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churipu · 11 months ago

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YOU SLEEPING ON A COUCH AFTER AN ARGUMENT 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

featuring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, toji fushiguro x reader

note. i hv so many ideas right now apart from what i'm actually supposed to be focusing on, so...pls excuse me.

GOJO SATORU. arguments with gojo are a pain in the ass, he's petty and everything will be a mess. he's so stubborn that it actually baffles you sometimes — and he calls you rock head?

being a sorcerer is never an easy job. gojo wakes up every day, not knowing whether he'd die in a mission or get to live another day. so when you brought up your concerns about it to him, the male didn't take it lightly. things have been tight for him, and you're walking on eggshells for the past few days.

the slightest thing angered him, like how his sleeve got stuck on the door handle, or the way he curses out loudly when he stubs his toe on the coffee table. it puts him in a shitty mood, so when that happens, and you try to talk to him about his job.

gojo gets very pissy about it.

frankly, you understood where his anger comes from. and it was part of your fault to bother him the moment he came back from work exhausted, it was bound to happen so you weren't really blaming him at all from the projecting of his anger to you the night before — he didn't say hurtful things, gojo knew better than that. all he did was tell you to leave him alone and get out of his sight for the night.

and you did. sleeping alone on the couch, all sprawled out, an arm dangling on the edge; while a string of drool dribbled down the corner of your lips.

you seemed to not mind having to sleep on the couch (under your own want). but your boyfriend did, the moment he knew your bed time strikes — he came out of the room and eyed your sleeping form. guilt washing over him when all you did was care about his being and how dangerous the jujutsu world is.

gojo approaches you and gently carried you in his arms, an arm right under your bottom and his other arm around your waist. hoisting you up like a baby as your cheek leaned onto his shoulder, letting the drool blotch his shirt. he doesn't care at all.

the male tucks you in the bed, pulling the covers over you before slipping next to you, chest pressed to your back and an arm resting on your hip. gojo will never let you sleep a whole night on the couch, he will bring you to sleep with him and apologize the very next day for being such an ass.

he also, tried to make it up to you by cooking a classic english breakfast. which ended up in chaos — and you both decided to order take out instead.

GETO SUGURU. geto is usually calm and collected; he doesn't really get angry at anything. even if he does, he mostly keeps it to himself unless it really bothers him. but since humans have certain capacities to their own emotion — geto is not spared from being angry, no matter how calm he is.

after the death of amanai, you could feel him change. your geto. it was traumatizing for him, and you understood. always being there for him, never leaving him alone. the dark circles under his eyes were apparent, and it looked like he hasn't had a good night sleep for what seemed like . . . weeks, or months, if that's even possible.

geto appreciated your company, really. but sometimes, he also wanted to be left alone to dwell on his feelings. he didn't want to end up saying hurtful things to you because he was so angry at himself. but he did, and god was it horrible.

he was already feeling like shit before the argument— which if you see, wasn't really an argument at all. it was one-sided, geto was telling you off and you didn't say anything back. because you knew he didn't mean it. he almost desperately begged for you to leave him alone because your presence was "annoying" him and he couldn't stand it.

although geto said it in a heap of moment. he didn't mean it, and before he could say anything else, you tell him that you were going to be sleeping on the couch, so if he needed anything he was free to come to you.

geto didn't stop you. he was busy hating on himself for telling you that — and believe me when i say that he, right there, almost cried out of frustration.

he tossed and turned on his bed. where you were usually on too, beside him, holding his hand whilst he sleep. your hushed voice lulling him into a peaceful slumber; but you weren't there today, all because he told you to leave him alone. geto sat up, his eyelids heavy, but no matter how long he shut is, they always open back up.

with slow and heavy steps, he approaches you on the couch. and geto had always knew that you were a light sleeper, so his footsteps awoken you. seeing your eyes flutter open, geto slid on the couch, laying himself on top of you — head on your chest, arms clutching onto your shirt like he's desperate for your presence, and his legs intertwining with yours.

getos' hushed apologies were heard as he leaned into your warmth, and you told him that you were never angry. brushing his hair, massaging his scalp using your fingertips before lulling him to sleep, and geto did. almost immediately. and so did you.

he could never sleep without you. whether it being on the bed, the couch, or anywhere else — as long has you were with him, he will find the ability to drift off.

TOJI FUSHIGURO. is an ass. let's face it — he wouldn't give a fuck if you decided to sleep on the couch after an argument, at least for the first couple of hours. toji is a blunt man, and he's a sole believer that nobody could bear sleeping on the couch when there's a bed in the house.

but you were there to prove him wrong.

after an argument going south, he finds you grabbing your pillow and then seeking shelter on the couch. and he clicked his tongue in annoyance, knowing you'd come crawling back on the mattress after a few hours — because who'd choose the couch over the bed?

you. apparently.

he slept without a single care, thinking of words to say when you finally decided to come back on the bed. but when he woke up at three am, his arm searching to find your body, but realizing all he was catching was air — he finally realized that you weren't coming back onto the bed.

and it annoyed him. he was angry that you weren't there. and at three am? he was already wide awake, walking out of the room angrily. but his gaze softened when he saw you asleep, the constant flashing light from the television panning on your body; toji walks over, snatches the remote and turns the device off.

letting out a soft sigh, toji squats down, flicking your forehead. and the action was enough to make you grimace lightly in your sleep — although not enough to wake you up completely. the male chuckled and prepped an arm under the hollow under your knees, and an arm across your shoulder.

with ease he brought you into your shared room and he laid you down on the bed, covering your body with the blanket before he slips into his own portion of the bed. scooting closer to you as you instinctively nuzzled into his chest, seeking for comfort.

toji wouldn't admit that he was the one who brought you into the bed and would end up saying how you came crawling back at three am. you always find out the truth though, and toji tells you to forget about whatever he did because he won't be doing it again (he will).

