greeting. Serena continued, now mimicking Varys’ smooth, ever-cautious reply.

“I’m afraid foreigners aren’t welcome at such exclusive affairs,” she quoted, barely concealing a smirk.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the slight smile that tugged at your lips. Tyrion and Varys—always circling each other, testing the limits of loyalty and power. Serena’s impression was spot on, and the dry chuckle she added to Varys’ line brought the exchange to life.

“Oh, to be foreign,” she muttered in Tyrion’s voice before glancing around the bustling kitchen with exaggerated suspicion, mimicking Varys’ quiet amusement.

“Ahem,” she finished with a soft laugh.

The kitchen clamor drowned out any chance of someone overhearing, but you kept your gaze fixed on your hands, focusing on the fruit before you. "What did they say after that?" you asked in a low voice, not wanting to appear too interested but knowing that information like this was often a lifeline in King's Landing.

Serena's smile dimmed slightly as she continued, her tone more serious now. “They were talking about Shae. Varys warned Tyrion that she’s been noticed. That Sansa’s maid saw them together, and it’s only a matter of time before Cersei—and worse, Tywin—find out.”

Your breath hitched slightly. That was dangerous—too dangerous for a place like this.

You glanced up at Serena, who nodded grimly. “Varys told Tyrion his father has promised to hang the next whore he’s found with.”

Your stomach twisted, though you managed to keep your expression neutral. Information like this could be a weapon if used correctly. But it also carried its own risks, especially for someone like you, who lived in the shadows of these powerful people. You simply nodded and whispered, "Thank you."

KING’S LANDING GARDEN, DAY — 301 AC

The gardens of the Red Keep, beautiful though they were, could not ease the tension that clung to the air. The lush greenery and sea breeze seemed wasted on the gathering before you, where cruelty simmered beneath the surface. You moved silently among the servants, pouring wine, offering trays of food, your head low as your sharp eyes observed everything. No one here was truly safe—not even those who smiled and pretended otherwise.

You had learned long ago to watch, to listen, to see things others missed. And here, among the so-called lords and ladies, your simmering hatred boiled just beneath the surface. Revenge had a way of lurking in quiet moments like these, waiting for the perfect opportunity.

At the head of the table sat King Joffrey, his golden crown glinting in the sun like a mockery of all that was just. Around him, the key players of the realm gathered: Queen Cersei, her eyes sharp and watchful; Lord Tywin, stoic and commanding as always; Prince Tommen, innocent and ignorant of the malice around him; and Grand Maester Pycelle, old and leering.

But your attention flickered to Sansa Stark. Pale, withdrawn, her once-vibrant spirit all but crushed under the weight of her suffering. She sat beside her husband, Tyrion Lannister, who, despite his small stature, radiated an awareness far sharper than anyone gave him credit for. The tension between them was palpable, an unspoken grief they both carried.

Your heart tightened as you watched, knowing Sansa's pain was not unlike your own. Like her, you had learned to survive in silence, though your silence was of a different kind. The Lannisters had taken too much from you. They were going to pay for it one day, one way or another.

Across the table, Lord Mace Tyrell puffed out his chest, carrying a gleaming goblet, his voice filled with a pride that bordered on foolishness.

“From House Tyrell and the people of the Reach, Your Grace, it is my honor to present you with this wedding cup.”

He placed the goblet before Joffrey, who barely looked at it, his lips curling into a mocking smile.

“A handsome goblet, my lord. Or shall I call you Father?”

You noted how Mace Tyrell’s face flushed with both pride and unease. He bowed deeply. “I would be honored, Your Grace.”

As Mace withdrew, Shae moved gracefully through the crowd, setting a tray before Sansa. You saw how her eyes flickered toward the young girl, but there was no response from Sansa, no recognition of the kindness that once might have been there.

Then, the sharp voice of Queen Cersei pierced the moment, her words venomous.

“She’s the whore I told you about. The dark-haired one.”

Your blood boiled as you saw Shae stiffen. The insult cut through the air like a blade, but Shae, ever composed, turned to leave without a word. You noticed how Tywin’s cold eyes followed her, narrowing as she walked away.

“Have her brought to the Tower of the Hand before the wedding,” Tywin ordered, his voice devoid of any emotion, yet as sharp as a death sentence.

Tyrion’s face darkened. You could see the concern etched into his features, his helplessness as he tried to control a situation slipping further out of his grasp. Your heart raced, knowing the precarious game being played here—and how dangerous it was for all involved.

Shae’s departure was barely noticed as Podrick stepped forward, carrying a large tome. He placed it carefully before Joffrey, and Tyrion followed, a strained smile on his face as he addressed the king.

“A book,” Joffrey said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Tyrion clasped his hands together, speaking with calm civility. “The Lives of Four Kings. Grand Maester Kaeth’s history of the reigns of Daeron the Young Dragon, Baelor the Blessed, Aegon the Unworthy, and Daeron the Good. A book every king should read.”

For a brief moment, Joffrey hesitated. His sharp tongue seemed to fail him as the weight of the gift hovered in the air. But Tywin’s piercing gaze prodded him, and the boy-king forced a mocking smile.

“Now that the war is won, we should all find time for wisdom,” Joffrey said, his voice laced with scorn. “Thank you, Uncle.”

Tyrion bowed, but the tension between them crackled like a hidden storm.

Before anyone could breathe, The Mountain lumbered forward, carrying a sword swathed in black cloth. He laid it before Joffrey with all the reverence of a knight presenting a sacred relic. Tywin rose, his voice steeped in gravitas as he spoke.

“One of only two Valyrian steel swords in the capital, Your Grace, freshly forged in your honor.”

Joffrey’s eyes gleamed with an almost childlike excitement as he tore the sword from its sheath, its blade gleaming ominously in the sunlight. You felt a ripple of unease roll through the gathered nobles as the blade sliced through the air.

“Careful, Your Grace,” Pycelle croaked from his seat. “Nothing cuts like Valyrian steel.”

But Joffrey’s wicked grin only widened. “So they say.”

In a sudden, violent movement, Joffrey swung the sword down, cleaving the book Tyrion had gifted him clean in half. The sound of tearing parchment and splintering leather echoed through the garden. A gasp rippled through the crowd, but Joffrey was delighted with himself.

“Such a great sword should have a name,” Joffrey declared, his eyes burning with cruel glee. “What shall I call her?”

The crowd murmured suggestions, none of which seemed to please the boy-king. But then, his lips curled into a malicious grin.

“Widow’s Wail. I like that. Every time I use it, it’ll be like cutting off Ned Stark’s head all over again.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You saw Sansa freeze beside him, her face drained of color, her entire body rigid with the memory of her father’s execution. Across the garden, Shae watched, her eyes narrowing with unspoken fury.

You kept your head down, but the seething rage inside you boiled hotter. One day, they would all pay for this. The Lannisters, their cruelty, their arrogance—it would all come crashing down. And you would make sure of it.

KING’S LANDING GARDEN, LATE AFTERNOON — 301 AC

The preparations for the royal wedding between Joffrey and Margaery were endless, consuming the days and nights of everyone within the Red Keep. But while others concerned themselves with the surface duties, your mind was preoccupied with a far more dangerous task.

