#also tw for the thing i've linked

[sinnettini]

i guess we are who we are 'til we're not

[thethingything]

I find it kind of interesting that we have a couple of delusions (and the hallucinations that come with those) that just kind of involve gruesome stuff happening to us, especially because they weren't as gruesome at first but have gotten more so over time.

the hallucinations are all somatic ones (sensations instead of visuals or audio) but they're stuff like I guess what our brain thinks it would feel like if our organs were decomposing, or being eaten by maggots, or just stuff with a similar vibe to that?

I can put up with it for the most part, but like I did nearly throw up on the bed because of it earlier and I'd really like to not experience that again

[prim3dsins]

[l0vem41l]

"i've always wanted something simple..."

「 tws + notes: no tws, potentially ooc, unedited as BAWLS, what do you mean it's been a while since i've last written, domestic (kinda), lowkey heavily implied romance,,,, blame the spirit of valentine's day (。﹏。) 」

「 gn!reader, can be platonic or romantic relationship <3 」

↳ ft. bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd, and tim drake

author's note: yeah so... i'm still dc rotted. here are little things that i just find cute つ﹏⊂ <33 gonna keep it 120% w/ u, life is BUSY!!!! but we ball regardless :D you know im gonna find time to write my superhero fanfics anyways >:3

▸ BRUCE loves when you wear his clothes. simple but recognizable, his clothes become a silent way of saying "they're with me." and considering that most of the pieces in his wardrobe that are downright iconic, almost all of gotham knows who's jacket you're wearing when you step out in it.

he's not insecure by any means, and it isn't quite a display of possessiveness— but rather, affection and devotion. you're special to bruce, and even if it's through subtle means, he's more than happy to show it.

▸ DICK likes to have you within reach. no reason in particular, he says, but you know that's not quite true. maybe he's secretly a little ashamed of being so clingy. either way, he wants (or needs) you to be close to him.

it doesn't really matter to him how he achieves this either. whether it's his hand in yours, his arm around your shoulders, his hand resting on the small of your back, or his arm linked with yours— he's happy as ever. if you're a fast walker and by some miracle, you weren't already holding hands, dick's not beyond tugging your shirt from behind to reel you back in.

"are you trying to escape me? i'm wounded." dramatic.

▸ JASON loves helping you run errands. to be completely honest, he would be content doing just about anything as long as you're around, but there's something special about being the one that you drag around for mundane things like buying groceries or getting gas.

he also loves to be helpful to you. always offering to get the things off higher shelves that you just can't reach, always getting out the car first to pump your gas— there's just something about that shy but pleased smile of yours that makes doing little things for you so much more rewarding. and, yeah, it's silly but jason's heart practically leaps out his chest when you thank him by planting a little kiss on his cheek.

▸ TIM loves to take naps with you. he values the time that he has with you, and of course, would much rather spend it conscious— but there's something particularly special about being able to rest at your side. it's a declaration of trust from him— and there's an undeniable tenderness he feels when he realizes that he's able to let his guard down for once.

except... tim doesn't notice how frequent this habit has become. he's gotten so used to napping with you, that if he's feeling like he's been awake for too long, he'll hunt you down just to get some rest. your plans of reading peacefully on the couch are thwarted— prepare for him to wrap his arms around you while he shifts to lay his head on your chest. no words, no questions— guess you'll have to set aside whatever you're doing now.

— reblogs always appreciated!

[imaginespazzi]

Part 8: The Toxic In Intoxication

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14

Your mouth is poison (your mouth is wine)

(In which an all over the place writer, writes something that's a little bit all over the place)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff, Jealousy,

Words: 9.0K

TW: Swearing, a little bit of violence, mentions of blood, men being men

A/N: Hi lovelies :) Unfortunately, as I've been warning y'all for a while, the deadline did finally slip through my fingers. However I'm hoping y'all will forgive me for it because I am only one day late and this chapter is quite long. I do wanna warn y'all in advance that there won't be a chapter next week because I am going on vacation and my laptop is staying very, very far away from me. There's a lot going on in this chapter and I'm not sure how I feel about the whole thing but I'm hoping y'all will enjoy it anyways. I did actually edit this time but who knows how successful that was, so please let me know about typos/mistakes. As always, feel free to tell me about what you liked, what you disliked and anything you'd like to see going forward. Have a lovely rest of your weeks my loves <3

August 2025

Azzi Fudd is a spectacular liar. She excels at keeping up a façade of yes everything is perfectly fine in front of her friends and family. She’s quite good at tricking people she can barely stand into thinking oh yes i’m totally enjoying this conversation. But the person Azzi lies the most to, is without a doubt herself. As she steps out of the car into the hot Indiana air, bustling with noises from the growing crowd inside, Azzi internally repeats a lie to herself again: she did not show up to all-star weekend for a glimpse of her ex girlfriend. She’s here, as per Colleen’s managerial advice, to build connections, to further her career and to expand on opportunities in the basketball world. The fact that Paige Bueckers, who Azzi hasn’t seen in three months -the longest period of time they’d spent apart since she’d started at UConn- is definitely also going to be attending tonight’s party, is merely a happenstance. 

Taking a deep breath, Azzi puts one kitten heeled foot in front of the other, trying to ignore her heightened nerves. This isn’t her preferred scene by any means. She’d much rather be back in her hotel room, curled on her couch with a book and a pint of ice cream. It’s not that Azzi doesn’t like parties; she has her fair share of fun at Ted’s, but it’s the unfamiliarity of the environment and the lack of that once ever present comforting hand that used to tap out i’m here for you against the back of her own at big events like these, that has her yearning to crawl back into the car and hide away. 

“Azzi?” a familiar voice calls from behind her and Azzi lets out a sigh of relief as she sees Aaliyah walking towards her with a large welcoming grin, “Azeray!”

“Li-Li. Thank god you’re here,” Azzi reaches up to hug her former teammate, mentally thanking whatever god was looking out for her. She’d dreaded walking in by herself and now she wouldn’t have to. Really she probably should probably send Coach a ‘thank you’ text for having so many alumni in the league that there was bound to be a Husky she could attach herself to for the night. 

“I’m glad to see you too Az,” Aaliyah says, pulling away and looking at Azzi with a semi-concerned look, “but you seem a little extra relieved to see me? You good dude?”

“Just- just a little nervous,” Azzi admits, shuffling her feet uneasily. 

Realization dawns on Aaliyah’s face, “cause of Paige?”

“No you know I don’t like big unfamiliar places,” Azzi sighs when Aaliayh gives her a pointed look, “but I guess maybe- maybe a little cause of Paige.”

The Mystics forward shakes her head before linking her arms through Azzi’s, “I swear, I leave y’all for one year and everything implodes-," she bites her tongue, "shit was that insensitive?”

“No,” Azzi grimaces, “that’s pretty much exactly what happened.”

Something hard coils in her stomach at Aaliyah’s words. The truth is they’d been fine. Better than fine even. And then suddenly Azzi was lighting a box of matches she hadn’t even known she was holding and her whole world was on fire; an implosion of everything Azzi had once thought inflammable. She’d burned her hands trying to rescue them and all she has to show for it are invisible red hot pustules that refuse to heal. But perhaps, she thinks, that’s what a pyromaniac like her had deserved. 

Azzi cowers under the flashing lights of the cameras, clinging tighter to Aaliyah’s arm as the two of them make their way onto the orange carpet, the cameramen immediately swinging their devices to capture the college basketball player more than likely to be the number one pick in next year’s WNBA draft. She feels herself tense under their piercing gaze, anchored only by Aaliyah's strong and steady presence next to her. And as they pose for the cameras, she’s thankful for her former teammate’s company but she can’t shake the feeling that it should have been someone else. 

“And look who we have here,” Lexie Brown says excitedly as the two of them approach the interviewer, “y’all Huskies clean up nice.”

“We try, we try,” Aaliyah answers charismatically, doing a little hair flip to match her tone. 

“Aaliyah, it's your first all-star nod, how are you feeling?” 

“I feel great, you know it’s always good to see yourself being acknowledged and being an all-star has always been a goal of mine. So, I hope it’s the first of many and I’m just hoping my team gets the W tomorrow,” Aaliyah answers diplomatically.

Lexie turns to Azzi, “I bet you’re really proud of her. I mean you’ve got a couple of teammates who are first-time all stars between Aaliyah and Paige. You’ve gotta be feeling pretty proud of them”

“Y-yeah I mean,” Azzi clears her throat, trying not to flinch at the mention of Paige’s name, “It’s been- it’s been really exciting to watch them and I’m extremely proud-”

She’s cut off by the sound of excited chatter filling up the air and Azzi doesn’t have to turn around to know who’s just entered the premises. Not when she has a whole separate sensory system that flares up just for her. Azzi’s skin prickles as she registers the sound of familiar peals of laughter echoing from the orange carpet. She digs her nails into the palm of her hand, forcing herself not to turn around. 

“Speak of the devil,” Lexie says goodnaturedly, getting her hand ready to beckon the blonde over and Azzi feels panic suffocate her lungs, not quite ready to face Paige yet. 

“Oh I don’t think-” Aaliyah tries to cut in, glancing worriedly at her friend but it’s too late. 

“Paige,” Lexie calls out, beaming over Azzi’s head at the Dallas Wings’ newest star point guard. 

The world seems to move in slow motion as Azzi feels Paige getting closer and closer to her. She smells the faint scent of fresh mint weaved with a hint of citrus first. Then she hears the sound of Paige’s breathing, perfectly even to anybody else but Azzi can hear the staggered harshness hidden beneath it. And as the blonde passes over her to settle on Lexi’s other side, she feels Paige’s arm brush against her own and it hurts to breathe. The contact lasts for a second but Azzi swears it’ll last forever, tattooing itself on her bicep as a wretched reminder of a touch she’s no longer allowed to crave. 

It’s funny, there’s a hurricane swirling between them and Paige can barely look at Azzi, keeping her eyes firmly on Lexie and Aaliyah as she greets the trio. And yet, there’s a sense of calm -of peace- that seems to wash over Azzi just by having Paige near her again. The older woman seems to possess some sort of magical power that weaves itself into Azzi’s nervous system, soothing away her frazzled nerves with an unspoken promise of and if you give me the chance i’ll make it all okay. 

Despite the hectic transition from a full college season to a frantic W season, Paige looks ethereal as always. Her two piece cropped vest top and straight fitted pants match the color of her eyes and a silver chain dangles across her chest. Two strands of blonde hair hide her signature diamond studs, the rest of it pulled back into a slightly messy bun. Azzi gulps at the way the vest top parts right above her midriff, Paige’s toned abs playing peek-a-boo behind it. She lets her eyes roam over Paige’s exposed arms, trying to ignore memories of how they used to go taut under her touch, down to the blonde’s bare fingers and she feels her heart constrict. No rings. It feels wrong. But then again, nothing has felt right for three months. 

“Azzi,” Aaliyah hisses and Azzi snaps out of her thoughts, realizing she’d been asked a question. 

“Sorry,” she laughs nervously, moving a strand of her hair out of her face; Paige’s eyes intently following the movement, “what was the question.”

Lexie smiles, “I was just asking about your thoughts on Paige’s amazing rookie year so far?”

“Oh um-” Azzi hesitates, shivers inching up her spine as she feels Paige drinking in the sight of the her body like she's a woman parched, “I’m just-” their eyes lock with each other’s and everything else seems to vanish until it feels like it’s just the two of them floating in between remnants of what they used to be, “I’m just really proud of her. I always knew she’d be amazing. She’s just doing what she always does. Being the best player she can be. So yeah I’m just- I’m just really proud of her.”

And Azzi doesn’t know how they got to this point where Paige seems almost shocked that Azzi could be proud of her, to this point where there’s droplets threatening to spill over both of their water lines and they no longer have the right to wipe each other’s tears away. 

“Aww,” Lexie coos, oblivious to the tension, “well on that sweet note, off y’all go and we’ll see y’all later.”

The walk into the party is kept alive with Aaliyah’s attempt at keeping a conversation going. While Paige tries to at least entertain some of, Azzi finds herself completely zoning out until they finally make their way inside into the cacophony of music and laughter. 

“Y’all wanna get-” Aaliyah begins.

“I see Jewell and Téa,” Paige cuts her off immediately, her legs already moving in a rush, “I’ll see y’all later.”

She gives Aaliyah a tentative grin but barely looks at Azzi as she practically trips over her pant-sleeves trying to get away. It feels like something’s biting against her skin, sharp teeth indenting you did this to yourself as Azzi watches Paige walk away. She watches as the tension slowly leaves the blonde’s muscles as she’s pulled into a hug by Jewell and then by Téa. The fake smile that she’d politely kept on her face the last couple of minutes for the sake of the cameras and reporters is replaced by something far more genuine. Azzi watches as Paige is absorbed into the warmth of the growing crowd, embraced by a league that adores her, and she feels the ice cold pinch of she belongs somewhere without you now start to freeze her own heart. 

***

Azzi’s doing fine. She’s gotten through the night with Aaliyah by her side, making small talk with a bunch of different players and she’s managed to keep a friendly smile the whole time. She’d even danced for a little bit, letting loose with some of the other college basketball players that had made the trip to Indianapolis. Sure, she’d occasionally been distracted by her eyes flickering over to the bar and finding a new pretty influencer batting their fake eyelashes at Paige but really she’s doing fine. Her head’s a little dizzy and maybe the third shot of tequila, influenced by a one leggy brunette that had gotten a little too handsy, wasn’t her brightest decision of the night but really, Azzi’s doing fine. 

Until she’s not. 

And it’s Paige's fault. She had to know that it would be Azzi’s last straw. She had to know that Azzi could live with watching a thousand girls flirt with Paige as long as the blonde in question stood rigidly by the bar doing nothing but smiling politely at them. She had to know that Azzi, after having spent most of their college life watching girls fawn over her girlfriend, could deal with the flirty hands that lingered just a little too long on Paige’s bicep. But it’s when Paige leans into this one girl -whose dark curls and tanned caramel skin are just a little too reminiscent of her own- when Paige’s lips graze just a little to close this one girl’s ear, that Azzi realizes she’s decidedly not fine. 

“I need some air,” she manages to bite out, ignoring Aaliyah’s concerned look as she marches out the back door, heading towards the deck. 