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thewisecheerio · 6 months ago

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Messmer's actually terrible at his job. (affectionate)

Messmer is a fascinating villain, because he is strangely compassionate. I would go so far as to argue that this same compassion that is so at odds with his villainy is the very thing that drove him to become that villain in the first place. Hang with me; this is a long post.

Spoilers for Elden Ring DLC. Obviously.

Messmer tells us himself that his purpose is to purge all those stripped of the grace of gold. "Yet...my purpose standeth unchanged. Those stripped of grace of gold shall all meet death...in the embrace of Messmer's flame." We can piece together who gave him this genocidal purpose from his armor set's description, which tells us directly that he's working on his mother's behalf *and also* taking all the blame for it.

So he's playing war criminal on Marika's behalf. And I do mean playing. I'm not downplaying the fact that he is a war criminal; he has murdered on entire people. But here's the thing: he's *terrible* at playing the sole part of the spiteful, hateful overlord. He's *awful* at reveling in war and its victories.

Why? Empathy.

Messmer is strangely empathic for what could have otherwise been a cut-and-dry villain:

1. His relationship with Gaius, an Albinauric: We learn from Gaius's Remembrance that he was Messmer's bestie. We also know that Gaius was an Albinauric both from his armor as well as the location "Albinauric's Hut" in the direction he comes from at the beginning of his fight. Albinaurics are despised by the Golden Order, but Messmer didn't seem to care. In fact, he cared so little that he gave Gaius command of either a huge chunk or perhaps his entire army, second only to him. And what is given as the basis of this friendship? The fact that they were "both cursed from birth", i.e. a mutual understanding of what it is to be despised. They're trauma bonded because they have empathy for each other's predicament.

2. His relationship with the Jar people: Even though the Jar people were used as weapons of war against his own people, he doesn't seem to resent them. How do we know? There is a hospital where the Jars and their innards are being cared for in the Storehouse, a stone's throw away from where Messmer spends all his time. There are even a few baby Jars running around in it. Strange thing to do to what is essentially an enemy of your people, unless you consider them to also be victims of the same conflict.

3. His relationship with his soldiers: Messmer shares his own flame with his army. Yeah, that absolutely could be interpreted as a utilitarian move for the sake of war. Power up the troops, boost your chance at victory. But it's a strange choice when he could have just armed them in the traditional way of handing them sharp, pointy objects and pointing in the desired direction of stabbing. Instead, arming your soldiers with your own power could also be interpreted as something you do when you care about their survival and are potentially working directly with them to ensure it.

4. The mourning of people who betray him: Speaking of his soldiers, Messmer gets betrayed by at least a few of them. We learn this from the ashes of Andreas and Huw. Huw's ashes further tell us that Messmer *mourned their loss* as brothers-in-arms. Weird thing to do to someone who has betrayed you, unless you care very deeply about them to begin with.

5. The implications of the Storehouse: Even though he is actively genociding Hornsent on Marika's orders, he somehow has preserved an entire library of their history. At first, I thought this was maybe just British Museum vibes: steal all the artifacts and refuse to give them back. (And that could still be a correct interpretation.) But in context of the rest of these points, if you're truly hellbent on erasing a culture, why would you bother to preserve any of it? Would you not burn the libraries along with the people? It's a fairly common thing to do in our world's wars--destroy the art and history to ensure full erasure. And yet, it seems he can't even bring himself to avoid some small amount of sympathy for the people he was explicitly tasked with killing. If you really *think* about the basis for his sympathy for Marika, this does make a lot of sense. Messmer is following Marika's orders because he knows about what the Hornsent did to the Shaman. Wouldn't it then also be the case that once Marika's reign became nothing but genocide, i.e. an exact reversal of what was done to her people, he would have the same kind of sympathy for them? Perhaps this is a form of harm reduction in the only way he could square with what he thinks is his purpose.

6. His own self-hatred: Messmer despises his own flames, which we learn from the Messmer's Orb description. If you were happy to be Doing a Genocide, would you not celebrate your weapons of war? Wouldn't you take pride in them as tools of power? Unless, of course, you're not actually as happy as we think and maybe having regrets and come to be filled with severe self-hatred. Woops.

So then, if Messmer is this guy running around with a lot of Big Feelings (and probably a deep need for a Prozac prescription), why does he even agree to this genocide in the first place? Isn't that an *odd* choice for someone who seems to care pretty deeply about people, even people despised by his family's governing order? Why does he carry out these orders even to the point of developing a deep self-hatred?

This is where Messmer's sympathy, one of his best aspects, also becomes his fatal flaw.

I mentioned above in 5 that Messmer has access to information about both sides of this conflict. As much as he might have sympathy for everyone around him--including weapons used against the Shaman like the Jars--that means he *also* has sympathy for the Shaman. So if you have sympathy for the other side and sympathy for your side, and you are raised by your own side, then what is the natural outcome? Your side wins. If you must choose a side, then you fight on behalf of Child Soldier Fostering Mother Marika. She raised you, after all. It's inevitable.

In the end, that same sympathy he seems to extend to others also is what causes him to do war crimes. Out of an abundance of sympathy for what happened to the Shamans, he agrees to take up arms.