The thought of the Strangler stones hidden within Sansa's necklace gnawed at you. The pieces were already in motion, each step methodically planned. Your hands moved through the flowers you were tasked with arranging, but your thoughts were elsewhere, carefully calculating the next move in your plot to bring down King Joffrey without implicating yourself.

As you worked alone in the gardens, the late afternoon sun blazed overhead. The sweat clung to your skin, and the heat forced you to roll your sleeves up just enough to reveal the faint, jagged lines of scars that adorned your forearms. The burn scars, remnants of your brutal encounter with Ser Gregor Clegane, were still a reminder of what you endured—and survived. The pain was still fresh, but it fueled your resolve. Spite, after all, was a powerful motivator.

You barely noticed the approaching footsteps until a shadow fell across your path. Looking up, you were met with the sharp, knowing gaze of Oberyn Martell. His smirk was playful, as it often was, but there was something deeper there—an intensity that sent a ripple of unease through you.

"You work too hard," he said smoothly, his voice like silk. "It’s a crime to see such beauty covered in dirt."

You straightened, brushing your hands on your apron, trying to keep the panic from showing. "I have my duties, my lord," you replied, keeping your tone even. The way Oberyn looked at you—intense, almost predatory—made your heart race, though you tried to remain composed.

He crouched beside you, plucking a flower from the arrangement and twirling it between his fingers. His eyes flicked briefly to the scars on your arm, scars you quickly moved to conceal by rolling down your sleeves. But it was too late—Oberyn’s gaze lingered on them for just a moment, something unreadable flickering in his expression.

The way he studied you wasn’t merely out of curiosity, but recognition. His next words carried a weight that hung in the air between you both.

"There are stories... of a servant who once attended to Princess Elia." Oberyn’s tone remained casual, but you could feel the shift, the tension creeping in as he spoke. "They say she escaped the Sack of King’s Landing with her life. Barely."

Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to remain still. You had heard those stories too. After all, you had lived them.

Oberyn leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Some say she vanished, swallowed by the chaos. Others claim she survived through sheer will, fueled by spite." His dark eyes locked onto yours, searching. "I wonder… do you know of such tales?"

The question lingered in the air, heavy with suspicion. You met his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest, but your face remained a mask of composure. "Many stories are told in King’s Landing, my lord. Few of them hold any truth."

Oberyn’s lips curled into a faint smile, but his eyes remained sharp, watching you carefully. "Perhaps," he murmured. "But then again, some tales are more dangerous than others." He stood up, still twirling the flower between his fingers, casting one last glance at your concealed scars. "Sometimes, survival speaks louder than words."

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps interrupted the moment. Ellaria Sand approached, her eyes already on you. There was a possessiveness in her gaze, though softened by intrigue.

“So this is the woman who has caught my prince’s eye,” Ellaria remarked, her voice a low purr as she moved closer, her hand brushing lightly against Oberyn’s shoulder.

You bowed your head, hiding the inner storm brewing within you. "My lady," you greeted, though the tension in the air was unmistakable.

Ellaria’s gaze flicked to Oberyn, then back to you. “She is different,” she said, her tone intrigued, but there was an edge of caution in her words. “I wonder what it is you see in her, my love?”

Oberyn chuckled softly, his attention still on you. “There’s something about her,” he said, his voice smooth, yet laced with deeper meaning. “Something familiar.”

Ellaria looped her arm through his, drawing him closer to her side. “Familiar or not, I trust you know where your loyalties lie.”

Oberyn’s smile deepened, but his gaze didn’t waver from you. "Always," he replied to Ellaria, but his words were aimed at you, and the unspoken suspicion between you both lingered in the air, unsaid but undeniable.

As the two of them moved off together, your heart pounded in your chest. Oberyn's words, the way he had looked at you—he was starting to piece it together. He suspected who you truly were, but for now, he remained silent, watching. You returned to your task, but the weight of his suspicion clung to you.

Everything had only just begun, and you were already in far deeper than you had anticipated. But like the scars on your skin, the memories of your past had shaped you into what you were now. And just like that day long ago, you would survive.

TAGLIST:

@christinamadsen

#oberyn martell x fem!reader #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell fanfiction #prince oberyn #oberyn martell x female reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn nymeros martell #oberyn x you #oberyn martell #got #ethereal writes #pedro pascal

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genshin-squabbles-and-wobbles · 1 year ago

Text

The Enraged Inferno || Part 2

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Character: Diluc

Type: Angst, tragedy, Revenge and Reader in her villian era

Tags: Fem!Reader

Requester: @sailorstar9

Content: Years later, Since the reader's distant relative is Baizhu, it would make sense she would have Dendro healing abilities, as Baizhu have been training you to defend yourself and medically educate you. However, ironically, you were in your villain era, You were angry, you felt robbed. This was trauma without you realizing it. Despite being taught to be a catalyst user, you decided, why in the hell would you even try at this point? You decided, a sword would suit you much better. How would life continue after this?

Trigger Warning: I might be a little violent in this story to stress the Villain Era the reader is in, and also, dealing with trauma so please proceed with caution. I might add cursing a bit, please let me know if you can feel the idea of the reader without the cursing.

Part 1: Here

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You applied medicine to your scars to help ease the sore aches. This medicine was specifically made for you by Baizhu. You rubbed your healed yet scarred wounds with medicine as you stared at them blankly.

"W-What are you doing!? S-Stop! It hurts! W-Why?? AHHH!!"

Those words of your own voice echoed in your head, you clenched your jaw. Three faces burned in your head, you remembered them so clearly. As they were the result of your so called infamous death. You stood up, and took your sword with you. Of course you kept your catalyst weapon with you out of habit.

You walked out your room, and went down to manage the register up front as you rubbed your forehead to help keep a calm your expression. You don’t want to scare customers, and you never intended ruin Uncle Baizhu's business with your own issues anyways. Qiqi was doing her usual things such as organizing the shelfs. You walked to the register, and got ready for the day.

"I'll manage the register today but only because I actually have another job for you, my dear" Baizhu appeared from behind, as he was in the storage room of the pharmacy pulling out fresh medicine in a series of crates.

"Good morning, Uncle. What do you need me to do today?" You walked to him and helped him unload the crates of fresh medicine. You were strong even to carry these crates like nothing, and of course, Baizhu would notice and comment on it, however not this time, since there was another matter at hand to be concerned about. "Well...there is an order that needs to be delivered to Mondstadt. I would like you to do that for me. Our usual deliver men are on break, so I need someone to cover for them. I didn’t find anyone in time, so you are my last option. I apologize for dropping this on you so suddenly my dear. I'll make it up to you."

You looked at him surprised as you remembered-- Baizhu doesn’t entirely know that you faked your death in Mondstadt. He only knew that you almost got hurt and that you needed a safer place to be in. However it had been years, and you have been training to be better in self defense. Out of anger, out of fear, out of revenge. You wanted to taste the days where you get to strangle those servants with your own hands. You know, you practiced, unknowingly to Baizhu. You await that experience to drip in your mouth, as though-- right now, you remain thirsty.