Azzi buries her face in her hands as she leans back against the brick wall. She knows she’s being unfair; knows she has absolutely no right to feel this way but something burns within her anyways and the light breeze does nothing to cool it down. 

“I’m not cheating on you,” a harsh voice interrupts her pity party and Azzi sucks in a sharp breath, “We’re not together and I can flirt or kiss or fuck-” she flinches, “anyone if I want to.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Paige’s voice is laced with accusation, “because the way you just stormed out says otherwise.”

Azzi continues to keep her head in her palms, refusing to look at the blonde, “it’s hot and stuffy in there. I just needed some fresh air.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying,” Paige spits out. 

“Well what do you want me to say instead?” Azzi finally looks up, her even cadence in stark contrast to Paige’s fiery tone, “I know we’re not together-”

“Because that’s what you wanted-”

“I know,” Azzi yells, and then quieter, “I know. I know I- I know I did this. But that- that doesn’t make it any easier to see you with someone else,” she swallows, “doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss you.”

Paige scoffs, rubbing her face as she begins to pace, “you miss me? I was at Mohegan when y’all had summer camp. The whole team showed up to the game except for you and you want me to believe that you miss me?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me there,” Azzi confesses in a whisper, “you were so mad at me after-after everything- and I just- I didn’t want to ruin coming back to Connecticut for you.”

“For me,” Paige lets out a laugh devoid of any emotion, “god Azzi there you go again with this fake ‘selfless’ bullshit.”

A thousand and one retorts die on the tip of Azzi’s tongue as she shakes her head and pushes herself off the wall. She can smell the alcohol on Paige, can tell the blonde is itching for an argument but all she feels is pure exhaustion. 

 “I don’t wanna fight Paige. I’m tired and I just-” she bites her lip, fighting the urge to caress Paige’s cheek, “believe it or don’t but- I really do miss you.”

Sparks of electricity dance their way through Azzi’s veins when Paige curls a hand around her wrist, stopping her in her tracks from going inside. And suddenly she doesn’t feel so cold anymore. 

“Dance with me,” Paige whispers. 

“What?” 

Paige shrugs, tugging on Azzi’s hand to pull her closer, “you said you don’t wanna fight and I- I don’t want you to go,” the confession hangs between them as Paige’s hands fall to Azzi’s waist, “so- let’s just- let’s pretend.”

“What are we pretending?” Azzi asks quietly and despite the warnings ringing in her head, she wraps her arms around Paige’s neck. It feels like coming home. 

“We’re pretending that we’re okay,” Paige says softly, holding Azzi’s hips as she begins to sway them gently, “we’re pretending that three months ago you said yes.”

“Paige-”

“Close your eyes Azzi,” the blond waves her hand gently across Azzi’s face, willing both of their eyelids to flutter shut, “we’re pretending that we’re not here- we’re in Minnesota or DC or I don’t know just- anywhere. And our families are here, laughing and talking and some sappy romantic song is playing. It's the best day of our lives and we’re both- we're both dressed in white-”

“Paige,” Azzi lets out a sob, as she begins to understand the picture Paige is painting for them; a picture drawn on a canvas that Azzi had torn up before any color could touch it

“Sshhhh just- let me have this okay,” Paige’s voice trembles as she leans her forehead against Azzi’s, “if I can’t have it for real, please just let me pretend.”

If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Azzi would fight Paige’s tightening grip. If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Paige would let go. Instead Azzi lets Paige play pretend, lets them keep their bodies pressed against each other, moving from side to side in rhythm with the wind. 

It isn’t until she hears footsteps approaching them that Azzi hurriedly moves away first and she can see the betrayal of if only you’d just let me hold you in front of the world written all over Paige’s face. They’re both quick to swap their tears for smiles that don’t reach their eyes as they turn to face the intruders. And Azzi wonders if Paige wishes she’d drank a little bit more too. Because maybe if they were both just a little more drunk, then tomorrow they wouldn’t have to remember just how right it had felt to play pretend tonight. 

April 2033 

“You look so pretty Mama,” Stephie gushes from where she’s perched on the bed as she watches Azzi put the finishing touches to her makeup

“Thanks baby,” Azzi smiles, blowing a kiss in the mirror. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie flips the running facetime call, skipping over to her mother with the phone in her hand, “doesn’t Mama look beautiful?”

Sixteen years later, and maybe it’s because of all the time they’d missed in between, but Azzi can’t help the bout of shyness that flushes across her features when Stephie places the phone, Paige’s face illuminated all over it, against the mirror so the blonde can get a proper look at Azzi’s outfit.

“You look-” Paige clears her throat, eyes dilated as they rake over Azzi’s whole body, “you look phenomenal.”

“Big word Bueckers,” Azzi teases, trying to disguise her blush, “did you just learn it?”

Paige rolls her eyes, “can’t even give you a compliment without an insult Fudd.”

“You guys argue too much,” Stephie says exasperatedly, shaking her head at the two adults who laugh. The younger girl sometimes seems far wise beyond her age. 

“We’re not arguing Stephie, we’re just-” Azzi struggles to think of a word. 

“Foreplaying,” Paige mutters under her breath and Azzi immediately glares at her. 

“Paige!”

Stephie scrunches up her nose at the screen, “what does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says shrilly, “Miss Buecks is just making up words.”

“Why would Miss Buecks do that?” Stephie asks, looking back and forth between her mother and the screen. 

“Why does Miss Buecks do anything,” Azzi babbles, as she begins to usher Stephie out of her room, “go grab your things Stephie-bean. Mama’s almost ready to drop you off at Nana and Pop’s house.”

Stephie pouts, “I wanna go to the party with you and Miss Buecks. It’s no fair you both get to go and I don’t,” she picks up the phone, looking at Paige with wide guilt-tripping eyes, “don’t you love me Miss Buecks?”

Azzi has to hand it to her daughter. She’s a smart one to choose Paige as the victim of her emotional blackmail, knowing her wiles had long stopped working on her mother. 

“You know I’d take you with me if I could Stephie,” Paige says, “but I’ll make it up to you tomorrow I swear.”

Stephie smiles and Azzi shakes her head at how quickly the five-year old’s plan had worked, “you’ll take me to the park and then we’ll get fries and then get ice cream?”

“That’s a lot of junk food Steph-”

“Ssshh Mama,” Stephie chides, “this is between me and Miss Buecks.”

“The park, then fries, then ice cream it is,” Paige concedes and Azzi rolls her eyes. 

Stephie grins brightly, puckering her lips to kiss Paige through the phone and eliciting a laugh from the older woman when she cheers, “you’re the best-est-est Miss Buecks. See you in a little bit. Don’t hang up without saying goodnight.”

“I promise I won’t,” Paige calls out after the little girl as Stepehie hands the phone back to Azzi and starts skipping towards her room. 

Azzi gives the blonde a look, “we have got to have a conversation about you learning to say no to her.”

Paige shrugs unhelpfully, “I don’t want to learn how to say no to her.”

“You’re a lost cause,” Azzi remarks, hands on hips, “and foreplay? Seriously? Us bickering is not foreplay.”

“Well it could be if you’d just let me fuck you after,” Paige grumbles and Azzi’s mouth falls open at the bluntness of it. 

“You say the most romantic things to me Paige Bueckers.”

They’re both quiet for a second as Azzi moves around her room, collecting her wallet and keys and to put into her purse. 

“You know there’s still time for me to come pick you up,” Paige says finally.

“Paige,” Azzi sighs, not wanting a rerun of the same argument they’ve been having for the last week. She knows it’s a touchy subject for Paige; that it veers a little too close to insecurities that stem from their past but she’s not quite ready to take this step yet. There isn’t quite any rhyme or reason to her logic except well, she’s haunted by memories of the last time they’d let the personal mix with the professional. Her phone still holds invitations to countless team reunions that she’d actively avoided and a group chat that she’s long muted. Azzi hasn’t stepped foot in the state of Connecticut since she’d entered the draft; she refuses to lose California too. 

“Teammates can carpool,” Paige explains vehemently, “it’s easily explainable.’

“I know-”

“Is this about Clémence?” bitterness tinges the edge of Paige’s voice as she chews her bottom lip. And there it is, the other subject they’d been tip-toeing around since it had been brought up at breakfast a week ago. Paige and Azzi are both excellent at avoiding talking about the harder topics but they’ve never quite managed to let anything go forever. 

“Why would this be about Clémence?” 

Paige narrows her eyes, sitting up from where she’d previously been lounging against her pillow, “maybe you don’t want her to see us together? Maybe you’re trying to spare her feelings I don’t know.”

“Paige-”

“You know what it’s fine,” Paige huffs, “I’ll see you at the bar Azzi.”

She hangs up before Azzi can say anything and the brunette lets out a litany of curses under her breath, annoyed with Paige’s ability to go from A to Z by skipping everything in between. There’s a part of her that knows Paige deserves an explanation about Clémence, a chance to have her lingering doubts confirmed or denied, but amidst the egoistic thoughts of well she married someone else and the self preservationist urge to prevent a potential fight, she hadn’t been brave enough to approach the topic just quite yet. Azzi’s about to step out of the room, when her phone pings with a facetime call from Paige again. 

“Are you calling to apologize for hanging up?” Azzi asks with a frown. 

“No,” Paige replies stubbornly, “I called because I hung up without saying goodnight to Stephie and just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I’m gonna miss saying goodnight to her.”

Something wonderful and warm blooms in Azzi’s chest as she silently walks over to Stephie’s room. This is a new chapter in Paige’s storybook that she’s slowly beginning to read; one scribbled with the blonde’s devotion to Azzi’s baby girl. Azzi still has every other chapter memorized; had thought nothing could be more beautiful than the words within the one that had been dedicated to her. But she’d been wrong. Because every day that she watches Paige and Stephie fall more and more in love with each other, she finds herself falling in love with how much they love each other. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie squeals, practically snatching the phone from her mother’s hand as she goofily grins at the screen, “you didn’t hang up.”

“I promised I wouldn’t,” Paige says, the hardness that had existed in her voice while talking to Azzi, dissolving into adulation, “you be good for Nana and Pops okay?”

“I’m always good,” Stephie says matter-of-factly, “can you come over really, really, early tomorrow?”

Paige laughs, “I’ll be there as soon as I wake up.”

“Good,” Stephie claps contentedly as she grabs Azzi’s hand to start walking towards the car, “good night Miss Buecks.”

“Good night Stephie-bean,” Paige echoes, blowing a kiss through the screen. 

“Paige,” Azzi says urgently, trying to stop the older woman from hanging up, “can you just hold on a second while I buckle Stephie in.”

“Az-”

“Please.”

“Fine,” Paige says, averting Azzi’s gaze as she sulks. 

Azzi lifts Stephie onto the car seat, fastening her seatbelt and pressing a kiss to her daughter’s cheek, before she closes the car door and uses it as a stabilizing structure to lean on as she pulls her phone back in front of her. 

“Hey,” she whispers. 

“Hi,” Paige says back begrudgingly, “you wanted to say something?”

“I-” Azzi swallows, “don’t go the bar-”

“Oh fantastic,” Paige cuts her off, her voice furious as she glares daggers at Azzi through the phone, “not only do you not want to go to the bar together, you don’t want me to go at all. Fine. Okay. Whatever. I won’t go. You have the time of your life with fucking Clementine or whatever-”

“Yet,” Azzi says loudly, trying to speak over Paige’s angry rant, “don’t go to the bar yet.”

“What?” 

Azzi licks her lips, “don’t go yet. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents-”

“What does that have to-”

“Will you just let me fucking finish?” Azzi almost bangs her fist on the car in frustration and she’s glad to see that it makes Paige look just a little bit sheepish, “as I was saying. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents and uh- your house- it’s um- it’s on the way to the bar so I thought,” she shrugs with fake nonchalance, the edge of her mouth turning upwards, “I thought maybe- maybe I could pick you up on the way.”

Paige stares blankly at the screen, eyes blinking as Azzi’s words slowly register, “you- you wanna go to the bar together?”

“I didn’t say that,” Azzi teases, eyes twinkling as she basks in the thrill of eliciting that Azzi smile from Paige’s lips, “teammates carpool right?”

“Teammates definitely carpool.”

April 2029 

“You invited Clémence to our movie night?” Jana asks in a whisper, as she walks into the kitchen where Azzi’s making popcorn. Her Saturday nights have gotten rather boring since she’s had Stephie, consisting of alternating between movie nights with Jana and dinner with her parents. It wasn’t the most thrilling of times but she looked forward to them all week, excited to not have to spend a night in solitude.

“She asked what I was doing tonight and I told her we were having a movie night and then she asked if she could join and well I couldn’t just say no,” Azzi explains, sticking the bag into the microwave. 

Jana cocks an eyebrow, “do you want me to leave?”

“Why would I want you to leave?” Azzi asks, crinkling her nose as she juts out an ear just in case the baby monitor goes off. 

“C’mon Az,” Jana says pointedly, leaning on her elbows against the kitchen counter, “you’re telling me there’s nothing going on between the two of you?”

Azzi grimaces uneasily, not quite wanting to answer the question, “nothing that would require you to leave.”

“If that’s the way you want to play it,” Jana relents, grabbing a soda from the fridge on her way back to the living room, before she pauses in the doorway to look back at Azzi, “but I know what it looks like when somebody’s in love with you. And that girl out there,” she nods her head towards where Clémence is daintily sitting on the couch, “she’s definitely getting there.”

Jana’s a rather observant person but Azzi knows that she’s at least a little bit wrong this time. Because Clémence might be a little bit in love with -even if that’s not a fact Azzi particularly wants to acknowledge- but it's impossible for her to look at Azzi the way Jana remembers someone else looking at her. That had been something completely different; a gaze that saw all the little chinks in her armor, all the imperfections carved against her walls and loved her inspite of them, maybe even because of them. Clémence might love her, but Azzi doesn’t think anyone can be in love with her the way the person she’d been hopelessly in love with, had. 