At the end of the day, he's still a villain that needs to be stopped so that he'll stop oppressing an entire people on behalf of his mother's misguided attempts at revenge. But making his reasoning to agree to become that villain in the first place *empathy* of all things? Fascinating.

#elden ring #elden ring dlc #elden ring sote #elden ring spoilers #elden ring sote spoilers #elden ring dlc spoilers #shadow of the erdtree #shadow of the erdtree spoilers #messmer #messmer the impaler

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mmaybanks · 4 days ago

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❝ a pogue christmas ❞ — jj maybank

𓇼 pairing: bsf!jj x reader

𓇼 summary: the pogues are celebrating christmas and jj decides to risk ruining it all for a simple mistletoe kiss

𓇼 warning(s): fluff, kissing, suggestive/sexual comments and jokes, mentions of abuse/bad family, soft jj, suggestive (?) ending

𓇼 a/n: i blurred the girl’s face in the photo because idk who it is and i don’t want anyone getting confused😭 also its almost christmas and this story is kinda based on a joke i have with a friend!! ALSO this is my first post and im nervous so be nice pls😞

𓇼 wc: ≈ 2.5k

masterlist

it was the week before christmas, and now that the pogues offically had a house of their own, you were the most excited to decorate. sadly, it would have to be done after some begging.

"please, jay. i know you wanna." you sing out, disrupting the previously peaceful silence. the groans of all the pogues were heard. "y/n, why do you wan'to decorate so bad? it's not your first christmas." john b asked. he wasn't opposed to it, but neither was sarah, or pope, or kiara, or cleo. it really was just jj, and for the others, the fact that it took effort contributed.

"can i not enjoy something?" you sighed feigning disappointment, "fine, i'll just decorate all alone, risk my falling to my death, or breaking my back from the heav–"

"god damn, woman. c'mon, let's go get you a tree and some lights." jj abruptly cut you off. you turned back to him with wide eyes, from surprise, but also guilt. he didn't look happy to do it. sarah stifled a laugh from the interaction, watching as two of her best friends stared. "it's fine jj–we don't have to. no one else wants to."

he rolled his eyes, but stood from the couch. when you just stared at him, he sighed loudly. "let's go." he ordered. you let out a quiet squeal, hopping off the couch and to your room, where you grabbed a pair of sneakers to wear out.

the night was spent decorating a newly bought christmas tree, hanging lights throughout the house, and drinking hot cocoa.

after a long few hours, it was nearing midnight. the rest of the pogues were off to 'sleep', while jj stayed up with you. you were still trying to decorate, still having ideas–just no longer the energy to keep doing them.

"c'mere." jj mumbled from his spot on the couch. you look back at him over your shoulder, seeing his eyes closed. you took the opportunity to let your vision linger on his arm and shoulder muscles, sure he wouldn't notice. "y'know if you came over you could get a better look, maybe cop a feel." he smirked, tease evident in his tone.

"maybe i was just worried about your temperature, think of that?" you weakly defended against the accurate allegations. "mhm." his voice so weak and rough, but maintaining the playfulness. god, can you blame a girl?

you took a few small strides to the edge of the couch, lowering yourself into his warm embrace. the moment you were in his arms he held on tight. you tried not to focus on how close your bodies were, so close you could feel his breath against your shoulder. goosebumps spread across your bare legs, clad only in small shorts with a christmas pattern.

"i think if anyone's wearin' a concerning amount of clothes, it's you." he whispered, tapping his icy cold fingers against your legs. "i'm fine like this." you lied impulsively. there was no reason, no need, but you hated him to be right about every part of you.

"right, no yeah, of course baby." he played along, the nickname sliding off his tongue too easy. you could feel your heart beat a bit faster, but your breathing slowed against his. "yeah well, these are also the only christmas pajamas i have, so." he hummed in agreement. maybe just to assure you he heard, maybe just to assure himself he was awake.

"can i ask you something?" you paused, once again getting a hum in place for a response. "and you answer honestly." at the suddenly serious tone, he opened his eyes.

he gently pushed up onto his elbows, looking down at you. he stared, trying to memorize every feature he could while he could. he loved being this close to you, being able to see every detail possible. every pore, every color in your eyes–if they were open. all of you. it wasn't until you opened your eyes a few seconds later he realized he hadn't responded.

"yeah. 'course. complete and total honesty." he assured, strong eye contact held since your eyes opened. "yeah." you echoed in a mindless mutter.

you snapped back into your mind after a split moment, your eyes finding the ceiling suddenly very interesting. "um, so why–why didn't you want to decorate? for christmas."

you noticed his jaw clench and unclench before he opened his mouth to speak. it was shut just as quickly, and you could see him searching for the right words to say. "i jus' uh, didn't ever have any good memories with it, y'know? growin' up poor, with a shitty father, not really fun."

oh. "mh, yeah, 'm sorry. i guess i never thought of it like that." he sighed, looking down to his fingers tapping against your side. "no biggie." he forced a laugh, almost sounding genuine, but the sad undertones shown through.

"well, y'know what that means?" you couldn't hide the smile that threatened to show on your face, but part of you didn't want to. it kept the atmosphere not too heavy. "what's that?"