You nodded slowly with your arms crossed, deep in thought. "No worries, I got it, I'll prepare to leave in the afternoon." Baizhu smiled. "Wonderful, thank you my dear. And...I know your mother passed away recently, but...I know she's very proud of you. If only we knew, we could have helped, but your mother isn’t the kind of women to speak up when needed to be" He placed his hand on your shoulder. You smiled, but that was just a mask. You knew that very well with your mother, but don’t worry. That ends with you, you'll be the first women to speak up and scream to let them know who you are.

You especially wanted to dig deeper graves for those three servants, deeper than your own mother's grave. Deeper, to the point of touching hell itself. You'd rather be a criminal then some innocent bystander. You rather cause a shitshow then be in one. You rather cause chaos and sink your hands in those who deserve it. You didn’t care. Jean included. She doesn’t get off empty handed. None of them do. And Dulic...would you rather he pity you helplessly or fear you graciously? I don’t need to provide such an answer do I? Fuck those prissy shits.

Later on, you already left, you bid your polite goodbyes to Baizhu and Qiqi, as you were preparing to take the walk to your homeland. You wonder how life is like on there. You wore dark clothing, black pants, black turtleneck sweater, black shoes, bags under your eyes, as you nightmares of your incident. You used to wear such pretty and light clothes. Such innocent bloodstained clothes. Don’t worry, this time, the blood won’t be yours, and it would never show on black clothing would it? You were walking on your path to Mondstadt, as you were passing Guili Plains.

Some hilicurls spotted you nearby and ran towards you, without hesitation, you swung your sword and decapitated them all in one swing. You placed your foot on one of heads and crushed it under your foot. It was like you crushed a large snail shell. Stiff but with enough pressure, it breaks. You looked at the shielded mitachurl with malicious and murderous intent. Immediately, the mitachurl backed away sensing violence in you. You stepped forward, planning to be merciless and brutal towards it, however with that step, the mitachurl ran away.

"No one will mess with me...no one will take me as a joke. Ever again." You muttered to yourself and walked towards Mondstadt once more. Your lovely homeland.

A day later, you arrived there and looked around. Nothing changed, it was the same. You walked to the person you needed to deliver the medicine to, it was a man named Anthony. The medicine was for his sick little sister named Anna. She had a chronic illness, he is trying everything to help her feel better. Once you bid the man farewell, there was one thing has plagued your mind, what had come of the home you grew up in? You walked to your neglected home, the one you used to live in since a baby. You still had the keys to it. You went to the corner of Mondstadt and saw it, it was the same but had overgrown greenery, however, it was still...home. You unlocked the door and walked in, and saw dust and clutter everywhere. Boxes, and taken down picture frames.

You wondered if your mother was suffering from guilt from sending you away, however, it doesn’t matter now, she was gone. You were gone. Everything was gone.

You sighed. Regret filled your lungs, as you looked at the pictures of you and your beloved mother, as you loved her but you were so angry with her. You cried enough before, but being here makes you want to cry again, this was the home place of your mother. You never really had a father, it was just you and her. Now it's just you. The loneliness is aggravating. You started to go through through the mail, as it had pile up over the months, until you saw a letter that caught your eye. A letter from the Favonius Knights to sell the house since there was no one there paying for it nor the bills in it.

You thought for a moment. Could you perhaps move back in Mondstadt? Take over this home, and maybe, return to a life here. You thought for a moment, then thoughts of Diluc flood your mind, Jean, and her servants. You assumed they married and had children. You felt disgusted. "Hah, bunch of weak backed shit heads. I'll show them." You muttered with a reverge thirsty smile. However, the deeper the smile, the more empty and lonely it was.

You took the letter in your clutch and left. You walked into the Favonius Headquarters, and walked in on Jean in her office. Jean looked up, as her jaw dropped, and stood up. "Y-You..but...you.."

You looked at her unfazed. "Is that really yo-"

You placed the paper in front of her on her desk. "Shut up."

You pointed at the letter. "My mother passed, so I will be taking over the house, so no need to ransack it or sell it" You had malice and murder in your eyes. Yet you were emotionless. You wanted to strangle this women with every inch of your life.

Jean took a step back, startled. "You...You aren’t the same person as before...you...you're different."

You glared at her silently. "Man, if I could strangle you here and now, I would. However, I have better things to do then to waste my time on some waste of flesh here in front of me."

Jean's jaw dropped once again, as she looked at you worried. She took the stamp and stamped the letter with shaking hands. As she is well aware of murderous glare you had towards her. You took the paper and turned to leave. This was not like you. Not like you at all. This wasn’t the person she knew when you two were younger.

"Wait..." Jean stopped you, as you continued to walk out. "Wait!" Jean ran and stopped in front of you. "In case you didn’t know...Diluc and I didn’t get married...so so...you can stop your anger towards me! He voided it and he left. He...He owns a winery now, but I am still trying to get him back and make him marry me! So still consider us engaged! So don-"

"Good for you." You said coldly, and not really feeling like your anger had to be justified to her. You walked passed her.

"Also..." Jean continued hesitantly. "Your boss, Baizhu, said you had another order of medicine, he sent me a messenger about it..." You sighed and groaned with your head tilted back and eyes closed. "Can’t you leave me alone you petrified shithead...?"

Jean was taken aback at your reaction to her, even more that this was from your job, and not even in her control. She was used to you being kind, she was used to being loving and forgiving. No matter what she did to make you hurt and suffer, you always smiled and forgave her. You even wished her happy marriage, this only made Diluc like you more, as nothing seem to faze you. Despite nothing still fazing you now, your kindness was gone.

All you see, is a pile of useless shit in front of you. The downfall of Mondstadt. Jean felt your eyes as such. She sighed and held both her hands up. "O-Okay okay, dear Archons..."

Jean gave you an address to the delivery. "Here, this person ordered medicine just now, you should get it to them..." You took it and left. Jean watched you leave as she felt shivers down her spine. She had a bad feeling about you.

You can finally breathe, it was suffocating in there, like close enough you were about to punch her. But now isn’t the right time for that, there will be a time and place. You always knew that.

You walked back to your now renowned home, as you looked at the address. "Huh...a winery..?" You began making the medicine and preparing it. You then wrote a letter to Baizhu, about you living in Mondstadt and you will expand his business in Mondstadt.

The next day, you looked at the address and walked outside of Mondstadt, and straight to a large mansion placed in the middle of nowhere. "Huh...a big winery...but also a big mansion..." There was a line of grapes crops and a small town nearby. You walked to the door, and knocked. Adelinde, a maid of Diluc answered, as she held the door open. "Ah, thank you for the medicine. We have to sign a receipt that we received it, yes?"

You nodded and held up your hand crafted receipt as you don’t have access to the record papers. It was back in Bubu Pharmacy in Liyue. You needed to keep records of orders in case anything, business rules. Baizhu was smart for that especially when it came to taxes. " You walked in, and looked around. "This all...kinda seems familiar..." you whispered to yourself.

Adelinde opened Dulic's main office, as you walked in with the papers for him to sign, you gazed around his office, then onto him. Diluc has yet to acknowledge you, as you looked at him with a blank face. His hair had grown, he looks more like his father now. He is taller now, he got more muscular now. He dresses more astrostcatic now, despite his attempt to blend in.