When she walks back into the living room with the popcorn in hand, still plagued by her younger teammate’s words, Azzi’s deliberate to sit on the couch next to Jana instead of the open space next to the francophone. The flash of hurt in Clémence’s eye causes guilt to trickle down her spine but Azzi thinks a flash is better than the tsunami of pain she could cause if she doesn’t start to ease herself out of this right now. There’s a selfish part of her that doesn’t want to, that’s going to miss having somebody who hangs onto her every word. Azzi likes this feeling of being wanted, even if it’s not by the person she wants. But that person isn’t hers to want anymore and she won’t torture Clémence by barricading her in the same jail that has held Azzi’s soul captive for the last four years. 

They’re about half way through the movie, awkward tension eased by Jana’s incessant chatter, when Azzi’s phone buzzes. Already confused at the timing of the call, she’s even more perplexed to see Ice’s name flashing on the screen. 

“Oooh Iceyyy,” Jana’s eyes light up when she catches a glimpse of the CallerID, “put her on speaker. Ice is one of our UConn teammates,” she explains, turning to Clémence who nods in recognition, “she probably did something dumb as fuck and need Azzi’s advice.”

“Don’t be mean,” Azzi scolds with a grin, knowing that Jana’s probably right as she picks up the call, “hello-”

“I hate you,” Azzi freezes at the sound of the familiar voice, laced with unfamiliar malice. Next to her Jana stiffens immediately while Clémence observes the scene in front of her with a guarded frown. 

“Paige who the fuck are you calling?” Ice’s voice is muffled in the background, “oh shit, Paige give me back my phone.”

“No. She needs to hear this,” Paige grits out, her pitch wavering with the effects of alcohol, “she needs to hear how much I fucking hate her. Azzi do you hear me? I can hear you breathing. I know you’re there. Did you hear what I said?”

“Paige,” Ice hisses again. 

Azzi swallows the lump in her throat, fingers digging into her bare thighs as she grips her phone so hard, she half-expects it to break into pieces in a reflection of her heart, “I heard you Paige.”

“Good. Because I do. I really fucking hate you,” Paige repeats again and Azzi flinches, “you ruined me Azzi. And now you’re ruining my marriage. My wife is perfect. She loves me. She loves being seen with me. She loves being known as my wife. Everything I ever wanted from you, she’s willing to give me. But she saw that damn hug at the Olympics and she- she’s upset with me. She thinks- she thinks I’m not over you.”

“Az maybe you should-” Jana says softly but Azzi immediately raises a hand to stop her. Maybe she’s a masochist but she can hear the hurt laced underneath the anger in Paige's voice. And if what Paige needs to get rid of her pain is a target to aim all her arrows at, then Azzi’s willing to sacrifice her heart, or at least what little is still left of it. 

“And the worst thing about it,” Paige’s voice breaks, “is that she's probably right. I have the perfect fucking woman at home and I can’t seem to get over the one who broke my heart and never looked back. Isn’t that pathetic?”

“Paige,” Ice pleads again and Azzi can hear her former teammate trying her best to wrangle the phone out of Paige’s firm grasp. 

“I’m not done yet Ice. I need to talk to her and I need to talk to her now because if I don’t, I’ll never get the courage to say any of this again,” Paige is sobbing now, and her broken whimpers pierce Azzi’s heart deeper than any words could,  “why couldn’t you just have said yes Az? I know- I know your reasons but why- why couldn’t you have just loved me enough to look past them? How do you do it Azzi? How do you live without me because it’s been four years and I- I still don’t think I know how to live without you and I hate you, I hate you because you do.”

No, Azzi thinks, I really don’t. But she doesn’t say anything, rapidly blinking back tears as she avoids both Jana’s concerned look and Clémence’s more thoughtful gaze. 

“I wish I could just feel nothing towards you Azzi,” Paige confesses, heaving as she struggles to breathe through her tears, “I don’t want to hate you. I don’t want to miss you and I really- I really, really don’t want to love you. Please just make it stop. I’m so tired of this Azzi. I’m so tired of hurting. How do I make it go away? Please tell me how I make it go away? How did you make it go away?”

“I didn’t,” Azzi whispers, so soft she’s not sure Paige heard it; she’s not sure if she wants Paige to have heard it. It’s the kind of pain, she thinks, she’s destined to feel forever. It’s weaved itself into every crevice of body and now it exists as just another innate part of her. Paige thinks Azzi’s learned to live without her but really all Azzi’s learned is how to live with these permanent scars of i think i’ll miss you forever. 

“That’s enough Paige,” Ice’s voice is clearer now, having finally snatched the phone out of her teammate’s grip, “Azzi-” she begins apologetically, “she’s just drunk. She didn’t mean-”

“She did,” Azzi clears her throat, sinking into the way Jana's arms wrap around her, “she’s um- she’s gonna be really hungover in the morning. Make sure she- make sure you give her water but don’t- don’t give her coffee. She’ll want it but it’ll only make it worse because she uh- she- when she drinks too much, her stomach hurts and the caffeine- it just- it makes it worse so- don’t let her drink coffee tomorrow morning okay? And make sure- make sure she eats something before she takes painkillers. And Ice?’

“Yeah Azzi.”

“If she doesn’t remember any of this tomorrow morning, please don’t remind her.”

***

April 2033

The bar is buzzing with noise by the time Paige and Azzi finally arrive. It’s an exclusive enough place that they won’t be too bothered by fans asking for pictures and autographs but the size of the crowd still puts Azzi a little bit on edge. She can’t help the small smile that flitters across her face when she feels Paige’s hand resting on her lower back as the blonde guides the two of them through the crowd in search of their teammates. For the last eight years, Azzi has been her own protector and she’s learned to guard herself but it’s nice -it feels right- to have someone else ready to be her shield too. 

“You know Bueckers,” Joyce says as the two of them finally approach the table that had been reserved for the Valkyries, “some might say that one should be on time when meeting their new teammates. Just a thought.”

“And some might say Edwards that being fashionably late is being on time,” Paige quips back. 

Joyce grins, “alright time for introductions.”

“I’m pretty sure I know-”

“Shut up,” Joyce reprimands, throwing an arm around Paige’s shoulders, “let me introduce these brand new people to you.”

“They’re not-”

“Sssshhh. Let me have my fun. We’ll start over here with Westbeld and Booker. You might know them, their teams kicked your ass during the 23-24 season,” Joyce says with a smirk. 

“Oh I do remember that,” Paige says thoughtfully, eyes twinkling with mirth, “what happened the season after?”

“Don’t be cocky Bueckers. It’s unbecoming,” Madison chides as she rises from the table to give Paige a hug. 

“Yeah I try not to remember that Elite Eight game thanks,” Laila says, making a disgusted face. 

Joyce glares at her, “did I introduce you yet Miss Phelia?”

Laila raises her hands in surrender as Joyce continues to give Paige a tour of the Valkyrie team. Azzi had known that Paige would fit in well with her teammate -really the blonde had the uncanny ability to fit in anywhere- but seeing it realized in front of her, it seems even clearer. Paige feels like the last mosaic piece, slotting in right where she belongs. 

“Those two over there are our babies,” Joyce points to Haylen and Jayla, “they’re like five years old but we love them anyways.”

“I’m almost 25,” Haylen protests. 

“See,” Joyce remarks, “literally children. And that one,” she points to Jana who beams at Paige, “well you already know her even if you sometimes wish you didn’t probably-”

“Hey!”

“Oh shush Jana,” Joyce says airily, “and I supposed there’s no point in introducing Azzi to you since y’all came together,” she pauses to look between them, “y’all don’t live that close to each other. Why didn’t you just carpool with Jana? I’m pretty sure she lives closer to you.”

Paige opens and closes her mouth a couple of times as Azzi feels her own cheeks heat up at the innocent enough question, “we um- well it's just- you see- my house is on the way from her parents and she had to drop off Stephie so it just- it just made sense you know? For efficiency’s sake.”

“Oh yeah for efficiency’s sake. They’re both very efficient,” Jana smirks, “makes a lot of sense.”

Joyce gives all three of them a weird look, “y’all Huskies are strange. It was just a question but anyways,” she grins as she finally steers Paige towards the blonde in the corner and Azzi stiffens at the way Paige’s body immediately tenses, “a couple of our teammates aren’t here but we do have a former teammate. Paige meet Clémence.”

“We’ve met,” Paige says, attempting to school her features to resemble anything but the discomfort she’s feeling within, “during the Olympics that is. We’ve beat France a couple of times.”

It’s a purposeful word choice, beat instead of played and Azzi's fingers fidget with the hem of her top as she tries to avoid looking at either of the two women. 

“Yes. It is good to see you again,” Clémence says tersely, her French accent stronger than the last time Azzi had spoken to her. She shakes Paige’s hand rather formally before her eyes focus on Azzi and she determinedly walks towards the brunette, “and it is really good to see you Azzi. I have missed you.”

“I-” Azzi stutters at the French woman pulls her into a hug; over her shoulder she can practically see steam coming out of Paige’s ears as she hyper focuses on how Clémence makes it a point rub her thumb down Azzi’s back, “it’s um- it’s good to see you too.”

She pulls away and she can feel the disappointment reverberating from Clémence’s body as Azzi practically flings herself on the chair next to Jana, wondering what she’d done to deserve this moment as a punishment for her sins. 

“Save me,” she pleads as Clémence and Paige sit as far away from each other as possible, occasionally shooting glares when they think the other isn’t looking. 

“Save you from having two hot women fighting over you?” the center teases, “you truly have such first world problems Azzi Fudd.”

“They’re not fighting over me-”

“Azzi you will have your usual rum and coke no?” Clémence asks and Azzi looks over to where the francophone is intently staring at her, “I will go-”

“Oh there’s no need,” Paige says immediately, “you sit Clémence. You already have a drink. I was gonna go get one for myself and I’ll get Azzi’s too. Besides, Azzi's more of a fruity drink girl. Az I’ll get you a piña colada-”

Clémence narrows her eyes, “maybe she liked that when she was in college but Azzi likes something different now.”

“She might like something different now,” Paige counters, standing up aggressively so she towers over the table, “but she’s always gonna love a piña colada right Azzi?”

All eyes turn to look at Azzi who wants nothing more than to cower under the table- or hit Jana who seems to find this very unamusinging situation rather entertaining, “I um-” she swallows, “I think tonight calls for something stronger. Round of shots for the table? On me?”

It placates the situation for a while as the rest of the team cheers on the idea, beckoning over one of the bartenders to orders a round of tequila shots for the table. For a moment, Azzi tricks herself into thinking maybe that’ll be the end of ridiculous situations for the night as the team downs shots to Jana yelling “to the Valkyries” but she should have known it was wishful thinking.

Half the team ends up on the dance floor, swaying to the mixed rhythm of the music and the newly minted alcohol coursing through their bloodstreams. Azzi watches with a smile as despite her protests, Joyce manages to drag Paige onto the dance floor with her, engaging her in some eccentric dance moves as they try to outdo each other on who can look the silliest. And as the rest of the girls cheer the blonde on, it feels like Paige is chiseling out a place for herself in another part of Azzi’s world. 

“She is easy to love,” Clémence’s hot breath fans Azzi’s ear as the francophone takes Jana’s empty seat next to the brunette. 

“Clém-” Azzi sighs. 

“She fits in well with the team,” Clémence continues, something wistful in her voice, “I have seen her play. She will fit in well on the court with you guys as well. She will fit in well next to you.”

“That’s the hope,” Azzi says softly as she tilts her head to look at the other woman, “you fit in well too. I mean it Clém. We’ll miss you at GSV.”

Clémence smiles bitterly, “I would have liked to stay but they needed the cap space so they could sign her. She- she’s quite expensive. I mean considering she is casually wearing swarovski crystals on her neck in a bar on a random Saturday night, I am not surprised.”

The two of them laugh despite the gravity that looms heavily over them. Azzi and Clémence haven’t been anything in a long time but she’d never quite shut the possibility of a potential future done. She can hear the lock ready to click now. It’s bittersweet doing the right thing but as Paige glances over from the dancefloor, eyes darting cautiously between the two of them, Azzi knows that she doesn’t want to keep any other doors open. Not when the one with Paige’s name etched on the door handle, leads to home. 

“One last dance?” Clémence asks softly, holding out her hand. 

Azzi hesitates, knowing that it would irritate Paige but she thinks she probably owes Clémence this and so she smiles and takes the francophone’s outstretched hand as they join their other teammates. It’s nothing beyond friendly and they both keep their hands to themselves as they sway to the music, but Azzi can feel the annoyance radiating off of Paige from across the dancefloor. She would never admit it, perhaps it’s a little toxic of her, but there’s a certain thrill to making Paige jealous. There’s something about the way the blonde’s blue eyes flare with ice cold envy, the way her jaw hardens as she grinds her teeth. The way she looks at Azzi like if she had her way she’d drag the brunette out of the bar and mark her with a possessive you’re mine you’re mine youre mine. It makes Azzi clench her thighs together as she tries to focus on Clémence. 

“I understand now,” the francophone says thoughtfully as Azzi’s peers up at her in confusion, “when you told me that you could not be with me. I get it.”

“I don’t-”

“You are here with me but you aren’t actually. You will always be with her,” Clémence tilts her head towards Paige, “you always have been. I understand now,” she says again simply before her face hardens, “even after all those words she said to you on the phone that night.”

Azzi’s stomach curls at the reminder. She knows exactly what night Clémence is referring to. Sometimes when she closes her eyes, it’s those words, coated in anger and malice, that shower around her like acid rain, seeping into her skin and infecting her bloodstream.

“I told you, you deserved better,” Clémence says and Azzi gulps, “but you said- you said you deserved worse. I hope you don’t believe that anymore Azzi. Just because you hurt her doesn’t mean you need to let her hurt you too.”

“I-” Azzi’s cut off by a hard body ramming into her own and she feels herself going stumbling back into the unwanted arms of a random man, “I’m sorry,” she says tersely, struggling to get out his grip. 

“No worries pretty girl,” he says toothily, the heavy stench of alcohol in his breath making Azzi feel nauseous, “but now that you’re here, how about I buy you a drink.”

“No thank you,” Azzi says sternly, trying to push the man away but he’s relentless. 

“Aw c’mon don’t be like that sweetheart,” the term of endearment sounds like an insult falling from his lips and Azzi loses her patience, stomping her heel into the man’s foot to finally free herself from his grip and he yelps in surprise.

“I said no thank you.”