"y'gotta make good new memories." he smiled at your optimism. "thanks for today. it means a lot."

instead of a verbal response, he just settled down comfortably, wrapping his arms around you closer.

the following week was spent with a lot of talk of christmas. you were determined to make good memories of christmas for jj–making gingerbread houses, binging christmas movies, baking regular cookies, everything you could think of. so focused on that, you had yet to notice the simple decoration above the doorframe of the kitchen and living room that you didn't add.

it was christmas eve, another night where the pogues had all already went to bed. to your knowledge, all of them had.

earlier you had all decided against gifts, which was understandable. even after el dorado, you didn't have infinite money to spend. but, you had saved up just enough for christmas presents for everyone. nothing too extravagant or expensive, but small things with meaning to them.

each and every present had a story or inside meaning with the person it was for. jj's gift was a handmade bracelet you made for yourself a few months ago that jj would always point out. you tried to give it to him multiple times but he would always refuse.

"what'cha got there?" a loud whisper called out, causing your soul to practically leave your body. "jesus, jj. what are you doing awake?"

his body shook with a laugh against the doorframe he was leaning against. "nuh-uh, i asked a question first."

you sighed, "mm, jus' a few itty-bitty presents." you smiled like you had just been caught doing something bad, which to be fair, you were doing something you said you wouldn't. "mhm, i thought we weren't doing presents?"

"it's a . . . christmas miracle?" you retorted, sounding too much like a question. "okay, look. i got you all presents but they were before that and it was all cheap. promise."

his eyes softened at your guilty voice. clearing this throat, he walked over and sat beside you on the ground. your shoulders were touching, as were your knees, and it made you wonder if he felt as nauseous with nerves as you did.

"'s okay. i won't tell." he leaned closer, a playful fire in his eyes, his tone playful as always. "promise." he repeated back to you. a moment of silence passed before he spoke again. "so what'd you get me?"

you rolled your eyes and scoffed, feigning annoyance. "you can't wait 5 hours?" he shook his head 'no', a grin exposing himself.

"nope." he looked away from you, at the pile of presents on the floor. he shoved his shoulder on yours before standing up, looking at you expectantly, stretching his arms in a way that had you drooling.

he didn't say another word, but you felt like you were supposed to follow him. you did, but you were so focused on his shoulders, the soft lighting from the tree lights really highlighting each ridge of his muscles, that you hadn't noticed his sudden stop.

you ran right into his back, now in shock and very confused.

"huh." he spoke, looking at your eyes and up, back and forth, before continuing. "would you look at that." he acted amused, like it was a coincidence.

but under that facade, his palms were sweaty, his heart was pounding fast and hard–feeling like it was going to explode out of his chest. he couldn't help but have a million thoughts running through his head all at once, wondering how this would go. he hoped all of the stolen glances meant to you what they had always meant to him.

you looked up after he had done it twice, now realizing what he was talking about. you could feel your cheeks warm, your heartbeat in your neck, but all you could really focus on was jj.

the bright blue eyes you had learned to lose yourself in, the lips you longed for, him in his entirety. the jj you had fallen in love with. that same jj, wanted to kiss you.

you felt like you couldn't breath. what if this was just him making another flirty joke to you? but with the way he looked at you in this moment, there was no way, his eyes were flickering between your eyes and your lips. they got stuck on your lips repeatedly. he wanted to feel them on his, wanted to taste you, if even only for a moment.

"rules are rules, right?" he whispered, his hands slowly inching to grab your waist. his thumbs rubbed up and down on the now exposed skin, the flimsy cropped shirt doing nothing to cover the goosebumps spread on your entire body.

a weak, "yeah." was all you could manage to get out, all other sounds caught deep in your throat. "yeah?" he echoed, silently begging for confirmation that you wanted this and this was actually happening. he needed to know this wasn't another dream.

"mhm. rules, y'know. pope would kill us if we didn't follow the rules." at your small joke he let out a huffy-laugh, shaking his head, trying to wipe the smile off his own face.

the moment of comfortable laughter was replaced quickly, the air feeling thicker by the second. one of his hands moved from your waist to your face, the other traveling lower to your hip. he gave it a slight squeeze as he tilted your head up.

the anticipation was killing you, but in the best way imaginable. you pushed forward, your lips finally meeting his in a desperate, but delicate kiss. the type of kiss that showed how much he wanted to kiss you, how long he's been waiting, how much he's holding back. the delicacy surprised you, you thought it would be a more heated kiss, but jj was scared of spilling his all into it and ruining it completely.

somewhere in the back of his mind, he worried that this wasn't a good way to confess, but he remembered the reason thats how he did it. john b had somehow convinced him that if you didnt like him back, he could play it off as 'usual jj flirting', but now he wasn't sure he could.

you gripped the back of his shirt, pulling him closer. his hand migrated again to your lower back, using the placement to press your body further into his. the warmth of your cuddled bodies, and in his chest, made up for the winter weather and the lack of clothing on your bodies.

you could feel his tongue poke your bottom lip ever so slightly, almost like he wasn't ready. at that thought, you could feel your lips form a smile but you were unable stop it, breaking the kiss. "wow." you breathed out. "pretty good, right?"

you forced a nod out, ignoring the underlying tone of humor in his question. you couldn't help yourself from giggling, both at your reactions and at the excitement from finally being able to kiss him. "what're ya laughing at?"

"you." he raised an eyebrow, pointing to himself. "you just kissed me." you smiled.

"christmas miracle, amirite?" you smiled to yourself, pulling him closer to hide your face in his chest. "shut up." you mumbled into his shirt. "baby, i got you in my arms right now, it's gotta be some typa miracle."

"oh yeah? this can't be just because i want to?" you teased, pulling back. the shit-eating grin on your face morphed into something a lot softer when you noticed jj's body subconsciously rock closer to you. "nah, you wouldn't."