You walked up to him without a care for manners or etiquette and placed the paper on his desk. "Please sign for your order." You said, as you wanted to leave as soon as possible.

Just then Diluc looked up at the paper, and nodded. "Yes, one moment." He had an annoyed expression, and then took out a pen to sign. But then he looked up, and his gaze fell onto you, and he paused.

His eyes went wide, as his face went pale. His annoyed expression dropped as he takes in this life changing occurence slowly. He gasp as he immediately stood up and walked to you and pulled you into a tight hug. "I...I thought you were gone..." He spoke in such a desperate tone.

His eyes were shut tight, as tears fell onto your cheek. Finally, a tragedy that wasn’t true. He desperately nuzzled your hair, as he slowly leaned back against his desk while hugging you. You were standing in between his legs, being held against his chest.

You sighed and pulled away using your hands on his chest to push yourself away from him. You looked up at him with a tired and blank face. "Sign the receipt so I can go." You said coldly. He looked at you, confused. This wasn’t the same, kind and sweet woman he knew. "Huh...?" He placed his hand on your chin and gently pulled you to look up at him, and look at your face. "What...What happened to you..?" He looked into your dead eyes and scrutinize your tired face.

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celestialudenburn7 · 2 months ago

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Ngl it's been so long since i last went through Sdra2 properly i had never stopped to think of Emma's character that way? How acting is her life and pretending she's okay is the one way she knows to go about living, itches my brain now, pls ramble more about her I'd listen

Me when I get to talk about my favorite character

Thank you so much for the ask!!

Tw for mentions of physical abuse

To start off, I think it’s actually best to look at her free time events.

Of course, the final of these gives the most insight to her character. However, there are other key traits that show up beforehand.

The first is how Emma doesn’t really have any friends outside of this killing game. She only worked with other adults on sets, and that most likely isolated her from people around her age. In the first free time event, she talks about how she has never talked like this before with another teenager. She’s very used to acting more mature around people, so Sora’s attitude is refreshing for her. At the start of the final free time event, she goes on about how she’s always wanted to do “girl talk”.

Secondly, it shows Emma’s strange ideas about what a friendship should look like. Unlike other characters, Emma politely asks if she’s allowed to talk to Sora. She apologizes for being a bother, which will come up in later sections. In her second and third events, Emma accidentally spoils what happens in movies she has starred in. While it is played off comedically, Emma decides to compensate for this by giving Sora copious amounts of money.

Despite being completely harmless, it gives the impression that she thinks she needs to pay Sora to be friends with her. Since Sora doesn’t know who Emma is outside of the killing game, the only other thing that previous “friends” might have used her for is money.

I think this also highlights how Emma is a people pleaser. She is so quick to take Sora’s joking request for one MILLION yen seriously, and even asks if that is enough.

In the fourth free time event, Emma goes into detail about her adoptive parents. However, she refuses to elaborate on anything that occurred before then.

Finally, the fifth event. This is when Emma completely breaks down, showing Sora her scars; literal and metaphorical.

Emma’s mother was never around, always smoking and drinking her woes away.

And her father? Her father was a greedy, angry drunk with no self control of himself. Since he couldn’t make a steady income, he forced Emma, a very young girl, to sell things on the street.

If she didn’t do it? He burned a cigarette into her arm.

She states that every day she tried to resist, but it only made the burns worse. So in the end, she just did what she was told.

“Because if you don’t listen, the cigarette light is burned.”

“If you cry, the cigarette light is burned.”

“Desperately holding back tears, acting as the daughter who is well behaved.”

“I’ve been living under a mask.”

These are all some quotes from the final free time event, and I think it perfectly explains why Emma acts the way she does.

Her acting isn’t just a skill, it’s a defense mechanism.

She became so good at pretending she was this perfect, kind hearted girl that it started to blend with her reality. She still is afraid of people hurting her, so she pushes all of her real feelings down. It’s why she’s so scared of opening up to Sora, claiming that she would hate her if she knew.

Emma doesn’t do it just to be nice: she does it to survive.

In a situation like a killing game, it’s no wonder she was being so “two faced”.

Because acting keeps her alive…

It keeps her from coming off as vulnerable, and more importantly; people will like her.

This is the reason why Mikado chose Emma to look after Kokoro. Emma is so good at being friendly, maybe she could lower Kokoro’s guard.

But, that’s not what happened. In fact, the opposite did.

I genuinely believe that somewhere deep inside, Emma did care for Kokoro. She was starting to get used to seeing her; eating breakfast together, the one way conversations which soon piqued mutual interest….

Setsuka calls Emma out at the end of the second trial about this, countering when Emma said that Kokoro got on her nerves.

The most tragic part of her character to me is how she gaslights herself.

She lies to herself about hating Kokoro so she can complete the murder.

She lies to herself about not caring for the other participants.

She lies to herself about being prepared to die.

And it's only in her last moments that the mask finally cracks, revealing someone who is deeply hurt and scared.

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That’s all I have to say for now, but I might make a part two!! Once again, thank you so much for the ask!! (⁠づ⁠｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡⁠)⁠づ

#sdra2 #emma magorobi #my favorite character ever honestly #character analysis

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bloodychazorite · 7 months ago

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Q!SLIME HEADCANONS N’ SHORT STORIES!!

(These are all the headcanons I use in my current fic and will probably use for my future fics, in case you’re curious!! :))

So, first, I don’t think Charlie is any bit human at all. I think he’s full, pure-bred slime with a Core that gives him sentience. The Core is a heart shaped, made of enchanted ruby and plated in gold around the edges.

During the time he was a God in the SCU (Slimecicle Cinematic Universe) he had three (That’s an incredibly long story that I may actually write one day so this is all you get for now). Now, he’s been reincarnated with one, sentient ever since. However, he’s full slime, nothing human about him. Without the Core, he’d just be straight slime. He’s probably one of the—if not just the only—sentient Slimes there is.

His skin scars because when he’s hurt enough, he needs to get more slime to repair himself. The slime isn’t his, however, so it doesn’t match his body completely for a while while it blends together.

Another type of scarring that can happen to him would be dehydration cracks. If he loses enough water, his slime will crack in a lightning-strike type pattern. It takes a while for those to go away as well, just because they need time to fill in.

Yes, he has bones, but he doesn’t need them. He has them because they make it so that he can keep his shape. When he was Gegg, he’d keep some but give the rest to Quackity for safe keeping.

“Where’s my left arm?” Charlie asked, digging through the bag Quackity kept on him.

The other only shuffled his foot back and forth, mumbling gently. He bit his lip as he spoke. “I needed food, man.”

“So?”

“So all I had was seeds and currently unused bones.”

A beat of silence, before a slow, creaking head turn.

“You used my bones for bone meal.” His voice was flat and his lips were pinched. “Are you deadass?”

“Just kill another skeleton man! I needed food!”

Charlie threw up the melty stub where his left arm should’ve been, waving it back and forth and dripping goo all over the ground.