“What the fuck,” the man spits out, standing up as Azzi takes a step back. He’s got some muscle and although, despite his bravado, she knows she’s strong enough to take him, she’d rather not create a scene. Her plan is to walk away. Paige seems to have other ideas, suddenly materializing in between Azzi and the man, a furious look on her face as she squares him up. 

“Do we have a problem?” the blonde asks menacingly. 

“Nothing other than your little friend here being a fucking bitch.”

Paige’s eyes darken as she takes a threatening step towards him, prevented from going further only by the way Azzi immediately laces a hand around her wrist, “what the fuck did you call her?”

“I called her a-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Azzi cuts in, stepping in between a glaring Paige and a man who’s clearly underestimating her strength, “let it go Paige.”

“Yeah,” the man mocks, “let it go Paige.”

“You fucking-” Paige tries to lunge at him but Azzi’s quick to shove her back gently. 

“Don’t cause a scene,” she warns. 

“Azzi-”

“Paige please.”

“Holy shit,” the man wolf-whistles, “y’all play for the Valks. You’re Azzi Fudd. I know you.”

“Good for you,” Azzi spits out at him before turning her attention back to Paige, who looks like she could kill the man if given the chance, “c’mon let's go back to our tab-”

“It’s funny you’re acting like such a fucking prude when you have a bastard chi-”

An unmistakable crunch rings out through the bar as the man goes flying backwards. Azzi’s knuckles are bleeding as her breath comes out in ragged huffs. She hadn’t wanted to cause a scene; could have walked away from a man being a drunken idiot, could have walked away from being called a bitch or hell, even something worse. But the man had attacked the one part of her that she’d always be ready to go to war for. He’d brought up Stephie and she’d seen red. Her fist had moved of it's own accord.

Paige doesn’t say anything and Azzi can feel the anger still vibrating from the older woman’s body as she roughly grabs Azzi’s unhurt hand.

“Let’s go,” the blonde’s voice is eerily low, “we’re going home.”

***

It’s a subconscious choice to let Paige drive Azzi’s car even though they’ve both sobered up considerably, not that one shot had done much in the first place. It’s a subconscious choice that Azzi reaches over to lace her fingers through Paige’s free hand, resting it on her lap, as the blonde use her other hand to grip the steering wheel. It’s a subconscious choice that they end up driving to Azzi’s house in complete silence. She’s not sure who’s mad at who, if they’re even mad at each other or that man or just the world but she can feel the fury suffocating the air. 

“Where’s your first-aid kit?” Paige says gruffly as Azzi unlocks the door. 

“Bathroom,” Azzi says quietly and Paige is off towards it before the word has even fully left the brunette’s mouth. Azzi scrambles after her, pausing in the doorway as Paige rummages through drawers, knowing better than to interrupt to help when Paige looks livid like this.

“Sit,” Paige points to the sink once she’s finally found the sanitizer and gauze to clean up dried up blood staining Azzi’s knuckles. 

“I can do it my-”

Paige glares at her, “just sit on the fucking sink Azzi.”

Putting away her own irritation at being told what to do, Azzi lifts herself onto the flat surface of the sink, opening her legs slightly so that Paige can stand between them. Despite still quivering with barely concealed rage, Paige’s touch is gentle as she dabs at the remnants of red liquid on Azzi’s hand. 

“You should’ve just let me punch him when I wanted to,” she says finally. 

“So you could be the one bleeding?” Azzi raises an eyebrow. 

“No because he would’ve never gotten the courage to say shit about Stephie if you’d just let me kill him when he called you a bitch,” Paige bites out venomously. 

“And let you go to jail? I couldn’t do that to Stephie,” Azzi tries to lighten the tension in the room, “she’d miss you too much. 

“This isn’t funny, Azzi,” Paige seethes as she begins to wrap the white gauze around the wound. 

“I know,” the younger woman says, trailing her other hand down Paige’s arms trying to soothe her anger, “but it’s fine-”

“It’s not fucking fine,” Paige yells. 

“Baby-” the word slips out from Azzi’s lips before she can catch it. She hasn’t used it for someone other than Stephie in so long that it feels foreign on her lips and yet, it fits exactly right. 

“Did you call Clémence that too?” and there it is, the real reason behind the volcano erupting as Paige decidedly looks away from Azzi. 

Azzi narrows her eyes, “I don’t know Paige. Did you call Olivia that?”

“That’s different,” Paige grits out, “Olivia was my wife.”

Azzi flinches at the word; hates that somebody else had ever had the honor of being called that even if she knows it’s unfair of her to feel that way when she’s the one that had turned it down first. 

“Exactly,” she says slowly, “you married someone else-” she holds up a hand when Paige protests, “I know. I know I said no but you married someone else Paige. So you don’t get to be mad at me for having something with someone else too.”

Paige is quiet for a moment and Azzi sees the exact moment the fight leaves her body as she lets out a sigh, leaning her head against Azzi’s shoulder. 

“You’re right,” Paige whispers into Azzi’s neck, hands moving to rest against the brunette’s thighs. 

Azzi runs her hand through Paige’s hair, brushing it in tandem with the harmony of her breathing, “we can’t keep throwing the past in each other’s face, Paige.”

“I know,” Paige breath tickles against Azzi’s skin and she shivers in spite of the tense moment,“I just-” the blonde lifts her head to look at Azzi, “I need to know who Clémence was to you. You- you know what Olivia was to me and I- I just need to know the same about Clémence.”

“She-” Azzi hesitates, “we hooked up a couple of times,” she squeezes Paige’s hand when the blonde flinches, “but then she- she wanted more but I couldn’t- I couldn’t do that. Partly because I didn’t- I didn’t feel the same- don’t look so smug,” Azzi chides when a small grin forms on Paige’s face, “and partly because we were on the same team. I didn’t want to complicate things, not like last time. Feel like I should probably have a rule not to date teammates.”

“Right.”

Azzi watches the cogs turning in Paige’s brain and she reaches out a hand to ease the creases forming on her forehead, “what are you thinking Bueckers?”

“I just-” Paige bites her lip, “what about me?”

“What about you?”

“I mean we’re gonna be- I mean we are- we’re on the same team too,” Paige says and Azzi can hear the insecurity of will you leave me again weaved through her voice. 

“You don’t get it yet do you,” Azzi whispers, reaching up to cup Paige’s face, “baby you are the exception to all of my rules.”

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 1

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Summary: The Atreides daughter is sent off to Giedi Prime to marry the Harkonnen heir in an attempt to quell the feuding Great Houses. The bride, however, must prove her grit and earn the respect of her new family if she is to survive her new life. Perhaps she will find that she had more Harkonnen in her than she thought.

TW: none (for now)

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut (just not in this chapter lmao), No use of y/n, Original Characters, cannon what cannon

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Please bear with me, it has been ages since I've written anything and this is my first ever work of fanfiction. I've never written in the second person before so if you catch any mistakes, especially in verb tenses, please let me know. English is not my first language. Also, this might start out a bit slow but I promise things will pick up soon.

The smell of grass and the crashing waves of Caladan brought you comfort as you stood before the starship that had been rented from the Spacing Guild.

Your brother had insisted on accompanying you to Giedi Prime, but a round trip would have been unnecessarily expensive, even with the vast wealth of your Great House. Besides, it would be foolish to deliver the heir of House Atreides to the home world of their sworn enemies. It was bad enough they had to send you there.

"Give them hell," Paul teased as he hugged you goodbye.

You laughed, but you knew his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He had faith in your strength and ferocity, but he had much less faith in the hospitality of the Harkonnens.

"I'll miss you," you pull away and try to give him a reassuring smile but you, yourself, are not so certain of your fate.

You made your way to your mother, next in line to bid you farewell.

"Remember your training." Lady Jessica held your face and planted a tender kiss on your forehead. She had already given you all the advice she could.

You take her hands in yours and kiss them. "I will," you tell her solemnly.

You finally make it to your father, whose eyes are already welling with tears.

"My darling princess," his voice cracks as he lays a hand on your cheek. The Duke may seem a stoic man to most, but those who truly knew him knew he had a big heart.

Perhaps it is because you are one of those people that you finally feel that weight in your chest that you've been dreading since the signing of your marriage pact. It will be a truly long time before you would see your family again. If you could ever see them at all.

The Duke waves at an attendant who approaches with a silver tray. Leto takes the dagger resting on it and places it in your hands. "To remind you that you will always be an Atreides, that you will always be my daughter."

You let your tears fall as you hold the gift close to your chest.

"Don't cry now," your father pulls you into a hug, hoping to hide his own tears, "or I might never let you go."

You let a laugh slip through the sobs. You knew it was already decided and it is your duty to fulfill. The Sisterhood and the Emperor himself endorsed the match. Nothing could change it now.

The harsh light of Giedi Prime's black sun assaulted your eyes as you made your way down the starship's gangplank. The stark, high-contrast black and white made everything a pain to look at. You were thankful for the veils of your travelling gowns for providing you at least some shade.

You were greeted by House Harkonnen's steward, Jaromir Naggul, and swiftly led into the imposing, Brutalist fortress of their stronghold. You were almost happy to escape the infrared outside.

"Your belongings are being sent to your new quarters as we speak," Jaromir, a lanky but stately man, informs you. "You may change out of your traveling clothes and rest there. The Baron will receive you in the throne room in the afternoon."

You note his accent and the mild contempt in his voice, as if you were an inconvenience.

"This is Iassa," he gestures to one of the servants that had been following you through the halls. "She is your assigned slave. Should you need anything, you may tell her."

The word almost knocks the breath out of you.

You eyes turn to Iassa in her pale gray robes and you give her a polite nod. She hastily curtsies in return.

You knew the Harkonnens and even the Emperor kept slaves, but you suppose it never occurred to you that you would be charged with one yourself.

"Of course," Jaromir continues, "any of the servants in the fortress will be at your command, but Iassa will be in waiting for you in particular."

"Of course," you reply coldly.

"You will be staying in the guest wing for now," Jaromir says as he shows you the door to your quarters. "Of course, until your wedding. When you will then be moved to the na-Baron's apartments."

"...of course," you repeat, grateful again for your veils that they hide your dread.

You are silent as Iassa helps you into a black gown for your audience with the baron. It is the fashionable color in the Harkonnen home world. Although there were many other 'fashionable' traits on Giedi Prime, this was the only one you felt comfortable adopting right now. The complete lack of hair in every individual you had seen was certainly unsettling, but you sensed it would be rude to speak about it.

"What is the na-Baron like?" you ask.

Iassa pauses her fastening of your dress, she swallows. "He is a fearsome warrior, my lady," she keeps her gaze averted, "handsome and popular with the people."

Her voice was shaky but she seemed genuine. You only wonder if those words hold the same implications here as they do back home.

You look over to Iassa as she fetches your shoes. It's not difficult to see that she fears you. You cannot help but feel that that is all there is. You are still an off-worlder. An Atreides no less. She harbors no respect for you.

You take care to style your hair in the fashions of Caladan, fastening a falcon-like pin at the back of your head. The symbol of your house. Perhaps it is a risky choice, to be seen as defiant by the baron should he notice, but you could already feel the black sun beginning to drain the life out of you. The thrill of quiet defiance would have to sustain you for now.

Jaromir returns in time to fetch you and you are led to the throne room.

The baron's grotesque floating body looms over you and his subjects. You had never met any of the Harkonnens before but you were sure that was him.

"Welcome to your new home, Lady Atreides," the Baron utters your last name with thinly veiled loathing. "Let me present my nephew, Feyd-Rautha."

A tall muscular young man steps forward. Stately and regal as a Harkonnen could be, he looks over you with condescending eyes.

He certainly looked like a warrior, and you could see how the people of Giedi Prime could find him handsome, but you find yourself wanting to spit in his face.

"Forgive me for not greeting you when you landed, my lady," the na-Baron bows to you. His gravelly voice sends a chill down your spine, "I was preoccupied at the time. I trust you have settled well?"

You curtsy in turn, "I'm sure my lord had important duties to attend to. I am grateful for your hospitality. My rooms are very comfortable."

"Do not find them too comfortable young lady," the Baron calls from afloat his chair, "your wedding celebrations are to begin and you will be sharing rooms with my nephew before long."

Feyd-Rautha smirks at this and you are almost willing to cast decorum aside to slap it off his face.

"Tomorrow, your groom will take part in the arena to demonstrate his prowess as a worthy husband and leader, as per the traditions of our house," the Baron announces. "I'm sure you will make a point to attend."

"I would not miss it, dear Baron."

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

[sehodreams]

https://x.com/archivetic/status/1758340676193046872?s=46

Anton's milf neighbour asked him to coach her and this is what it lead up to

Link (nsfw)

This was so good, my mind can't deal with all the scenarios, I quickly did this one but I imagined so many things I couldn't do something shorter.

TW and tags: dubcon at the start, humping, cheating, married!reader x younger!neighbor!Anton. WC: 1.9k

Anton had seen you walking around the neighborhood before, you were a young wife that had just moved with his older husband not many months ago, a pretty little thing that stayed alone in her big house obediently waiting for her husband to come back home and that always made his mother laugh.

You had started to warm up with the other mothers not long after you settled in, and you didn't have a child, but you had said how much you expected one, reason why you moved to his neighborhood, a calm part of the city with good schools around that looked out of a movie, the perfect place to start a family, so all of them welcomed you with open arms to the group.

His mother was one of the many wives that decided to dedicate to her family, and now that he was a lot older, had enough free time to befriend the neighbors and go out to enjoy her afternoons with the company of women like her, a group that happily included you.

"She said she's trying to get in shape before her anniversary, maybe you could help her and earn some pocket money this summer" she told him while they were having dinner. Anton was there only for the summer break and he didn't need to work, he never did it, but some extra cash sounded good, and when his dad nodded to what his mother said, it was decided, he'd go and coach the new cute neighbor.

When he knocked on your door you instantly melted his heart with your voice saying Just a second please, and when he saw your pretty smile saying his name, he knew he was fucked, "Anton, I've heard so much about you from your mother, thank you for helping me, I have no idea how to start".

You really had no idea how to start, a pretty little thing like you had never stepped into a gym or done any physical activity that didn't involve lifting your plants in your garden or pushing your furniture to rearrange the aesthetic of your living room.

He can guess why your husband snatched you so fast, if he had been in his place, he'd have done it too, the only thing your traditional family had taught you was how to be a good girl, and he was sure a man like the one you were with had smelled how fresh you were before he trapped you into marrying him.