"no?" you asked, pressing your lips into his again, and again, and again. the kisses slowly became more and more natural as you did. "nope. no way."

"jj." he paused his movement to continue, looking you straight in the eye. "yeah?"

you hesitated for a second, and jj could tell what was coming next, so he began his long awaited confession. "i like you. like, a lot. i mean, fuck, i love you. i can't, i just, don't know–"

"i love you too jay." you cut him off, knowing he was just going to spiral. "you're so cute, oh my god." you squeal after his dimples pop into his cheeks. he pushes your hand away from his cheeks, trying to avoid you noticing his flush.

"'m not cute. just, c'mere." he whispered to not break the comfortable bubble surrounding you two. he reached in for a hug, swooping his arms under yours, wrapping around your chest loosely. your arms raised to around his neck, inching your face closer again. he buried his head into the crevice of your neck, breathing you in.

"and why would i do that?" you giggled to yourself, enjoying the act of confusion and innocence. "i love you."

his suddenly serious confession caught you off guard, catching your breath in seconds. you kissed the top of his head, squeezing your arms tighter. from behind you, he could see the clock turn to midnight. "best christmas ever."

"yeah?" you asked, relief and happiness overflowing your senses. "mhm." he gently kissed you again, swiftly picking you up. out of reflex, you wrapped your legs around his torso. "jj, if you drop me i swear—"

"relax, baby. i won’t drop you." he giggled in your neck. he laid your down against the couch, letting himself lay comfortably between your legs. he rested his head on your shoulder, giving one more peck to your cheek. his fingers gripped onto your plush thighs, not planning on moving anywhere, just to hold. his lips began a descent down your neck, gentle enough to feel but not leave marks. "can it be christmas more often?"

"how ’bout we leave the mistletoe up, that way you can man up and kiss me everyday." he nodded. as he cuddled closer, his nose brushed your neck, small laughter erupting from it tickling you. "how ’bout, everyday, no mistletoe needed?" he whispered.

"works for me." you giggled out, his mouth kissing for any skin in sight. his affections sent shivers down your spine, the soft rub on your legs causing you to let out a soft sigh. he smirked at the noise escaping your lips, capturing yours and his again in a more heated and messy way this time.

"c'mon guys, not on the couch."

#jj maybank #jj #jj maybank blurb #jj outer banks #jj maybank imagine #outer banks #jj maybank obx #obx #jj maybank fluff

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snowsinterlude · 1 year ago

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overprotective, lovesick, deranged.

(yandere coriolanus x reader)

summary: your ex boyfriend couldn't seem to let you go.

if i can't have you, no one can.

trigger.warning: yandere coriolanus, obslove (obsessive love), stockholm syndrome, drugging (no its not for sexual purposes), pregnancy, marriage, horror, depictions to murder (explicit), dubcon, p in v, cockwarming, extremely toxic behavior, unhinged coriolanus, this fanfic contains extreme toxic behavior and too much blood, if uncomfortable with that content, please, don't read it.

"This might get a little messy, I'm sure.

Heads rolling for the one I adore

This may become a little brutal if I'm honest

But it's any-anything for you my dear, I promise"

overprotective.

coriolanus snow was a man of ambition; one of those who won't quiet down until the moment he had what he wanted. this was something that happened to the women he got involved with too.

lucy gray baird was one of those. the moment your now ex-boyfriend was sent to district 12 you could tell something was wrong. you could not care less, though. he wasn't your boyfriend anymore and in your most honest opinion it was something good.

when he came back you were with a different man; one named valentine, who stayed with you when you saw coriolanus kissing lucy gray. who comforted you during this time and who hugged you everynight when the thunders during rain times echoed so hard that made you feel like being killed by one of those.

valentine, who's head was decapitated in front of you.

coriolanus, who was smiling to you as he opened the 'gift' he had prepared to you.

you, who couldn't help but throw up at the sight of your dead boyfriend. you, who passed out by the sick sight of his decapitated head, his eyes opened by strings of a red line, needled carelessly. the same eyes who used to look at you with so much affection and love, now weren't looking at you at all.

when you woke up, your hands were tightly wrapped up in a tight knot that he learned to do as a peacekeeper. strung up reasons.

"good morning, my love." he smiled, kissing your forehead. you were still in the kitchen, dressed in a white dress, you didn't remember putting it on. you didn't like the fabric nor the color of white- it would always get stained too easily. "you finally woke up."

you didn't had to think much to know that what happened wasn't a dream. it was real. he killed your boyfriend.

you opened your mouth, and the scream you left was enough for him to slap you across the face. once you begun to cry, he kneeled in front of you, hands cupping your face as you shaked.

"it's okay baby, snow's here for you,"" he kissed your face, making you melt into crying as hard as you could, sob after sob making your doll heart heavy. "remember you used to call me snowflake?" he asked, and you nodded cowardly, afraid of saying anything that might make him furious. "i'm still your snowflake."

and he hugged you, caressing your scalp as you ugly cried in front of him, but to him, you would never look ugly.

lovesick.

with your face pressed against the mattress, you stared at the gigantic mirror that covered an entire wall, watching yourself.

it's been three months since valentine died, and two months since snow untied you, carried you like a princess bride and bathed you, always murmuring the waltz that played when you both met.

maybe it wasn't so bad after all. he took extra care of you, never slapped you again- it was a relapse. he took care of the red slap mark in your cheek, apploed ointment on you everyday, prepared your favorite meals and left you to your own peace, let you mourn the death of that pathetic boy you decided to date.

it wasn't his fault, right? no- it was. why the hell were you thinking that the victim was the one to put to blame for their own death? are you dumb?

well, you aren't- but you're starting to become.

why were you smiling at him as he showed you the dress he brought you? why did your heart flutter when he made you desserts? c'mon now, he killed your boyfriend. ex-boyfriend?

he wasn't there to protect you now, was he? why would he be important in anyway? of course, he was the sweetest to you, never questioned when you moaned coryo's name instead of his, he knew how hard it was to you.

for fucks sakes, what were you doing? what were you thinking?

coriolanus entered the room he made to you after three knocks, a tray with golden white details on his hand, with two toasts, less than a dozen pancakes that he knew you liked, a cup of strawberry juice and a small bow of green grapes.

once you ate at least half of it and drink the juice, he was by your side, caressing your hair.