“Do you know how fucking hard it is to find intact skeletons that will fit perfectly with the one that I currently have?! And that have five fingers?!”

Quackity rolled his eyes, shrinking in on himself. “Uh...No..?”

Charlie smushed slime into his face and laughed at his dramatic screaming. “It is incredibly fucking hard!”

Charlie keeps bones on him most of the time, in case he breaks the ones he’s got. Sometimes they take a minute to get used to, some of them too big or too long or too small, but it happens nonetheless. It’s also the reason he takes any fall damage ever. Without the bones, he wouldn’t take any fall damage. Those bones also determine his general height. If he wanted to be taller, he could find/construct a taller skeleton and get more slime.

Slimes are naturally acidic at a certain level at all times. However, with prompting, his level of acidity will rise. Prompting can look like danger, or threats. It can also be emotional, with extreme rage or sadness, the works.

“Oh no, not today fucker!” Mariana screamed as Slime tried to step outside during another argument. His skin dripped from the agitation but Mariana couldn’t care less.

Slime attempted to brush past him, breath heavy. “I’ll be right back,” He mumbled, "I need to go.”

He stepped to the left, Mariana doing the same.

Then, to the right, where she followed once again.

“Move your ass, I need to go now.”

“Hell no, you will stay and we will talk this out.”

Slime shoved past her, briskly rushing for the door. Mariana, wings twitching in agitation, whipped around and grabbed his wrist.

He smelled the burning before he felt it.

Before the white, lava hot seer hit his senses.

She nearly cried out in pain, staggering backward and scraping her skin against the hardwood as she fell. Scrambling into the wall, she groaned in agony and grasped the wrist of the suffering palm.

“Fuck- oh, fuck!”

Slime was right in front of him, suddenly, knelt with fear in his eyes. “Fuck, I am so sorry, I can’t control it I swear, I would never do that shit on purpose—” He rambled as Mariana writhed, swearing in shock and pain.

Her vision swam as she sobbed.

“I swear, I-I can’t… control it.”

He’s burnt a few holes in the floors before.

All in his slime, there are acid glands everywhere.

Because he’s got acid literally built into his system, the bones he’s got tend to break down after a while. Depending on how emotional or just how much he purposely activates his acid secretion, they could last from anywhere around two weeks to a month, usually. That’s what the skeleton in his basement is for, an extra set of bones.

Slime’s are the closest things to aquatic creatures without actually being aquatic. Being naturally drawn and attracted to moist environments, he can’t breathe underwater, but he doesn’t actually need to breathe so I guess it doesn’t matter. When swimming, he creates fins to help. The only reason he drowns is because he takes in too much water and becomes so liquidy that he just… dies, I dunno LMAOO

Being generally docile creatures, living either underground or in swamps, most Slimes have shit eyesight. They mostly rely on vibrations in the ground and auditory sensory input. Great hearing, terrible sight. Slimes are also ambush predators! They’re slow, but they’ll eat anything. If looking for meat, they’ll hide under the soil and wait for the vibrations of something with four legs.

“And where’s Charlie? I wanted to talk to him.” Phil asked as he stepped outside. “He said he’d be here.”

Roier, Cellbit, and himself had all been in Mariana’s house for a while now—Phil being there under the assumption that Charlie would be there.

Mariana shrugged and glanced around. “Ehh, somewhere.”

Then Juanaflippa sprinted forward and stopped on the open ground, jumping up and down. Her tiny feet pattered the ground as she skipped in circles around the open area. Bobby tilted his head in response before Richas yanked him towards the

Phil looked to Mariana for a look of mild amusement to say it was normal, or a look of confusion to make him feel like he wasn’t going insane because—even for Flippa—this wasn’t exactly typical from his perspective.

To Phil’s surprise, however, he stepped a bit forward and began to rhythmically tap his heel against the soil.

“Fuck-!” His heart found itself in his feet as something squeezed tight around his ankle, holding firm as he jumped away. He grabbed for a weapon as a light green hand pulled further from the ground.

A wrist, an arm, a… a goo monster.

A goo monster holding a suspiciously familiar pair of glasses.

“...Charlie?!”

His body tied itself back together, becoming more and more recognizable. They stared at each other for a minute.

“I swear I was aiming for Roier.”

Charlie, because of the core, has much better morphing and shape shifting abilities than normal Slimes. With enough observation he could literally be anyone. He’d looked at Juanaflippa so much that his Gegg looked a bit like her. The people he spends a lot of time looking at are the people he can most easily imitate.

“So you can just look… however you want?” Fit asked

“Uh-huh.” Slime replied offhandedly, focusing on the little craft they were working on for Richas’s half birthday.

Neither of them had ever heard of a half birthday before then.

“Without effort? You don’t even have to like… try?”

Sue him, Fit was incredibly curious. Sentient Slimes just didn’t exist, Slime was the only one he knew and would probably ever know.

He became even more curious (and slightly defensive) as Slime began to stare at him, an expression of scrutiny behind his gaze.

Then, a familiar lopsided grin and covered his face for a minute. A sloppy squishing sound resounded from behind his hands that made Fit wince.

The taller gasped as Slime’s face became uncovered.

Fit’s own face stared back at him, with only a few uncanny details astray.

“Christ, Slime! You just keep that ability all to yourself? Do you know how much trouble you could cause with that?!” He all but yelled.

Slime laughed, shifting his face back to its normal appearance. He winked before turning his head back to the project.

“Who’s to say I haven’t caused any trouble?”

Fit—from that day on—lived in fear of the people the Slime could be.

Charlie is all types of temperature sensitive. It's crazy.

Too hot, he’ll get all melty and struggle to hold his form. Leave his bones behind him and become a puddle.

Too dry, he’ll dehydrate and crack up. It’s incredibly painful, which is why slimes tend to stick around damp, humid areas.

Too cold, he’ll freeze, becoming a literal Slimecicle. Just like hypothermia, his fingertips, toes, and nose will turn a shade of blue first, eventually infecting the rest of his body. Also hella painful.

A good tactic if you really wanted to torture a Slime, stick them in the cold. They wouldn’t be able to stretch or morph after a while, it'll hurt like hell, and you get to decide how bad it is. GOOD STUFF

A 60 to humid 70 degrees Fahrenheit is generally ideal. The island tends to run a bit higher than that, but it’s not too extreme of a shift so he’s generally okay with some extra water.

Haha, he picked Eggxile in a place that was out of his comfort zone, just cause he knew he didn’t deserve comfort. He sent himself to a place that was too hot and too dry for a Slime. That's fun.