You were older than him, five years at most, and you were almost three years married already, which meant you were barely older than him before you said yes to the housewife lifestyle.

You dropped out of college, you lived far from your family, and you didn't have friends your age. He was the closest thing you had to the taste of youth, and you received him so easily and with such honest intentions that, little by little, he had started to feel bad for taking advantage of you while training.

"Uhm do you really have to massage that place?" You asked when he made you lie over your stomach one day and his hands pressed its way from your calf to your ass, groping it with the excuse of not risking an injury before your session.

"Yes, we can't let you get hurt, we need to make sure your muscles here are relaxed enough before we continue" he said, making you nod. You weren't the expert, he was, he had trained for so many years, how could you even question his methods?

He had convinced you that everything he did was for your benefit, and if his hand pressed spots like under your chest, the inside of your thighs, or even your ass, it was only to check on your health.

You were uncomfortable with his touch, but you couldn't deny it, it also made your insides tingle, and you felt an excitement you had missed for a long time.

When you were young you would have that exact feeling when your friends told you to sneak out for a party since your dad never let you go out late, or when you knew your curfew was getting closer but you had already lied saying how you were studying at your friend's house when all you were doing was watch movies or talk about boys.

It's not that you don't like the married lifestyle, you love it, you don't have to think about what to do for work or how to pay your bills, you don't have to worry about your dad yelling at you for getting low grades and you can simply enjoy your day if you cleaned and had your husband's dinner ready before he arrived.

However, you couldn't say you were completely satisfied either.

Your husband was handsome and nice, but sometimes he couldn't make you feel as good as when you started accepting him into your bed, it seemed that after the honeymoon phase he was more interested in his big cases than helping you cum at night, and you were getting a bit bored of the exact same routine every day, waking up, cooking, dusting your living room, checking that your plants were okay and then waiting for him to arrive and repeat.

If it wasn't for the older ladies, you would have started crocheting to see if that kept you busy enough.

Still, even if Anton's touch made you feel good, you knew it was wrong to feel like that with another man's hands. You were a good girl, a good wife, and having your panties dripping after your cute younger neighbor came to help you train one hour a day was something that made you feel ashamed of yourself.

The worst part was that you couldn't hide it. Your cheeks would get red every time his mother said hi to you in the supermarket or when all the neighborhood wives met to have a cup of tea.

"I hope my son is treating you well" she would say, and you would only nod with a smile, hiding your face with your cup or grabbing one of the numerous mini snacks to change the subject into how kind the host that day was.

You were sure no one would blame you if they were in your situation. The sensation of the touch from a man like Anton, so big ang strong, would make anyone weak. His hands on your hips and his cock on your ass when he made you do sit ups, or his fingers sinking into the side of your chest to make sure your position didn't break while you lifted those dumbbells would push any other woman like you into doing even more, so you tried to just brush off those thoughts, because, after all, you never crossed any line.

Or at least you never did it until that day.

Anton had made you lie over your back this time, and your eyes tried to not look at the pretty boy over you, focusing on your white ceiling instead.

"Tell me if it hurts, okay? We need to check your flexibility before we try the next exercise" he said while lifting one of your legs and, with his crotch against your clothed sex, putting it over his shoulder.

Your heart started to pound and a choked whimper left your throat when you felt the first push.

Anton was pushing your leg as much as he could with the help of his weight over you, and he wasn't hard, but you could still feel his member and its form opening your lips and resting between them as if it belonged there.

You tried to ignore the way his hand had a firm grip over the back of your thigh and the exhale he gave when he pushed his cock against you once again, getting slightly harder with each thrust.

That wasn't just warming up at all, you weren't that dumb to not notice the way his hips were clashing harder and harder against you, the sounds that left his mouth were too obscene to be a mere exercise, and if anyone could see you two like that, they would instantly notice that something else was starting to happen to the boy.

You moved your eyes from the ceiling to his face, and you could see how his eyes were fluttering and he tried to control his breathing without success. The saliva accumulating inside his mouth made him gulp with every push and his eyes started to get more shiny with every second that passed.

He had a full erection at some point, and you should've stopped him, you told yourself to push him out of your way and warn him to never come back if he didn't want to hear from your husband, but just that little action of his hips against yours made you dizzy, a similar sensation to when husband first touched you, and you needed an orgasm so much that your body, instead of listening to your mind and do what was correct, opened your legs to complete receive him.

He didn't waste any second and started to rut against you, and the two of you were dressed, so you tried to convince yourself that it wasn't incorrect if it wasn't sex.

If you didn't take anything off, if you didn't let him sink his cock inside you, it wasn't cheating. You were just helping a young boy to find some relief, and that was almost like an exercise too, you two were fully clothed and you were dripping over each other, but it was like sweat, so that should be considered more as stretching than anything else, right?

You couldn't hold your voice back, Anton was pounding so deliciously over you that your insides started to clench, and you started to wonder, if he felt that good without directly touching you, how would he would make you feel if he just fucked you.

He was a lot bigger than your husband, his tip was leaving a big wet spot over his joggers and your yoga pants were getting dirty with your own slick, showing him exactly where he should thrust with his cock.

"This is just exercise, you need to train your core too" he said, and you, even if you knew it was all pure bullshit, nodded.

"You're right, Anton, I need it" you cried when you felt yourself getting closer to your orgasm.

Clenching over nothing, with hips jolting to meet his, you felt yourself cumming hard inside your pants, and he, doing it at the same time, left a loud moan while his hands pressed hard at your thighs.

He tried to control how much he was panting, his forehead was wet and his cock was twitching inside his clothes, a mess he would have to hide until he ran to his house at the end of the street and that made him wish he could let everything out inside your warm walls the next time.

He could already imagine how pretty you would look opening your legs and showing him your naked cunt so he could give you what your husband couldn't, because if you were so needy, Anton was sure it was his fault that you accepted someone else's touch.

Before he gave you a last thrust, out of greed because he didn't have anything else to pour, he talked, "we should repeat it, stretching is really important, so, tomorrow same time?"

[somethingpersonarelated]

On simplifying Akechi

My brain was ridden with these ideas people have about Akechi that piss me off a little. Mostly ones that say he is "just crazy" or "just hates Joker." There's countless metaposts countering these arguments (and they are absolutely wonderful) but I often wonder WHY simplifying Akechi down is so appealing, even to people who are fans of his character. I can't say I've never been immune to simplifications of his character either, and I feel like that's important to admit. I don't even think it's necessarily a bad thing, but I was wondering about that why question.

TW: Discussions of mental health and child abuse

Source: A high schooler's holiday from the P5 Comic Anthology (read it here!)

I do think it's hard for all of the little things Akechi's character builds upon to be conveyed through a single playthrough. If you go in blind or don't finish his confidant, you may only get that surface level exploration of his character. Base Akechi is flashy and still gets the point across that it needs to: he's a foil to Joker and the PTs. However, by missing out on his social links and special events, you miss cultural, relationship, and personal context.

Many words have been said about the translation, particularly in the engine room, being faulty in areas. But some people still don't understand that Akechi's plan isn't to kill Shido, even when the text makes that clear. There's also this scene with Shido, which reads more as an exposition dump in a long section of the game most players will either tune out or skip. Not everything you see will always stick in your head, and Persona is a LONG game. I feel like it's easy to forget people just... forget canon sometimes. It's easier to put these details aside and say Akechi isn't affected by the system he's raised in. But the reality is, you miss what Lavenza says about Akechi's role, you miss that one exposition scene, and you miss the confidant: you believe Akechi had much more autonomy than was actually true. In conversations I've had with people IRL about Persona, 2/3 either skipped or did not finish Akechi's confidant. It isn't improbable, playtimes can range from 100-300 hours, most playthroughs take weeks. People will forget things. It isn't a maybe, it WILL happen.

When the game feeds you so much information, it's also easier to take what the characters say at face value. Doing this with Akechi will bite your ass. Those words in Rank 8 are directly expanded upon in No More What Ifs, the engine room, and 2/2. Maruki and Morgana confirm Akechi doesn't hate Joker, but you never hear Akechi say it himself. To me the game beats you over the head with this information (as the game has a tendency to do for certain situations), but I've also been in the rabbit hole for over a year now.

There's also this idea that recognizing that Akechi was set up by Yaldabaoth, his upbringing, and Shido means that all the venom is taken away from his actions. That isn't true, and Akechi holds to that in third semester. He doesn't give himself any grace for the situation he landed in, wanting to take accountability for it when it is undone without his consent. Akechi is by no means a perfect victim, and he doesn't believe that either. Recognizing that he had no choice, it was either homelessness and neglect or the plan he conjured himself only brings to light the tragedy of his situation, not whether his actions were morally incorrect. He wanted his father to be in his life, and he wanted his father to suffer. He wanted to have someone like Ren in his life, and he couldn't have someone like Ren because his plan would be jeopardized. It's a series of choices, some of which are forced upon him, some of which he chooses himself. That is an important distinction to make.

There's also this idea that Akechi is 'just crazy,' or never suffered from abuse or events that affected him long term. That he doesn't suffer from unspecified mental health conditions or trauma, and chose everything with a clear mind. When someone brings up this argument, it's usually in response to people talking about his life experiences. That somehow, the existence of trauma or a condition is an excuse for whatever he did. There's a double standard here: Akechi is someone who suffers from a condition that makes him 'plain crazy', simplifying his entire motivation and role in the story, while also removing him from the context of his mother, Shido, and his experience with the foster system. Actually interacting with these facets of his character brings to light the challenging things the story asks you to think about when it comes to Akechi: Is he a victim? Is he like the Phantom Thieves? What about his situation informed his choices? Interacting with this requires effort and an actual acknowledgement about what it means to be someone that suffers from trauma. Calling him 'plain crazy' not only is in disservice of textual analysis, but more importantly incorrect (and frankly, it falls straight into ableist tropes about mental health).

Sometimes internet debates/discourse lead to simplification, even just random headcanons may lead to simplification. That isn't always bad. There are many ways to say what I said here in fewer words. I, unfortunately, am not skilled enough to do that. But some of these simplifications lead to entirely incorrect judgements about a character, or even about mental health issues. When that happens, I wish people would learn to reflect about what that means when they interact with a piece of media. Or even with other people.

tldr: people should learn to say they just don't like things instead of coming up with excuses that make no sense. basically

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

(short continuation to the prompt I wrote, which is linked below. I thought I was done with this, but then @victoria-has-no-secret and @bluerosefox had some ideas to incorporate into it. Screenshots of said ideas are also below but are sprinkled throughout the post too.)

(*) = Me building off of other ideas

TW: mentions of animal death

← previous

✦

After the whole fiasco with the Justice League, Danny gets an idea. Not very many people actually know about Laika, at least from what he could see of the majority of the Justice League who had never learned about her. Although, to be fair, a lot of them come from different planets. Either way, it gives Danny the idea to create a YouTube channel starring Laika to teach the people of Earth about the pup.

The channel immediately garners attention from all around the world, and even winds up on a couple of news stations too! It grows so much that Danny decides to expand further than just Laika, but to the other things that were sent into space in the quest for knowledge: The space rovers as well as many other animals.

Laika even leads Danny to them as he ventures further into space with a specially made camera that can withstand traversing space and the differing atmosphereic conditions of other planets. He manages to find every single one of them, discovering that maybe Laika hadn't been as alone as he'd first thought as he watches and records her playing with the spirits (imprints?) of the rovers, chimps, mice, and many other animals haunting the endless void of the cosmos.

People back on earth are going wild with the knowledge that their hopes, thoughts, and feelings helped to give life to beings that had long been dead/stopped working. They have no idea what to feel about this new information except an amalgamation of pure awe, curiosity, joy, guilt, and sadness. They still mourned the loss of Laika, the rovers, and everyone before and after them, but knowing that their existence wasn't completely lost soothed an ache many didn't know they carried with them when they were there to witness the beginning of such astronomical leaps in technology.

To also know that out of the many stars shooting across the sky, one of them might be Laika happily racing amongst the stars with her friends brought many to tears. At every opportunity, they wished for the sweet pup's happiness and the continuing health of their own furry companions down on Earth with them. They also wished that upon the eventuality that they have to part with their companions that maybe a few of them would join Laika and her friends in stars to keep them company for many years to come.

Although many of these wishes were heard by Desiree, she refused to touch such hopeful and well-meaning wishes for fear of twisting them in unseemly ways, allowing them to form on their own. The other ghosts among Danny's rouges even made a deal with each other to not interfere or attack the town when Danny was recording his videos out in space.

It was beyond bad manners to interfere with another ghost's obsession, after all.

✦

I'm gonna go cry some more. I've learned more about the progress of space exploration in the past couple hours than I probably should. This is the last thing I'm adding onto this prompt. If any of y'all wanna continue it, be my guest!

Notes:

(*) One more thing to add. Where are the ghost hunters/Guys in White during all of this? If they start making a fuss over Phantom and all the ghost animals, do they get a bunch of civilians raiding their government facilities and causing them bodily harm? What's happening with the Justice League? Are they sitting back and eating popcorn while all this goes down? Who knows. :)

[ofallthingsnasty]

What one piece characters do you think would be into petplay? Either way, being the pet, or forcing someone to be theirs?

When you sent this, I immediately started typing up a storm about Doffy and Arlong - but to be real, I've written so much about pet play and those two that it feels kind of stale to simply repeat myself... So let me link my thirst masterlist in reference to them and talk about others for once, haha 😅

characters: mihawk, boa, sanji, zoro, kid tw: pet play, mostly consensual but also one entry for noncon petplay, minors dni word count: 1.3k

So let’s start with the ones who enjoy it consensually!