"bunny?" he called, taking you off your own state of blankness.

"yes?"

"do you hate me?" you wanted to say yes. wanted to spit on his face for asking such a dumb question after holding you hostage and killing your boyfriend, you truly wanted to.

but you didn’t. "no," and maybe you didn't hated him at all. maybe that juice with the truth-telling pill didn't had much of an effect on you

"hm." he hummed, lips curling into the pretty smile he had. "it's good to know that."

he put the tray aside, laying by your side. why have you been laying like a sick woman at it's death bed? ah. yeah, he didn’t liked the idea of you going away, he said he didn’t want you to leave him. how cute.

you smiled at the thought. then you had to gather all the senses you had left to scold yourself.

it didn't last long though, the moment his hands found your hips and started grinding on you, you felt aroused. you shouldn't be, this was the man that killed your boyfriend. this was the man who slapped you. this was the man who didn't let you go around the house with the excuse that he didn’t want you to leave him.

but of course, your cunt didn't had the same thought that you did. so, by the amount of teasing and the way his soft, slender fingers found your clit almost immediatly, you couldn't help but moan and grind back, feeling as if you were humiliating yourself.

"s-stop that, coryo. please." you said. "i'm still mourning valentine's death-"

"i'm sorry, dove, but your pussy doesn't seem to agree with that." and he rolled your nightgown up, pulled his pants down and finally his dick was grinding against your wetness, the tip teasing your clit as he didn’t went inside, why he wasn't going inside? you needed him in.

your breath hitched at the thought, your hand gripping the sheets as he slowly thrusted, but never inside of you.

"tell me, dove, do you want it in?" he asked, his index finger teasing your clit.

"n..no, i-i don't-" he chuckled at your own lies, you felt like laughing too, the exact moment he kissed your shoulder you had to close your own lips, aware that you would end up smiling at him.

"i don't think you don't want it. tell me, baby, what do you want exactly?"

your breath hitched, you could feel how harder your nipples were compared to before. you shouldn't be wanting this. and you knew that. but you loved him so much.

"y-you. please, i'm sorry, coryo." what were you sorry about? you didn't do anything wrong other than mourn and cry.

"you're forgiven, baby. now, just let me enter you, okay?" you nodded. you were pathetic, that nod was pathetic, looking at you in the mirror was pathetic, seeing how you surrendered so easily to his touch was pathetic- the fact that you were ovulating was pathetic. the fact he knew you were fertile was psychotic, and mostly pathetic cause it was you who let him know about it when you were both dating.

you slurred a long and low moan out of your mouth, your eyes closed shut the second your walls were slowly stretched by his dick, it wasn't as painful as the first time, but you felt like being ripped apart.

dubiously, you let his dick kiss your uterus like never before. you felt so ridiculous when his dick went further into you, when your warm walls squeezed his dick into you, when your pussy felt like gushing and you cockwarmed him with pleasure, and you fucked him back, moving your hips almost like you didn't want him to see you moving.

"you would look so good pregnant, don't you think, baby?" he asked, his hand going upwards and abandoning your clit to pass on your belly. "you'd be so pretty. more than you are already"

you shook your head, panic taking over you.

"p-please, coryo. don't do it, not inside, please. not inside" of course, he didn’t even cared about your mewls, thrusting harder into you, earning a bunch of moans out of your mouth, your voice echoing as he spread your legs and made you look into the mirror to see the mess you were.

your boobs bouncing out of your nightdress, your pussy beautifully welcoming his dick inside your cunt, his balls slapping against your clit due to the pose, and the more you concentreated on the pleasure, you were closer to cumming.

"yeah, keep squeezing me like that, dove" he said into your year, sucking on your neck. you moaned as an answer "i'm gonna fuck my baby's into you."

you squeezed him too tightly, your pussy gushing around him before finally cumming. too good, too good. were all that you could think of.

"such a pretty girl, baby. you will be such a good mom." he said, finally cumming inside of you, the hot seed flowing inside you and leaking a bit.

you turned to see his face, recieving a kiss that you promptly deepened.

you were doomed.

deranged.

his grandma'am was the one to acompany you to the altar. the entire panem was there or outside waiting to see the marriage of the new president snow.

you smiled at him under the veil, your swollen round belly being the one that claimed attention more than anything. you were in fact a beautiful mom, carrying his twin girls in your heart and stomach.

you still loved him after all, who would know?

not even him expected you to say yes, not in the marriage, not at the proposal, and not at any other situation, specially when he was impregnating you.

"do you, mr. snow, accept mrs. y/n as your wife?" the priest asked, a sweet smile on his elderly lips.

"i do."

"and you, mrs. y/n, accept mr. snow as your husband?" he asked to you, and you smiled, cherry lipstick covering your lips.