Uhh, that’s really all I can think of for right now, but I’ll repost this anytime I add to it :DD If you’ve got any headcanons you wanna talk about or you wanna talk about mine, please do!! I’ll literally talk for hours, you have no idea

LOVE YOU BYEE <33

#qsmp #charlie slimecicle #qsmp slimecicle #writing #ficlet #quackity #qsmp quackity #philza #qsmp philza #el mariana #qsmp mariana #posting this cause the next chapter of my fic might take a minute I'M SORRY #if you have any questions feel free to ask #as i said i'll talk for hours #may have some mistakes #i'll fix them in the morning #i thought adding the little short stories in between could be fun #might just be stupid LMAOO

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imjssmthig · 5 months ago

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descendants head canons but they’re carlos de vil centric (with a bit of evie involved bc i love their friendship)

•absolutely petrified of getting whatever mental illnesses his mom had since he wasn’t mentally stable

•evie found out about that (and was the first person he told) and she had to convince him his mental HEALTH issues weren’t his mothers mental issues (if that makes sense)

•evie couldn’t help but feel bad for carlos anytime someone yelled at him because despite having grown out of his shell if someone yells at him he kinda shuts down and just sits there and accepts whatever it is and doesn’t fight back afterwards

•this has happened MULTIPLE times

•one time mal was yelling at him over some stupid argument they had and he literally just sat there. evie was in awe. he just flinched at first since the yelling caught him off guard, stared mal dead in the eye for a bit, started to get nervous, look around to avoid eye contact with her, and when she mentioned he wasn’t looking at her he looked back at her and started to pick at his hands and gloves. he looked like he was trying to fit something in the whole time but physically could not even bring himself to. even after mal had finished he js sat there, slightly opening and closing his mouth before opening it and just responding “yea. yea no sorry” and waited til mal left the room to go properly stress out. it wasn’t like he had done anything to mal in the first place to even apologize for

•incredibly claustrophobic

•had actually never yelled at anyone. ever.

•can just fix anyone broken

•was the second most genuinely fashionable in the friend group after evie because of cruella,he just didn’t care as much

•was always willing to sit and talk with evie about what outfits on last nights runway were good and weren’t though

•when jane isn’t feeling well her magic goes a little wild (i saw this somewhere) and because he is always near her or trying to make her feel better he is constantly a victim of this issue

•he is ALWAYS getting shocked, shot, pinched, anything from this magic

•has also resulted in a headache once

TW abuse and stuff:

•carlos was the most prone to head injuries, even while at auradon because of how aggressively cruella would hit, throw, or beat him

•cigarette burns. everywhere.

•also has a really long and bad scar across his neck from the front left side all the way across to the bottom of the right by his shoulder from cruellas nail when she choked him once

•really good at reading body language and listening to people

•if someone compliments him he refuses to accept it

•evie will try to tell him he freckles are cute and he’ll just say “oh come on.” in a dead pan

•he also won’t take any from jane even though they’re DATING

•this is from cruella

•loves to compliment people though

•gets so so so scared whenever him and mal are talking and her eyes go green (and honestly me too bc what)

that’s it for now might post more later SEND IN MORE CARLOS HC U WSNNA SEE OR CARLOS AND EVIES FRIENDSHIP

#carlos de vil #descendants #cruella de vil #evie grimhilde #jane descendants

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kitthepurplepotato · 1 year ago

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Season 2 Chapter 2: Meet my Menace, you old hag!

Summary: Katsuki brings Y/N over to meet his family. He also realizes that being in love comes with a lot of uncomfortable situations… like ending up on his knees, worshipping a scarred body for instance.

…Wait, what?

Warnings: suggestive, swear words, body worship? (no smut though, just a lot of kisses and dirty thoughts + mentions of problems in the lower region 😂)

Season 1 -> Season 2 -> Master List

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

It has been two weeks since the “accident” and to be honest, not a lot of things have changed between you and Katsuki; he really wasn’t joking when he said he wants to take it slow.

The only thing different from your usual behavior is the occasional, short cuddling sessions which Katsuki initiates in the most random of times, fleeting touches when no one’s around, hand on the shoulder, pinkies touching slightly on Katsuki’s desk when you come around to look at his screen. They are small and barely there but they mean the world to you; that doesn’t mean you don’t want to do more, to kiss him in the morning and in the afternoon when you both go home to your own places, to kiss him as a thank you when the blonde brings “too much lunch” and forces you to “help him”, and god forbid, follow him to his flat next door and throw him on his bed to show him how much you miss the burning touches he’s given you on the day you two started dating. It’s a lot and it’s burning your insides uncomfortably but you are way too scared to initiate anything; every time you come closer he moves further away, every time you touch him he frowns like a stray dog being caressed for the first time. It’s maddening but you did know what you’re getting into, so you take what you can get and move on. For now.

“Oi, woman.” Katsuki yaps from his desk after an eventful patrol day; he’s been out an about through his whole shift and just came back to finish the paperwork for the day. You missed him a lot today. Also, he calls you “woman” a lot these days and it’s probably his best try on giving you a pet name. It might sound rude for other people, but you know he means well. “How tired are you?” Hm. You really shouldn’t make a cheeky sexual comment, even though you really want to. “I know what you want to say and don’t.”

Busted.

“I’ve been sitting at this fucking desk for eight hours.” You sigh. “My brain is fried but I’m okay, why?”

“Old hag wants me home for dinner.” He mumbles with a slight blush on his cheeks. He’s so cute. When did Dynamight get so cute?!

“Oh! Tell her I said hi!” You smile at the blonde who only scoffs at your answer.

“I want you to come, you fucking idiot. She invited you the last time, didn’t she?” He rolls his eyes scornfully. Your heart squeezes at the implications.

“Does she know…?”

“Fuck no.” Katsuki looks away, his blush intensified. “I want her to find it out for herself. I ain’t gonna do the whole awkward introduction thing. It’s stupid.”

“But I look like shit today!” You freak out, looking down at your attire; you’re wearing an old, oversized hoodie that’s coming apart at the seams, it’s black color faded to a dark grey from all the washing, basic black skinny trousers and your favorite doc martens which are also not in the best condition.

“You look fine. I can give you another hoodie. I also have dry shampoo.” He smirks while staring at your flat hair that clearly needs a wash. It’s your hair washing day, okay?!

“How chivalrous you are.” You roll your eyes but you both know you won’t say no. You just can’t say no to this madman.

It doesn’t mean you are not freaking out internally.

~•💥•~

This was a mistake. Oh god, Katsuki is in pieces.

As Katsuki and Y/N shares an office, being alone with the Menace isn’t a problem, but seeing her sitting on his bed, waiting for him to give her a hoodie to wear… is a little bit much. His allergy is acting up again, his heart wants to burst out of his chest, his breathing is uneven and oh my god how much he wants to straddle the woman and throw her clothes on the floor one by one, until she’s stark naked…

“Did you just slap yourself in the face?”

Oh yes, he did. There was no other way to stop this nonsense.

“Shut up.” Katsuki mumbles with a red face, throwing his favorite hoodie towards her; it’s an old Dynamight merch designed by his mother; it’s black with orange and green lines in the shape of his hero costume. Y/N stares at it for a few seconds then stands up to get out of his old hoodie; her shirt underneath rides up, making the blonde salivate over the triangle of skin showing; she has a huge scar around her hips. It’s really fucking hot.

Katsuki doesn’t know when he came over and why but here he is, in front of the Menace, sliding his fingers over the scar to feel it while Y/N yelps, surprised, but she doesn’t move away.

“Ahh, that.” She sighs. “I have a few of those, you probably didn’t have time to look at them when we fought.” Y/N rides her shirt further up, showing off a few more scars along her belly and her back. There is a massive scar on the other side of her hips in a shape of an explosion; the scar itself is light, a bit more pink than the rest of her body but it takes up quite a lot of space. It must have hurt a lot. “It’s not too sexy, is it.”