One that comes to mind is Mihawk. Classy. Refined. Loyal. Someone who is all about a 24/7 dynamic - to him, it’s not a kink, it’s a lifestyle. He’s a busy man who enjoys his time off, who loves nothing more than you waiting bare and on your knees whenever he returns from a longer trip, who wants to lead gently and have someone follow eagerly. He doesn’t want to whittle down your resolve, he wants to teach you simply because you desire to; and he wants to be as good to you as you are to him. He is all about rules and rewards and he is one thing that many aren’t: fair. He doesn’t provoke you, doesn’t tease you until you lash out, doesn’t punish due to arbitrary, fictional rules, doesn’t withhold rewards - he is very by-the-book and correct, but also kind. Of course, Mihawk expects a certain level of maturity and tranquility from his partner, but he can forgive transgressions when needed. Whenever you misbehave, lash out, don’t act like you’re supposed to - there is a reason for that, a reason he’ll identify and address. Doesn’t mean you won’t get punished for it - but he is more than understanding. Everyone deserves a bad day, maybe two, and everyone should be heard. All in all, a very kind owner, one that makes play almost cozy. If you want to feel like you’re thoroughly loved, utterly adored and valued - he is the man for you. If you’re obedient.

Boa Hancock is also someone to consider. She isn’t as refined as Mihawk - given that she slips into treating you like a pet without really being aware of the dynamic Frankly, she couldn’t even call herself your owner if she wanted to - no matter the context, she despises that word and any iterations of it. Not with her past, her trauma, her deepest, darkest fears of her and her people falling prey to others ever again. She doesn't own you (never will) - but that doesn’t mean that she won’t treat you like a prized possession an awful lot. It’s just that she’s entirely and unpredictably unconventional about it. There are no rules. There are no punishments. There is only Boa and her never-ending adoration. And yet - you will feel just like a little dog, a cat, maybe even a colorful bird she keeps hemming and hawing over. You’re her partner, best friend, plush toy all in one; you soothe, you calm and you delight her. You are truly unique to her - and she’d be a fool to let you slip through her fingers.  Under her care, you’ll be nothing but horribly spoiled. Anything you could ever ask for, anything you might just even think of wanting - you’ll have it. And then some. Really, you don’t even need to throw temper tantrums, you’ll just have to pout a little and you’ll have whatever you desire in no time. In turn, she wants you to love her, fully and wholly - and to hang off her arm, be by her side, share her bed pretty much all day long. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder - not for Boa, though. Constant company, more like. Really, if you’re okay with being glued to her side and treated like someone’s purse dog (including gaudy costumes, mind you!) then Boa is the way to go. There are definitely worse picks out there. 

Now, on to the ones who enjoy being the pet. Sanji and Zoro are up there, both for different reasons. Sanji - well, he’s Sanji. He’ll do anything, try anything, indulge your every whim simply because it makes you happy. And if you want a little puppy by your feet, want to spoil him rotten, want him to watch you with lovestruck eyes with his chin on your knee? Who exactly is he to say no? There are certainly worse ways to love someone, especially if the trade-off for utter devotion and obedience is ownership. He is yours. Belongs to you only. And vice versa. You only have to ask and you’ll have the most obedient little pet at your beck and call. Want to collar him? He’ll wear it with pride. Want him to sleep in a cage? Oh, he’ll cherish the moments he gets to spend in your bed even more. Want him to ask permission for every little thing he does? Why, nothing that would make him happier than that. I think it would be a way to heal for him, as well. A set of rules to go by, someone who manages the ins and outs of his daily life, unconditional, ever-encompassing love from someone who thinks he’s the apple of their eye? Let him get comfortable in this lifestyle and you’ll see him bloom. He craves love and even more so - security. Give him that and he'll be the best puppy you’ve ever had and hopefully will ever have. Just don’t be cruel or erratic, unjust punishments and mood swings taken out on him are not the way to go. Be firm, be strict - but be fair. Zoro, on the other hand, is someone who doesn’t exactly agree to the dynamic - but he’ll very much act like a dog for you. In all but name, he is your guard dog and you are his handler, the one who points their finger and tells him to attack- People will comment on it all the time, will have him red-faced and grumbly behind you. But he won’t even try to be less obvious about his need to protect you, won’t stop being your shadow for just a  moment. It’s just in his nature, he figures. The urge to protect you, to see you well, to know you save and sound - it nags at him, claws at him, doesn’t let him leave until he knows you are where you are supposed to be: by his side. Happy. Warm. And when you praise him? Scratch his ear just so while he’s napping on your lap? That man is in heaven, not a place he’d rather be. You are simply one of the very few things in life he values. (If you’re feeling extra cheeky, call him a good boy and see where it will get you. Certainly on your back and with him balls-deep inside of you, sputtering about how he’ll show animalistic, how you can have a dog if you want one so bad.)

Now, who likes to force pet play on you? Like I said, the uncrowned kings of that are Doflamingo and Arlong, and you’ll find plenty about that in my respective character tags here and here. But you know who’s another one to make you crawl on the floor, to have you eat slop out of a bowl instead of a proper meal on the table? Kid. Kid will. Not because it’s particularly hot to him - but because it just… happens? Sure, he’ll call you all sorts of animal names, all tailored to your appearance and demeanor - be it cow, bitch, pig, fucking mutt - but it’s not like he looks at you and decides that what you need is a collar. With time, you simply turn into his pet (or worse, his crew’s), with every day you lose a little bit of humanity until you might as well be the bed in his quarters, just another piece of inventory. And the more you do, the more he finds himself enjoying it. It’s like he’s playing it out in reverse: first, you only get to be naked and on all fours to make his little quest for free use easier, then he notices how lovely your ass would look with a tail plug dangling from it. There is neither much care nor thought poured into the whole endeavor, either - one day you’ll simply get a massive collar and a new nickname. If you’re lucky, he won’t hook your nose and call you a little sow. But don’t count on that.

[dervampireprince]

ASMR | Castlevania - Alucard x Listener SFW Comforting Alucard After A Nightmare

[M4A] [Set soon after the finale of Castlevania Season 4 (there are no Nocturne spoilers here)] [Established romantic relationship] [Reverse nightmare comfort] [TW mentions of death, murder, very brief mention of Alucard's sexual assault that happens in season 3, death of parents and grieving]

Didn't realise season 2 of Nocturne was releasing so soon and I wasn't sure if I'd get around to watching it, saw one picture of Olrox, and whoops watched the entire season in one evening. This audio was requested before season 2 came out and was scheduled for later but I brought it forwards since hopefully there will be some want for Alucard right now. I got too inot this one and how much I need Vlad and Lisa to have told Adrian that they're still alive that while pretending to cry in this audio I actually started crying oops. It's a shame the Castlevania shows aren't more popular. I always see such a lack of fanworks compared to other shows like Arcane. I know there is more horror and violence in Castlevania than Arcane, but Castlevania and Nocturne are such wonderful shows, well-written, beautifully animated, and nice representation on top of all of that.

A non-spoilery thing that got me with season 2 is how often Mizrak was allowed to cry, not just a little welling of tears in his eyes, this big stereotypically macho masculine man was allowed to just sob over and over, in front of other men, and he was never shamed for it, never embarrassed by doing it. And that shouldn't be so groundbreaking to me in 2024, but sadly I think there still isn't enough of male characters being allowed to show intense emotions that aren't anger. I've also loved in the Castlevania shows how gay/queer relationships are normalised. Striga and Morana, Alucard being bisexual, Olrox and Mizrak... there's never any homophobia thrown at them by other characters. Mizrak might have internalise-homophobia, but his inner conflict seems to more be because Olrox is a vampire not that he's a man. And I don't care whether that's historically accurate, I personally like seeing historical and fantasy settings where they just decide homophobia/transphobia don't exist. I don't think that's erasure, I think it can be an enjoyable fantasy for queer people to enjoy a period drama where queer people can exist in the open with the understanding that this is a fantasy piece and not a historical documentary. I don't know, maybe that's just me who loves historical settings who would love to see and read stories about gay and trans characters being able to be out in the 1800s and what that would look like, what a 1700s binder could have looked like, what 1920s advertisements for shaving razors aimed at trans fems could have looked like, things like that. I don't know, maybe that's just me, I just think it's fun to think about. Sorry that this ramble ended up in an audio description.

Anyway I'm glad I got an Alucard request, I love him very much. And I love his Nocturne design. I've seen some complain about it but they frankly sound like borderline transphobia when they're complaining that he 'looks to feminine'. I think he looks beautiful, and it's definitely giving the same aesthetics as Ayami Kojima's original illustrations and concept for Castlevania where frankly most of the men she draws look more androgynous than typically 'masculine'.

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Old public spicy audios on sound gasm (link in pinned post). 2 Exclusive spicy audios on Patreon every month. I also stream on Twitch every week @ dervampireprince . [minors + ageless blogs dni. this blog is for 18+ only.] [do not repost/reupload/edit any of my content]

[russellsppttemplates]

Papa bear mode (Mick Schumacher)

Mick is in full papa bear mode and his baby girl hasn't arrived yet

Note: english is not my first language. this is another long piece that I hope you enjoy (I love how we all just love dad!Mick and I'm here for it)!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: pregnancy and postpartum

"Can we go tomorrow, then? I already said that I'd be taking the day off", you said to Mick, passing him the last piece of cutlery so he could put it on the drawer after you dried it, "the meeting was the only thing that I had scheduled and since that is cancelled, I have a free day for that, yes", he smiled, settling his hand around your lower back as he guided you to the living room, sitting on the sofa so you could sit next to him, his iPad on his hand so you could both look at it.

"I think I finally found the buggy for us", he announced, tapping the wide screen and opening the shared document you had created so you could have a set list of what you needed for your baby girl's arrival. Mick wanted to be involved in everything as much as he could, and when you suggested that you'd split the list of items so both of you would have less things to look up and search for, it went down as a good idea.

"This one has an adaptable pushing bit, you can regulate according to the height of the person pushing it so it's comfortable, comes with this thing where you put the nappy bag, and I've checked on your list here", he motioned, splitting the screen so both lists would be showing, "and it fits the bag we have already", he smiled, happy with his finding. You tapped the screen to see all the different pictures and features of the equipment, nodding when it seemed good, "yes, I think this is a good choice. It's good that it's adjustable, means you won't hurt your back because it's to small for you or that I will be uncomfortable because it's too tall for me", you smiled, looking up at him and stealing a kiss, "yes, and it looks sturdy enough to venture out for our walks, too", you mentioned, watching a video where the brand tested how the buggy behaved in different types of ground. You were hoping that once things settled down and you felt comfortable enough, you'd join Mick and Angie for walks as a family of four.

"I also found this crib", you mentioned, tapping the link you had pasted on the document earlier on in the day, "it looks pretty and practical, too", you noted, "she won't sleep on it for a while, I guess, because I've heard everyone say how they just sleep in the cot you put next to the bed for first few weeks", you shrugged your arms, "but at least it will be done and out of the way, and the nursery will be ready", you explained your point of you, earning a nod of agreement from your husband, "seems good to me too. We make a fine team, don't we?", he asked, cuddling you into his chest while you looked at the rest of the items you wanted to get.

The next morning, you both woke up and got ready to move your bodies. While you weren't an athete like your husband, you tried your best to engage in some form of exercise to keep active, usually some stretches and lighter movements now that you were pregnant. And because of that, you had built a nice routine to exercise while Mick did his workout in the morning.

You were tidying up, throwing your towell on the basket so you could later take it to the laundry room and then rolling up your yoga matt, walking to the place where you stored it when you nearly tripped in one of weight machines, "Y/N!", Mick said, approaching you to check how you were, "everything good?", he looked you up and down, Angie following suit as she looked up at you, "I'm fine, just didn't see the corner of it", you smiled, craddling his cheek, "no need to go all papa bear mode, at least not now", you reasoned, "yes, you're right. But maybe we should get those lock things, so baby girl doesn't walk in here and hurts herself, there are some heavy things here", he looked around, "and upstairs too, for that matter", he continued his ramble of everything he thought would be heavy and dangerous in the house, "I'll get to it once we get home from the shop", he finished.

Chuckling, you grabbed Mick's hand and laced it in yours, "there's still a lot of time until those are a concern, my love", you tried to pull him back to reality, "I know, but better be safe than sorry. And don't be so certain than I'm thinking she'll be the one to accidentally hit things, by the looks of it, you'll be too", he teased you, kissing your forehead as you made your way upstairs for a shower before leaving for the baby shopping afternoon.

Arriving at the store, you greeted the older sales assistant, showing her your list of items you wanted to get and following her as she also offered her opinions and views, "yes, I always recommend these cots where little one is right next to you in bed, they're like an extension of your own bed and they can be near the parent for feeds and changes during the night, and especially when the mother is the one getting to them in the night and she's still recovering, it's a lot easier to just roll and have the baby right there", she supported your decision, marking down on her notepad the exact model that would fit your bed, "and can we move it around? Say I want it on my side of the bed instead of hers", Mick asked, "yes, it's fairly easy to move around. This model has wheels that lock into place once you're happy with where it is", she showed the detail on the model they had on display.

After discussing all the furniture, you moved into the aisle concerning the mothers rather than the babies' sections, "again, we can never know for sure how the birth is going to go, but from my own experience and from what the clients tell me, it's better to be prepared for everything rather than run around in the newborn stage trying to buy something", she smiled softly, "we have this kit here, and it comes with nipple cream, which I would recommend you start applying a few days before the birth, a lot of new mothers swear by this trick", she winked, making you look at the product while Mick listened intently.

"Also these witch hazel pads also work wonders, if you lay them on your maternity pads or underwear, they really help cool down the area and make things a little bit less uncomfortable", she continued explaining what all the products did and how to use them to get the most benefits.

By the time you were home, sorting everything took even longer since Mick would not let you carry the bigger boxes, only allowing you to carry some baby clothes, hygiene products and a lamp to the nursery and your shared bedroom, and you couldn't help but notice his tense stance. His shoulders were stiff, he only spoke when you talked to him and the crease on his forehead was prominent. "Hey", you nudged him with your foot under the dinner table, "are you okay? Do you need something?", he asked worriedly, earning a no from you, "I should be the one asking you that. You are awfully quiet since we got home from the store. What happened? Was it something I said or did?", you wondered, receiving a chuckle on his end.

Frowning, you waited for his answer, "sorry, liebling, I don't want to offend you. And no, it's not your fault. I mean, it kind of is because yiu are the one carrying our baby, my baby", he brushed, "you and your body are doing this wonderful thing, like, you're growing organs and bones for our baby girl, you are her home", he smiled, tears filling his eyes before be frowned a bit, "but you're also the one enduring the pains, the discomfort that it is sometimes. You'll have to deal with so many things even after our baby girl is out here with us", he stretched his arm so he could hold your hand in his, his thumb rubbing your knuckles, "it's not fair, and I don't know how to make up to you", he explained.