"i do."

you caved your own grave, and you knew it. but if you died, you would take him with you.

that's what love is about.

#coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow #tbosas smut #coriolanus smut #yandere #obslove #obsessive love #x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #young coriolanus snow #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #young president snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus x you #x reader

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aphroditelovesu · 8 months ago

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Yan!Alexander the Great w/ Soldier's Pregnant Widow!Reader

❝ 📜 — lady l: this is a commission that I was very happy to do! I'm sorry for the delay, I confess that I had forgotten this in my drafts and only remembered it after reading your messagem, anon! I hope you enjoy it and, as requested, it is more based on Alexander's feelings for the Reader. Forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: mention of death, mourning. pregnancy and fluff.

❝📜pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader.

You were the wife of one of Alexander's cavalry soldiers who, unlike many other soldiers' wives, decided to accompany him to war. You loved your husband deeply and did not want to be separated from him.

Your husband also loved you deeply. He wasn't a general or a high-ranking officer, but your husband tried to make you as comfortable as possible in this violent environment. He was loyal to you, something rare but one you appreciated. You loved him with everything in you.

Until the day you lost him. During the Battle of Granicus, your husband died in battle and your world collapsed. You had lost the man you loved and it felt like an endless road. Alexander, being the beloved King that he was, buried the dead soldiers with the necessary honors and spoke to the wives present in the camp. And one of them was you.

Alexander was immediately enchanted by you. He was surprised at how you handled your grief, clearly you loved your husband very much and the pain of the loss you felt captivated him. He didn't take long to approach you subtly at first.

Alexander was kind and protective, offering his condolences and staying by your side. His words were kind and his discreet smiles were reserved just for you. More observant people didn't take long to notice the King's interest in you, but they never dared to say anything, not when they knew his temperament.

You found yourself lost in a sea of pain and sadness, unable to find comfort in anything around you. Alexander's comforting presence was like an anchor in the midst of the storm, offering support and compassion in such a dark time. He understood your pain as he had also lost soldiers close to him.

Alexander felt compelled to protect and care for you, not only out of gratitude for your husband's sacrifice, but also because he genuinely cared for you. His discreet smiles and kind gestures were an attempt to ease your pain, to be a ray of light amid the darkness you faced.

Although you fought your feelings, you found yourself enjoying the King's presence. But you soon discovered that you were pregnant by your late husband and you decided to focus on honoring your husband's memory and focusing on the baby growing inside you.

Alexander didn't like it at all when you tried to move away from him but he soon understood why. He wasn't angry or anything, but surprised and slightly bothered. You would have a child, something he wanted, but it wouldn't be with him. He couldn't blame you, though, it wasn't your fault.

As time passed, your belly grew and the pain of loss lessened, you found yourself more and more involved in the camp's activities, keeping yourself busy to keep away the thoughts that haunted you at night. And you found yourself increasingly close to Alexander, who made his feelings for you very clear.

He respected the fact that you weren't ready to get married due to the fact that you were pregnant, he could wait until the baby was born. But he wasn't far from you, spending his free time by your side while also taking care of you. You owned your own tent and personal effects, along with those of your late husband.

In time, your husband's child was born, and you held it in your arms with love and sadness. It was a part of him you would carry forever, a living reminder of the man you loved so much. Alexander was present and he acted as if your child were his. He didn't even like it when people mentioned it wasn't his.

You were his and your baby was his too. Alexander was skeptical about it at first but he warmed up to the idea. The mourning period is over and your child has been born, now it is time for you to become his wife and have children of his own.

#history #yandere history #yandere historical characters #alexander the great x reader #yandere alexander the great x reader #yandere alexander the great #yandere headcanons #headcanons #soft yandere #commission #x reader

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ashwhowrites · 4 months ago

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can I request one where it after the upside down and Eddie is not doing good and pushes everybody away including the reader then he realises that he really misses the Reader and beg for reader forgiveness and they make up. please and thank you love youuu.!

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

The upside down curse

The Upside Down had effects on many people, some were used to it and some experienced it for the first time. Y/N and the gang had been to the Upside Down more than once. They were slowly getting used to the torture and haunting memories.

Eddie was new to it all. The things he's seen and the pain he went through, it kept him up at night. He didn't understand how they went on with their life like they didn't see death right in their face. He stayed locked up in his room, body slowly healing as he tried to forget it all.

He started to push everyone away, seeing them reminded him of what happened. And he knew he shouldn't but he blamed all his friends and even his girlfriend. They all kept him in the dark until they needed his help. They had no problem lying right to his face over and over. They knew the dangers of the Upside Down and still sent him in. He wasn't sure if he could forgive them for that.

"Eddie," Wayne's voice came through the door as he knocked, "Y/N is here."

Eddie rolled over in his bed, looking at the door. A part of him wanted to see her but the other part was still mad about what she did.