Katsuki looks at Y/N incredulously, trying his best to hide his growing bulge from the sight, because fuck, Katsuki didn’t know he has a thing for battle scars, but apparently he does. The only thing stopping him from acting on his instincts is his allergy; his heart is having a really hard time coping with the sight. He feels a little bit light-headed. He doesn’t know why he kneels in front of Y/N to leave a kiss on the brightest scar, the first one he saw when Y/N’s shirt rode up. Y/N yelps but her hand ends up in Katsuki’s hair, tugging and if he haven’t had a problem until now, now he has. Apparently, hair tugging is also his thing. Maybe everything Y/N does is “his thing”. Oh man, he’s a goner.

He continues peppering kisses all over the scars, loving them the way no one ever did; every single scar makes Katsuki respect his significant other even more. He would also - respectfully - like to see the rest of her body so he can continue his shenanigans until every scar is loved and appreciated.

That was cheesy as fuck, what’s wrong with him?!

“I have a massive scar on the middle of my chest and smaller ones all over my torso and my back, you might have been too busy last time to realize.” He mumbles between two kisses. Y/N doesn’t answer just tugs on his hair once and Katsuki can’t help the animalistic grumble that comes out of his mouth, muffled by Y/N skin. Katsuki really wants to explode something right now. Or do other things to keep his mind off exploding things.

Katsuki has never had a problem with keeping it in his pants. Never. It has been quite the opposite, he usually had a hard time to… well… have the thing up. He certainly doesn’t have that problem with Y/N and he has no idea what to do about that right now.

“Katsuki, stop. I’m quite sure you don’t have a spare underwear in my size laying around…”

“What do you mean…?!” It takes him a few moments the understand and when he does, it goes right to his groin. “Fuck’s sake woman, you can’t just say things like that!” Katsuki moves away as quick as he can, hiding his impressive tent by sitting down on the bed with his back to his girlfriend.

Girlfriend. He could literally just continue and it wouldn’t be weird. He has all the rights to do so.

Oh fuck, he really-really wants to do that but he’s quite sure his heart wouldn’t be able to last for long and neither would he…. Wait, he did not just think that. Oh my god, Katsuki is absolutely done right now and they’ve barely done anything. He hates Y/N so much.

“Put your fucking hoodie on and let’s go.” He mumbles as he makes his way towards the bathroom to freshen up. He didn’t want to take a shower but if he doesn’t take an ice cold shower right now, they ain’t gonna make it to his mother’s house. Bakugou Katsuki isn’t a patient man and it’s certainly showing.

~•💥•~

It’s hot in Katsuki’s flat and your skin is burning; you can still feel his lips on your sensitive scars, you can still feel his soft hair underneath your palm and you can’t even think about the way your body shook when he rumbled against your skin. One thing for sure, if you ever make it to the bed, that shit’s gonna be hot. Fuck the awkwardness of the first time with a new person, the careful touches and all that jazz. You can already see how that’s not going to be the case for you two especially if he riles you up a few more times just to leave you hanging afterwards.

You really need to stop thinking about this right now, but how are you supposed to function after being kissed in such a passionate way? How are you supposed to just move on when Katsuki managed to make you feel wanted while peppering kisses over the scars you are so self conscious about? You’ve never thought anyone would want you with a body like that. You were terrified for him to find out how ugly you are under your shirt yet here he was, only a few minutes prior, on his knees, loving you in a way you thought no one ever could. Katsuki might be harsh and abrasive with his words and deeds but deep inside he’s the purest, most understanding man you’ve ever met. You can’t believe how lucky you are to be the one he cares about. Your love for him just doubled, even though you were sure you can’t love this man more than you already do.

Katsuki comes out of the shower, shaking like a leaf and you wonder how cold his shower was for him to be reduced to a trembling mess like that. Maybe you weren’t the only one hot and bothered by those few minutes. You try not to think about it too much for the sake of your sanity. Katsuki looks at you with a new expression on his face; he takes you in, his eyes stopping when he gets to his hoodie and swallows.

“You look nice in my clothes.” He spurts out, his face red as a tomato. “I mean you look nice in that hoodie. Fuck. Let’s go.”

… and he’s gone. Thank fuck for that because you need a moment to take a few deep breaths after this conversation.

~•💥•~

“Fancy riding a bike with me?” Katsuki smirks as he makes his way towards the parking lot; a beautiful black and orange motorbike stands on the side, shiny and freshly washed.

“Marry me.”

Well, you didn’t mean to say that out loud, but damn, that bike is hot. Just like his owner.

“Wow.” That’s all he says, a massive shit eating grin decorating his handsome face.

“Oh, shut up and let’s go!”

“I said nothin’.” He laughs and the happiness in his voice makes your heart swell two sizes; this all feels like a fever dream, clouded by pink, cotton candy clouds where nothing really matters, just Katsuki and you, alone in Candy land, enjoying your time together, basking in the pink sunlight. The feeling only gets stronger when you snake your arms around your boyfriend, pulling him close, the breeze caresses your cheeks as you two ride towards Katsuki’s family home so he can introduce you as his second half. This is probably the best dream you’ve ever had.

He stops at a beautiful, modern family home in the suburban area, it’s fancy and definitely way too big for a small family like theirs.

“Stop staring and move your ass! We have 2 minutes before they start stalking us from the window!” To make sure you understand, Katsuki slaps your bottom once to urge you to move towards the main entrance; you look at him with incredulous eyes and he smirks; you two must look like misbehaving children as you run towards the door, trying your best to make the other trip on the way there. Katsuki ends up succeeding right before the entrance but he grabs you so you don’t fall; you both laugh while enjoying the embrace, swaying left to right like two cheesy teenagers. When Katsuki looks deep into your eyes with a tiny smile on his lips you can’t help yourself; you close the distance between your mouths, leaving a careful kiss on the blonde’s lips. You can feel the tension in his shoulders so you decide to move away awkwardly; apparently this wasn’t the right time for this. Great.

“I’ll eventually get used to that.” He mumbles awkwardly, leaving a tiny kiss in the corner of your lips as a silent “sorry”.

“Sorry, I should be more patient. I just really wanted to kiss you. I always… want to kiss you.”

I love you - you want to say instead, but you don’t. It’s too soon.

“I… “ Katsuki is about to answer but the door opens up and you both jump away from each other.

Well, this is awkward.

~•💥•~

Mitsuki didn’t expect Katsuki to actually bring Y/N over today. It’s not a problem, far from that; she always makes enough food to last for at least 3 days, she’s just… well… surprised.

She might have been the one to raise the explosive boy but this boy have never listened to her once; she could beg him to meet his friends or brush his teeth more gently, Katsuki always did what he wanted so seeing him actually listen for once calls for a celebration.