"What made you feel like this? Was it just today?", you questioned, wanting to know where this whole thing came from, "It's just, today, at the store", he gulped, "the lady kept saying that the things we were getting were because things would be bad, like nipple cream because you'd have cracked skin there, or the witchhazel pads because you would be sore, and the band because sometimes everything would feel off on your body", he said, "and I'll be here for you as much as I can, I'll do anything and I'd do anything to take any of that discomfort away from you, but, it's bothering me, I think that's what it is", he confessed, opening up to you.

Smiling at his thoughtfulness, you tutted so he would look at you, "Mick, my love, it's all part of this. And while maybe, yes, if this was some sort of video game where I could transfer the pain of childbirth to you", you giggled, helping him relax a little bit more, "I'm sure I'll be just fine because I have you by my side, through all of it.

"So, please, stop feeling like you're not doing enough because you are. You're taking care of us, making sure I'm doing everything okay. And I have no doubt that the minute this one is her with us", you brought your laced hands to touch your bump, feeling your daughter kick, "you'll be even more wonderful. Parenthood is not measured by who does more of what, but rather how we handle it all together for the best of our family", you smiled, kissing your husband's lips as you finalised your attempt to make him feel better.

.

"Do we have to do this now?", you asked your husband, walking inside the home office to see his opening storage boxes, "you're not doing anything, but I need to get these away from here", he pointed to his trophies. His successful career was the first things that came to mind whenever you saw the wall, and now he wanted to store them away, "one day, Rora might think it is a good idea to touch these and what if they fall on her? They're really heavy and they can hurt her", he reasoned as he saw you sat down on the spinning chair, and if your stomach hadn't fluttered as he mentioned your daughter's nickname, your response would be quicker, "those are really high up, Mick, I don't think I can even reach them, let alone a baby or a toddler that, may I remind you, is still some time away from doing that", you noted, only hearing him mumbling something, "and I plan on dedicating every win to you and our little one, so these will soon be filled with new trophies", he smiled charmingly.

"You, little lady", you talked to your bump, "have a very worried and forward thinking papa, and while he can sometimes be a pain in our behind, he only does it because he loves us so much", you tapped the skin, "but we love him even more, so we are all lucky to have eachother, I guess".

.

"So, I hold her like this?", your husband asked the instructor, earning a pleased nod from her, "very well, Mick, exactly like that!".

You and Mick were at a baby class, and today you were covering the birth and what positions would be helpful whenever the pain of contractions was too great to handle and how you could deal with them, "Am I hurting you, liebling?", he asked, "no, on the contrary. This is actually really nice, I think I should walk around everyday with you like this until she's born", you chuckled, feeling how rhe pressure on your hips subsided, "you know I wouldn't mind being with you all day, you know? It would help me to keep an eye on you at all times an-", you interrupted him, "Papa bear mode is activated", you chuckled, kissing his jaw, "you're lucky I think you're insanely hot when you do that".

[cod-imagines-fanfiction]

Jealous Alejandro kidnaps Valeria's girlfriend to be interrogated by the 141 (2.3k words, part 2)

Summary: Valeria despairs when you don't answer her calls and immediately returns to her residence, only to find you gone. In the meantime, Graves presses you for information, and Alejandro starts to understand why Valeria hides you so well.

TW: mentions of cheating, toxic Valeria and very toxic Alejandro (OOC but I think it adds juicy drama, sorry for ruining him!). Mentions of death and violence. apologies for the imperfect Spanish, I've been using Google Translate! I titled this as 'Valeria's girlfriend' but I ended up writing them as kind of unofficially married. Link to part 1 Link to part 3 Link to A03

Valeria knew something was wrong when you didn't pick up the phone. In all your years together, she never had to call for you more than once, you were always at her beck and call. Her face turned to stone as the call went to voicemail, it felt like her heart stopped and then started again with fire and poison. In hindsight, she should have worried about your safety first, but unfortunately, her insecurities got the best of her. Anger seethed within her as she thought of all the ways you had betrayed her the moment she left you alone. Infidel! Her right-hand man Rafael was looking at you closely when she left, no? How could she be so blind as to trust you? Of course, you were jumping around with her men behind her back - you seemed all innocent and pure, but sure enough the viper within revealed itself and finally slithered out of her tight grasp. Immediately, she called Rafael to check up on the house, and when he also didn't pick up the phone, she cut her trip short and packed her bags. El Sin Nombre doesn't need to explain why she's leaving early! She commanded her business partners to figure it out amongst themselves as she went to her chopper and rushed home. Her hands shook as she navigated the helicopter, her mind unable to stop thinking of all the ways you were intertwined with Rafael on your marriage bed; desecrating your marriage vows. Of course this would happen. Why would fate let Valeria get away with the betrayal she'd inflicted on Alejandro? It was only right that her karmic debt would catch up with her.

It was as she was lowering her helicopter on the freshly cut grass of your home that she began to realise her devastating mistake. Doors were left open with the curtains billowing with the wind, broken glass from shattered windows littered the entryway and, worst of all, dried trails of blood lead a path from the house to the bushes. Her heart caught at her throat as her eyes roamed frantically from one catastrophic sign to the other. Guilt coiled around her stomach and she cursed her darkness for having doubted your loyalty when really, you were fighting for your life. "Mi esposa," Valeria whispered as rushed out of her helicopter, the blades still cutting the air as she ran indoors, not even bothering to be cautious of any enemies that could still be lurking within the shadows. She knew there were bodies dumped behind the green bushes that you so tenderly cared for, but she couldn't make herself check for you there. Part of her hoped you were smart and had the time to hide somewhere good, but she knew you were as helpless as a child when it came to things like this. You, who were so kind and good, left to fend for yourself. How could she possibly think you'd remain unharmed within this field of work? Valeria selfishly forced a divine light like you to live in the shadows with her, of course you'd get snuffed out eventually. If not by Valeria's own hand, her selfishness and greed, her need to possess and own you at all times, then by the selfish and greedy hands of others. All these thoughts rushed through her as she ran from one hallway to another, rushing to your part of the mansion. Memories of violence clung to your home like spiderwebs, she could see the struggle that ensued in the doors left open when you'd normally keep them closed. In the flower vase that you lovingly refilled every week that now lay on the floor shattered, shattered like her heart. The flowers lay on the floor, dying.

"Mi corazon...," she whimpered and came to a stop right before your bedroom door, one hand clutching her chest as she stood there, too afraid to step in and face your fate. She could only hear the wind catching on your curtains and the light humming of your electric blanket. She could already picture the catastrophe. You were in bed, lathering your lotions on, probably adjusting your night light because you were too afraid to sleep in the dark without Valeria next to you. You were all snuggled for bed, probably waiting for her call on the phone, when somebody came for you. "God, give me courage," she said as she stepped inside and lifted her eyes.

It was as if you evaporated into thin air. She saw the marks your body left on the bed where you lay on it and your phone was still there. Valeria's eyes scanned every inch of the space, no blood or other fluids were on any of the surfaces. You were either taken, or whatever happened to you happened elsewhere. All your belongings were still there. She didn't want to have false hope, so she willed herself to look at the bodies left by the bushes. She charged through the rest of the houses, taking note of all the mess. Her chopper was still on as she crossed the garden you tended to, the sweet smell of roses faintly covering the stench of blood lifting from the pile of bodies. Rafael was there, along with the rest of her men who manned the house in her absence. Treacherous relief washed through her because you were not there. This was the most devastating attack that Valeria had ever experienced in all her years and she could not think of anyone that hated her enough to do this. A rival cartel? Unlikely. They were violent criminals, sure, but they still kept a code of conduct amongst themselves. El Sin Nombre was the biggest competitor out there, no one was so stupid as to do this.

Valeria went to the security room and saw the CCTV footage. Her heart stopped when she saw an all-too-familiar figure invading her home. The tall, dark man cut through her men and made his way directly to where her wife lay. It's like he knew exactly where she was. "Alejandro?" Valeria's heart dropped as she watched Alejandro prepare to break the door and attack her wife, who was shrouded in a naive innocence where she could never comprehend the attack she was about to experience.

Angry tears threatened to spill from her glassy eyes as she saw Alejandro's hand grab you by the throat and drag you out of your marital bed. The same bed that you made love in every night, now permanently defiled with the way he violently dragged you out of it. Bruises from his fingers would have definitely formed on your soft skin by now, if you were still alive. Valeria watched on as Alejandro handcuffed her wife and pushed her through the hallways, saying something to her ear whilst parading her through the home she was supposed to be safe in. It was no coincidence that Alejandro stared directly at one of the cameras as he pushed her wife forward, looking directly at Valeria's eyes. This was no incidental operation; this was deliberate and malicious. More so, it was fucking personal. Yes, this was where Valeria ran her operation, but it was also the home you and her nested in so lovingly. And now it was trampled all over by men in uniforms, just like those fallen flowers. She forced herself to watch on as you were put in a helicopter and disappeared in the night sky.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "I hope you're ready to talk now, sweetheart." After a few hours of silence, the door to the container you were kept in opened, bringing in some rays of sunlight before shutting again. The American, whom you now knew was called Commander Graves, entered along with Alejandro. It had been many hours since your abduction, you had no way of telling how long exactly. But you were tired and restless, and cold. You thought they might move you to a cell at least, but they made no effort to transfer you out of the metal container. Too afraid to say anything when not spoken to, you sat still and waited. You wondered if Valeria had noticed your absence yet but even if she did, how could she find you? "I'm not sure what to tell you, sir." You remained polite hoping that courtesy would make up for your lack of talking. "Don't be like that, there's plenty to tell. How about we start with this little business trip of hers?" Graves circled around you, placing his hand on your shoulder before finally coming to a stop. " What'du hear about it?" Graves had many years of experience underneath his belt when it came to interrogation, especially the violent ones. And so did the 141. That was made very clear from the beginning. If this was any ordinary member of the cartel, they'd have buried them by now. But spouses were different; you hurt them and there'll be hell to pay. Even worse, there'll be no chance of making a deal with Valeria. "Like I said, I just know she went away for it, sir, that's all."

"Hm," he said and dropped his hand. He moved to stand right in front of you. "Well, you must know something. You know she's El Sin Nombre. You know she runs the biggest drug cartel in Latin America. You know she runs an international operation, you know she has friends in many places. What am I missing here?"

You looked up at him. "That's basically it, sir. It's a drug operation. But I don't know where it comes from, who her manufacturers are, or how she sells it. She doesn't deal with small details." Graves was starting to lose his patience, and not with her but with Alejandro. He couldn't understand why he insisted on extracting a housewife instead of the real deal. Here he was trying to gather intel on those Russian missiles with a trophy wife who hasn't had a day out of the kitchen, let alone discussions with the biggest terrorist organisation in the world. It was time to cut loose and make the call. "Hermano, take over for me will ya? I'll be right back." Graves walked away, wondering what General Sherperd will think of this whole situation.

You were alone with Alejandro now, who paced up and down the compound like a restless animal. You wondered to yourself how similar he was to Valeria, she had the exact same habit when she was stressed. They were very similar in temperament; too similar. Aggressive, hard-headed and dominant. Part of you gloated at the whole situation. Here was a Colonel of the Mexican Army, a well-decorated military man, wasting his time with you, someone quite irrelevant in the grand scheme of things, all because of- "Your wife," he said, disrupting your thoughts and you suddenly realised you were staring at him. "Is that correct?" He nodded at your ring finger. "Yes, sir," you replied timidly. He was exactly like Valeria, and it worked in your favour. You've spent so many years living with your partner that it was almost too easy to deal with people like her. People who could fill up a room with their presence; intimidating, powerful people who could hurt you badly. The sort of people who made the world go round. People, in other words, who could be domesticated.

Because violence and intimidation aren't the only ways to get what you want. Alejandro scoffed, "you've come a long way from that food stand, huh?" He looked at you with a faraway look in his eye, his mind having entered that shrouded area of the psyche where apparitions of the past hover, always eager to glide into the present in the form of memories. Your heart softened both at the memory he was referencing and because, at that moment, he seemed so pitifully sad, having lost himself in reminiscence.

Many years ago, you helped your Abuela run her restaurant in Las Almas, which stood very close to where the Mexican Army had its headquarters. Your Abuela was a genius in strategy and profited a lot from the laziness of soldiers who couldn't be bothered to cook for themselves but who also didn't want to eat whatever the Army served. And that's how you met Valeria, who was regularly sent by her teammates to fetch a group order. Valeria picked up the food because it was expected of her, an unfortunate burden of being one of the youngest women in her squad. But over time, she did it because it meant she got to see you. To everyone's surprise, when Valeria ran away to work for the cartel, that quiet girl in the small restaurant vanished too. "Alejandro." His eyes snapped back into yours. "Lo siento mucho. I really didn't know about you and Valeria. I am not that kind of person." You knew exactly what this was all about. Sure, they wanted to get El Sin Nombre and Valeria *was* the head of the biggest drug operation in the world. And she *has* made Las Almas dance to the rhythm of her tune for the past decade. But this was all just a big temper tantrum. And if you played your cards right, you could leave unscathed. You continued, "Whatever happens, I just wanted you to know that. I am truly sorry. I never meant to hurt anyone."

Something changed in his eyes. You could already picture what was about to happen. After your sincere self-flogging will come his pity, then the remorse. He might chuck you in a cell to show that he's treating you like the criminal collaborator that they all think you are, but soon enough he'll arrive bearing the fruits of forgiveness. Just like Valeria, you told yourself. Like moths to a flame. "Hm," he mumbled to himself, his eyes roaming all over you. "I get it now." He cocked his head to the side, "eres una cosa encantadora." At that moment, you felt a change in the air, something dark hovered between you two. It made you shiver.

"Tell me, Y/N. Have you ever been with a man?"

Hope you enjoy this part! Promised tags: @justmare @sleepiemain @caffeineliker @lesvii @silas-222 I'll bring Valeria and her partner together in part 3! I've also thought of a cute backstory for them that I want to get into :) also sorry for ruining Alejandro, i made him so toxic in this fic 😭

[pseudoartistpostsstuff]

Heyo! May I request platonic yandere chain with reader? But instead of isekai like normal the reader is actually a destructive spirit or deity that was reawakened by either Dark Link or Ganon? Anywhoooo I hope you’re having a great week- mine was filled with exams lmfaooooo

Thanks for requesting anon! I really hope you had good results from those exams!

Notes: My week was okay, thank you for asking!!

I really let out my imagination out on this one, hope you'll like it.

BTW, take this as a part on the back for getting through your week.

I feel like I made the yandereness on this one so light, I'm sorry

-> Reader can't bring themselves to remember anyone's names so just remembers their most striking characteristics in their opinion.

-> It's been a while since I've read the comic, so Time keeping FD's mask on his belt for safety measures (since it's the most dangerous one and he can't lose it) is merely a headcanon of mine.

-> Reader is a menace who has questionable intellect (AKA a chaotic, pyromaniac, destructive entity being forced to be nice to others by the good guys™).

-> I left the end ambiguous, so you guys can decide if reader was either truly tamed or is still a menace who Time has to keep on check so they won't be too cruel on their "pranks".

-> Reader also magically rearranged Time's ocarina so each hole would play different a different sound at some point, so he literally had to re-learn where each note was so that he could go back to playing his songs again.

-> Reader slept for more than Time and Wild both and doesn't know a thing about the Zelda lore other than the Golden goddesses.

TWs: Light platonic yanderism, mention of burns, mentions of fire and arson, mentions of loud noises, basically just reader being an absolute hazard to anyone and everyone.

Platonic yandere! Chain x Reader

Debt to pay.

People from your time used to say that one could sooner move a mountain from it's resting place rather than tame your natural ways.

You wouldn't say you were a deity, per say, you thrived on chaos and setbacks, a living annoyance to the poor living things that breathed the same air as you, and roamed the earth by the same time you did.

It was in your nature to be destructive, yes, but you never wanted destruction, at least not full extinction. The darkness and the light were both two sides of the same rupee, they were one just like the other, beings of both sides would react the exact identical way to having their butts lit on fire. So, of course, you weren't one to pick and choose who you'd go after each day.

Thing is, most people didn't understand that —if anyone at all— so everyone just assumed you were a being of pure darkness, even if you actually saw yourself as more of a dark gray entity from a moral chart perspective.

And that was how you got yourself “killed”, if that's even the right thing to call it.

Somehow, no one seemed to care much when you lit whole villages on fire and made all of the walls of full-on castles start dissing out pure electricity, but they almost dislocated their jaws the moment you decided to do a silly trick and turn all of their lovely goddesses statues upside down for a day.

As if those same goddesses hadn't just ignored all of their prayers in the last hundreds of years you spent freely making their lives miserable.

You were stored in a vase. Not even a cool cool one. A plain clay vase deep within a temple under the ground. If you could choose, you'd have preferred something more majestic and up to the level of your power, but then again, it wasn't like you were in place to say anything in your defense.

Sometimes you just wondered how your small group of worshipers were. They probably weren't the best people out there, if you could say so yourself, but you were still curious if they ended up having similar fates to yours.

A long, long time later, you were "revived", for the same reason you were "killed".

Not the best choice on the part of whoever went through the trouble of doing all that, but who were you to judge? Or even to complain?

From what you could get from the boring evil monologue the guy in front of you was giving after having just woken you up from the longest nap you've ever had —since you couldn't really die— the guy wanted you to aid him in his quest to kill some other guys and take over the world or some boring nefarious plan like that.

You couldn't recall any of the names he just said, though, so you could only guess that you had either slept for a pretty damn long time, or you were in an entirely different world on itself.

Before you could fully decide on one of the two possibilities, the red guy sent you to fight against that group of guys he was talking about, seven men with varying shades of blonde hair along with two guys who weren't blond at all.

Perhaps you could have admired the strength of the red guy's magic, to just bring you out of your sleep like that and already straight up teleport you.

Thing is, you didn't really care enough to do that, you just did whatever you wanted the moment you realized you were fully conscious and in a physical body once again.

Were you chaotic and very much possibly evil? Yes. Were you stupid, however? Kinda No.

So the moment the opportunity presented itself, you followed those guys around, gathering information. Taking notice also of that one shadow looking dude, who was following them around just like you, seemingly with the intention of making their lives hell.

Maybe he'd be an interesting being to interact with, if he wasn't as prickly as a damn cactus. You swore you couldn't even approach the guy without him reacting like a startled cat, pointing his flimsy sword straight to your face. You swore to yourself you'd break that thing in half one of these days.

And so you set your sights fully on the blond —and the not so blond— guys, taking your time to also play around with the villages they went to and toy with the monster camps they passed by.

Of course, you couldn't just ignore the massively ominous aura drifting from the masks that one of the taller blondies carried around. Your hands itched to get a grasp on those things, whatever was sealed inside it was magical and possibly powerful, and the possibilities sent your mind on quite a dangerous frenzy.

The thing that made you a bit disappointed, however, was how long it took for them to notice your presence.

At some point you decided to start giving them some more obvious hints that what was following them wasn't friendly.

They seemed to really like bomb bags, which wasn't exactly safe for them when you could randomly activate those at will.

Also, you couldn't control the rain or storms, of course, but you definitely could attract lightning, especially since they all seemed to enjoy carrying around those identical metal swords.

Sometimes you just liked to pull on their hair and make knots on them, given that some had really long hair.

The wolf guy had a horse, one you could just startle really easily. Although you didn't have the result you wanted, since the wolf guy wasn't sent flying the moment his horse went crazy.

You caught him later, though. Making loud, high pitched noises to absolutely blow away his senses the moment he turned into a wolf to try and chase you down.

The fire that the short guy was using to mend a weapon randomly became overly strong, enough to have burned his whole arm, if he hadn't pulled away quick enough.

The scarf of the other one just one day became a bit too hard around his neck. It's a good thing for him that he was quick enough to pull it off his neck before he suffocated.

You watched as the one with pink hair almost had a breakdown, as all his colorful, shiny little trinkets and accessories having become dulled, turning completely pitch black, no traces of their original colors or magic left.

The kid tried to control the wind, only to have it blown straight back to his face, bringing leaves and sand with it.

You made sure their cook accidentally poured a bit too much pepper in their food, or salt, even sugar, if you felt like it.

The brown haired one suddenly lost control of his magic, what was supposed to heal their wounds ended up dyeing their hair blue for days on end.

That other guy who always overslept felt his pillow being pulled from under his head at random times through his nights.

And the tall guy's masks have all suddenly decided to disappear.

“Okay. Something is going on here. And it's not something natural.” Time sighed, looking around the camp, tired and worried, concerned.

Wild’s hair was an absolute mess and seemed to have caught on fire at some point, Warriors was glaring at his scarf, keeping it as far from his —almost purple— neck as possible. Wind had his hair almost as messy as Wild's, full of leaves and dirt, he was pretty sure there were also some bugs around it, his cheek had a thin cut from a sharp little rock.

Twilight was occupied comforting Epona, although the both of them seemed quite shaken up by something.

Four had some burns around the tips of his fingers, his hair usual blond hair now stained with blue, Hyrule sitting beside him with a frown, bandaging his hands rather than using his healing magic like he normally would.

Sky wasn't far from the two, almost dozing off despite the migraine that had settled behinds his eyes, which were now dotted with heavy bags from sleepless nights. Legend's terrible mood did not seem to disturb his need for a nap.

“Oh, really?” Legend almost growled back, positively fuming with barely contained rage gleaming in his eyes.

“Vet, I am not your enemy here, but once we find out who is doing this, you can direct your anger towards whoever they are.” Time shot a look to the other.

“That is, if it's even a person doing this. It might be some kind of monster.” Warriors commented.

“One thing we're sure of is that there's magic involved in this.” Hyrule spoke up, finished with the bandaging.

“I don't even know why you're so mad, Leg, you were possibly the least affected by this.” Four complained, eyebrows furrowed with stress. Even as a blacksmith, he was never a fan of getting burned, especially not being caught off guard like that!

“Agreed.” Wild was the next to speak, not bothering to brush the soot out of his hair. It wasn't quite the first time he almost been exploded, after all, even though the experience didn't get any better no matter how many times he went through it.

“You're really saying that, even though the kid only got a burst of wind to the face.”

“Ay! Mind your own business, Legend!” Wind sprung up in defense of himself, already looking to be tense prior to the attack, as the two began arguing.

While the group was in quite the mess, you took your chances to go ahead and approach stealthily to attempt to take the mask you were so curious about. Said mask being the last one you hadn't stolen borrowed yet, since the tall guy seemed to have noticed his other masks disappearances and decided to take extra means of protection towards that one.

In your opinion, your risks were all carefully thought out and calculated, however, you seemed to have completely forgotten about a certain wolf guy at the edge of the camp, standing beside his horse and looking straight at you.

You managed to grab the mask from the taller guy's belt! But at what price..?

Before you could even manage to turn around and run away with it, a hand shot out, hooking on the back of the collar of your shirt, pushing you to the ground in a second. And in another second, there was a blade shoved right in front of your face.

Goddammit.

You barely paid any attention to all the yelling, too occupied hugging your newly acquired possession tightly to your chest.

“Hand me that mask. Now.” A voice right behind you demanded, yet you still didn't move.

“No.”

The sword in front of you seemed to inch just slightly closer to your neck.

“At least tell me what it is, first!” You asked, a bit more squirmy, not at all comfortable with the vulnerability you had right now, since it seemed like that long sleep left you with a bit less power than you used to have, clearly a precaution, should you ever gain you body back. It was smart from your captors, but very much annoying for you.

“None of your business, now give me back my mask!” The tall guy —now in front of you— stressed. You could tell that his restlessness was hinting towards just how near he was to the end of his wits.

“If this piece of porcelain is as powerful as it seems, then yes, yes it is my business!”

It wasn't, not really, but you were too curious to just give up on information just like that.

The tall guy went quiet for a second before he finally replied, going with a question instead of actually giving you an answer like you were expecting from him.

“How do you know how powerful it is?”

“None of your business.” You threw his own words back at him and now the dull side of the sword was suddenly pressing up pretty uncomfortably against your skin, burning you. “Okay, fine, I'll tell you.”

And that was how you met the Links, and also how you became chained to them, unable to leave. After all, you did have to pay them back for all that you did to every single one of them.

But, for some reason, that simple dept seemed to only to get bigger the longer you spent time with them, despite the fact you weren't doing anything entirely wrong…

At least, that was the excuse they gave to you, yet something in you made you feel like that wasn't the full truth.

Extra (This happened)

Time: give me back my shit

Reader: nuh-uh

Time: fym nuh-uh

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA For getting someone banned for writing fanfic?

Rape and pedophilia TW

This was a handful of years ago but. I had made a post talking about why I'm pro-choice. I had links to articles and my own personal opinions and it had taken me hours to go through and write. A lot of people resonated with it and that meant a lot to me. I knew I'd get some awful people in the notes, and I'd just block them and move on. But this one woman was so mad at me? For being pro-choice, that she made a side blog dedicated to writing fanfic about ME being raped by an adult character from some Fandom. I was a minor at the time (16) and her main blog said she was 26. It was graphic sexually but also it went into graphic detail about this woman's self insert mutilating and killing me "just like how abortion kills babies". I took affirmative action and went through so many hoops to finally get the fanfic blog AND her side blog nuked. She made more blogs after that, and I kept reporting them one after another to get rid of her until I'm pretty sure she gave up. I guess some people found out recently about that, and they told me I was an asshole for repeatedly nuking her blogs over fanfic. I told them it was fanfic about harming me, and they said I could've just blocked her and moved on, but instead I probably drove her off the platform just because I was uncomfortable. And because it was so many people that told me this, I've been spending some time lately worried that I might have overreacted and went overboard. I feel like I completely fucked up in doing that but at the same time I feel justified because I felt like that was a really messed up thing she did? But I'm confused. I don't want to hurt anyone. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[coffee-flavored-mochi]

best voltron fics i've found on ao3:

(in no particular order, just ones i like)

(also most of these are klance btw)

-"Fighting the Surface" by tommino

-(klance)hurt!lance and a little hurt!keith. tw near character death and also tw drowning. super good fic, pretty emotional, not too long of a read, less than 20k words.

-"nothing's quite as sweet" by dimple for your thoughts

-(klance) literally the cutest slow burn klance fic. it's only 50k words, but its literally just a cute barista!keith and cat shelter worker!lance fic and i love it. a little bit of hurt/comfort, but nothing too bad.

-"you never stood a chance" by kagshina

-(klance) cute little college fic where lance falls for keith. only 12k words, warning for a bit of second hand embarrassment lol.

-"The Marks We Make" by wittyy_name

-(klance) another college fic, also a soulmate au! kind of a long one (over 250k words) but such a cute slowburn. also has super cute artwork by sora linked into the fic. one of my absolute faves <3<3

-"Shut Up and Dance With Me" by wittyy_name

-(klance) another amazing fic by wittyy_name (an amazing author, pls check out all their fics) a cute little enemies-to-lovers dance!au, also around 250k words. need to give this one a re-read since it's been a while, but overall an amazing fic and i love it so much!

-"Nightmares" by Trashness

-(klance) amazing little one-chapter fic abt keith and lance sharing the same bed due to nightmares (as the title suggests). only around 15k words, so a short little read, but it's a very good read!

-"call me, beep me" by orphan_account

-(klance) cute little wrong number!au where lance accidentally texts a wrong number (keith) and then they fall in love 😈 its 85k words and a bit of a slow burn, and i'm pretty sure it's the voltron fic with the most kudos on ao3!

-"O Come Let Us Adore Him" by Bandity

-(no ships) this one isn't a klance fic, but is def a heavy hurt!lance fic. tw for manipulation, hallucinations, non-con, eating issues, and some other things. i like this one a bunch because it not only shows the bad shit lance goes through, but the aftermath as well. less than 35k words but a really great story overall.

-"Looking Death in the Eye" by IcyPanther

-(no ships) okay so this one isn't a klance fic either but it is honestly an amazing one and doesn't get the recognition it deserves. it doesn't have any ships or anything, but is about lance having to save the entire team during a sick game a random villain lures them into. i love fics about torturing my favorite characters (like lance) and this one does that so so so well. pls give it a read 🙏🙏 also its only 16k words so you can read it super fast!!