When she opens the door her eyes are met with two blushing people, one redder than the other; Mitsuki tries her best to not think too much about why the two look the way they do as she is known to make romantic assumptions about everything; she’s a middle aged woman who enjoys a good romantic movie after a hard day at work and it certainly does things to her mind. It also doesn’t help that she’s been obsessed with Katsuki’s secretary since she’s met her the other day; she’s fierce, caring and so-so perfect for her son! She still can’t believe Y/N managed to make Katsuki say sorry for something. What a legend she is.

“Welcome!” Mitsuki grins and lets the two in; her eyes stop at Y/N’s attire; it’s an old hoodie she designed for Katsuki. “Nice hoodie, Y/N! I designed that!” Mitsuki says proudly, and for some reason, that makes Y/N extremely uncomfortable. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, sorry! I’m just anxious, that’s all!”

“Ahh, don’t be! Being close to my son means you are automatically a part of this family! So make yourself at home! The dinner is ready, I’ll tell Masaru to come down!” She yells and leaves the two alone.

Mitsuki has a weird feeling in her stomach; she feels like there is something she’s missing, something obvious. Hm, maybe it’s just her romantic mind missing the spice… but she’s quite sure that hoodie was Katsuki’s and she’s also quite sure she accidentally interrupted something by opening the door on them before they knocked.

Mitsuki takes a deep breath and makes her way towards her husband. She really needs to went to someone before she can’t stop herself from coming out with her little secret notebook of wedding dress designs she’s made for Katsuki’s future wife.

~•💥•~

“What the fuck are you doing?” Katsuki yells at you for apparently no reason in the middle of the family dinner.

“What have I done wrong? Am I using the fork the wrong way?”

“Don’t be sassy with me, princess.” Katsuki argues, and while the nickname wasn’t an actual nickname, it does make your heart stutter and by the look on Mitsuki’s face, she’s feeling the same. “Your fucking plate is EVEN.” He says, like that makes any kind of sense.

“Yes. It’s how it should be.” You mumble between two bites.

“No.” Katsuki retorts and steals a bunch of meat from your plate and gives you more veggies from his. “This is how it should be. You prefer veggies over meat. The hag just told you to make yourself at home, didn’t she? Don’t be an ass and eat what you like.” He grumbles and goes back to his own plate. The parents stare at their own son like they are seeing an alien and honestly, you can understand them.

You’ll never get used to Katsuki’s rough love.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Can I have your broccoli now?” You look straight at his secret stash of broccolis on the side of his plate. Katsuki looks at you with a shocked face.

“You ain’t getting my broccoli, woman. I’m saving those for last.”

“But Katsuki, you know it’s my favorite part!” You moan, just to rile the blonde up, because you are a little shit.

“No. Nope. Never. Fuck off.” Katsuki even goes as far as placing his plate further away from you so you can’t reach it. You do try though.

“You can have all my broccoli.” Mitsuki speaks up, fishing out the green vegetables from her dish. Apparently that only riles Katsuki up more.

“Tch, you know what? There you go. Have mine.”

“I was just teasing!” You whine after you look at your plate; the whole family decided to give you their sharing. Do these people not joke in this household?!

“With all due respect Mr.Bakugou, you gave me way too much broccoli.” You deadpan, and Masaru just smiles.

“I hate broccoli.”

For some weird reason that makes Mitsuki riled up as well. This family is mental.

“What did I tell you about eating your greens, fucker?! Do you want to die on me?! Do you think I’m gonna live in this massive fucking house alone with my 600 cats 50 dogs, smelling like cat piss and broken dreams?!” The woman yells and Masaru tries his best to become a turtle and push his head inside his body, but his plan fails really quickly.

“Okay, honey, let’s not freak out the guest…”

“What guest, she’s fucking family! Katsuki gave her his broccoli! Don’t you fucking dare call her a fucking guest!” Mama Bakugou yells, her aggressive breathing makes Masaru’s hair move, like it’s blown by the wind. For your surprise, Katsuki only smiles at the whole shenanigan and continues eating his dish.

Now you understand why is Katsuki such a tough cookie to crack if this is what he sees from his parents every day.

“Let me guess, this is the Bakugou version of PDA?” You smirk at the blonde. He rolls his eyes with a tiny smile on his pretty little face.

“Kinda.” He sighs then starts yelling.

“Get a room, fuckers!”

… and this is how the rest of the dinner goes. You are quite sure you lost most of your hearing during this evening.

~•💥•~

The only time the room is silent is when the family decides to watch a movie before bed. There isn’t a single noise in the room as the movie starts rolling; everyone keeps their eyes peeled on the TV, snuggled up into fluffy blankets even though the movie was chosen by mama Bakugou and is definitely not the type of movie the two boys would watch on a normal day. The story is about a girl who’s never been in love before and as always, there is the perfect guy who randomly appears in her life and all the other typical bullshit. It’s not your first choice for a movie, but Katsuki is sharing a blanket with you, so you have no reason to complain.

Around the middle of the movie there’s a really heart-wrenching scene when the main character realizes her feelings and asks for help.

“Lilly, how do you know you are in love with someone?” The main character asks.

“They are the first thing you think about when you wake up and the last when you go to sleep.” Lilly says with a smile on her face. You look at Katsuki and for your surprise he’s looking right back you; his face looks surprised. Somehow, the whole room disappears and it feels like it’s just you two who did not stop moving while the whole world came to a halt.

“Just thinking about their smile can make the worst day a better one and they are the first person you think about when something good or bad happens.” Lilly continues and you are quite sure the main character is having a dramatic revelation on the screen but you can’t stop staring at the blonde man next to you.

“When they are in the same room, you can’t stop looking; their eyes, their lips, just everything about them calls your name.” Katsuki swallows hard at that and puts his arms around your shoulder so you can snuggle closer; and fuck, you didn’t even realize how much you wanted to do that until your heart started to go frantic from his touch.

“Kats…” You mumble into his neck and you look up just to be met with the most beautiful sight the world has ever seen; Katsuki looks at you with pure love and fondness and there is a tiny smile on his lips as he closes the distance between you two and gives you the softest kiss you’ve ever had. You have no idea what’s going on in the movie anymore and you certainly don’t care; you caress the man’s cheeks fondly as you continue to pepper small kisses on his lips.

A sudden noise ruins your moment though; something falls to the floor and it sounds like a mug so you look to your other side… and that’s when you realize you weren’t alone in the room.

Of course you weren’t, you started this movie together with Katsuki’s family!! Oh fuck.

… Next Chapter!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Potato ramble:

- Woah, Katsuki really went for it! :D btw that part wasn’t even in my plans it just happened while I was writing the chapter…

- For those who got confused in the last chapter about Steven: Steven is Katsuki’s pigeon who decided to live on his balcony in season 1! I forgot to mention that for those who started the series with S2, sorry!

- The broccoli thing is a reference to the first few chapters of season one! The story started with Katsuki sneaking broccoli pieces into Kirishima’s secret stash of unhealthy snacks. Y/N was the only one eating them. 😂

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated as always! Tell me your thoughts and feel free to ask questions! 💥

Taglist: @sixxze @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @hanatsuki-hime @cloroxisadelectabletreat @cheesenmax @coffeent @smolsleepybat

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou x self insert #bakugo x you #shenanigansbypurplepotato #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #soft bakugou #dynamight x reader

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