"Tell her to go home," Eddie called out

He was met with silence, then the sound of footsteps walking away and a door closing.

~~~

She came every day and he always sent her away. But she kept showing up, even on days that Wayne wasn't there. The door was never locked and she never opened it. Y/N was a person who liked to talk everything out and he knew that conversation wouldn't end well. He feared he'd lose his temper and a screaming match would start. He almost lost her in the upside down and he wasn't ready to lose her here.

"Eddie? It's been two weeks, can we please talk about it?"

Like clockwork, her voice traveled through his door. He sighed but sat up. He thought about what he wanted to do.

"Eddie?" She asked again, knocking on the door. Eddie sat in silence with his thoughts, unaware his silence made her think the worst.

She panicked and slammed open the door. Relief in her veins as she saw him sitting on his bed.

"I didn't say you could come in," he said, no emotion in his voice as he stared ahead.

"You didn't answer! I thought you were dead or something" she argued, taking time to step into his room. She hadn't seen him in over two weeks and never realized how much she could miss seeing someone's face.

Eddie scoffed and shook his head. "Right because now you care if I'm dead or not."

Y/N clenched her eyes at his words. "Of course, I care. I've always cared," she said, moving to sit next to him. Her head turned to look at him but he didn't look back at her, head still straight.

"Eddie, I never wanted you to get involved in this" she whispered

Eddie's head snapped towards her, "then why did you?" He snapped

"I didn't!" She argued, "I didn't know you were coming. If I did, I would have locked you inside this trailer. I'd never want you in danger like that!"

"Right, that's why you all initially lied to me. You all wanted to protect me. But then what? You needed someone to save your asses and I was the damn sacrifice!" He fought, standing up as he felt his anger building.

"You can blame us all you want, but guess what Eddie!" She stood in front of him, her own anger taking over. "You made the choice, you made the choice to listen and go in. Take responsibility for it and let me help you." Her voice grew soft at the end. "I know you were scared, and I hate that I wasn't there right when you needed me. But I'm here now, let me be here, baby"

Eddie melted when her hands rested on his cheeks. He could feel his anger breaking down and the build-up of tears leaked down his face.

"I thought I was going to die" he whimpered, "I didn't want to die yet"

Y/N watched as he broke out into a sob, his head shoved into her neck. She wrapped her arms around him, rubbing his back as he cried.

"You're safe now, honey. You're right where you should be," she cooed into his ear.

He wrapped his arms around her, so tight that she couldn't move an inch. Not that she minded. She was happy to finally feel him again.

"I'm sorry," he cried, "I'm sorry I pushed you away."

"It's okay, it's okay," she said softly, kissing his head softly. "We'll be okay"

@mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlx @ineedmentalhelp123

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #ashwhowrites #eddie munson angst x female reader #eddie munson angst to fluff

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thegnomelord · 1 year ago

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18, gaz and price (separately), possibly trans for either of them?

I'm not doing two separate characters so I just picked Gaz since there's not enough smut of him. Also I blame @rodolfoparras n @lieutnt for putting me on the breeding men train :Dd. Play the game HERE

Prompt: Sex after a near death experience

CW:NSFW, Trans!Gaz, Male reader, somnophilia, breeding kink, baby trapping

Gaz nearly lost you. He knows in this industry it's only a matter of time before something like this happens, but it had still scared him to death when he saw you go down. He bargained with anything above that would listen for you to just live, useless to do anything but watch behind a screen as surgeons rushed to keep you alive.

The idea to keep a part of you strikes him when he goes to buy a new box of birth control, the knowledge of having someone to love and care for when you may not return to him has Kyle backpedaling out of the pharmacy fast as lightning.

Kyle carefully slinks into your shared bed despite the fact the pain meds in your system keep you sleeping like a log. You don't stir when he pulls your sleeping pants and boxers down, but Kyle coos softly when your cock twitches from a simple touch; just goes to show even unconscious you want him.

He lays chaste but loving kisses along your exposed skin, careful where blotches of red stain your bandages as he settles between your legs. He takes your soft cock into his mouth and just lets you rest against his tongue, warmth flooding his heart when his soft massage of your thighs makes you throb inside him. He watches your chest carefully and stays warming you until your breathing levels out again, your body relaxing even further.

He moves his tongue slowly and takes his time to relearn all your sensitive spots, each swipe of his tongue making you grow harder and harder until he can trace the veins along your cock. His mouth vibrates with a groan when a bead of pre seeps from your head and he savors the taste like it's honey, the scent and taste of you forcing him to push two fingers into himself to settle the heat in his belly. The combined sound of his lips slurping and sucking on your cock and his cunt wetly squelching as he roughly stretches himself has him clenching hard on his fingers.

He lets go of your cock when you finally get rock hard in his mouth, laying a final kiss to the tip before he straddles you. He's careful not to jostle your stitches when you can barely breathe without pulling them, bracing a hand next to your head as he uses his slick fingers to lube you up further.

Taking hold of your cock head he resists taking you balls deep and slowly eases himself down until the tip pops inside him. He breathes out slowly, lashes fluttering as you groan in your sleep. His cunt flutters around your hard shaft as he slides down, treasuring every inch as it spreads him so wonderfully. "So big for me," He's breathless when he finally settles on your thighs, hole clenching around you as his body tries desperately to adjust to your size, pain and pleasure mingling along his spine.

Your breathing picks up when he starts moving, thighs tensing to slowly rise and fall back on your cock. Kyle places a hand on his stomach and just the idea of it growing large, of being gravid with your kid, has his body moving on it's own, so lost in his little fantasy he doesn't notice you waking up.

"Kyle?" You breathe out and Gaz knows the moment you register where your cock is when your hips do a little twitch upwards.

"Mornin' love." He breathes out, leaning in to sweetly kiss your eyelids; he hopes you and the baby will have matching eyes.

"What are you doing?" You grind your teeth, eyes closing as the pleasure of his tight hot heat washes over you. You pant, gripping his thighs as he continues to ride you.

"Shhh, let me have this, yeah?" He kisses you softly, grinding his hips so your cock tip brushes against his cervix, heart fluttering when you moan unabashedly.

It takes you a little while to notice that there's no separation between your cock and his gummy walls like there usually is, "Are you on the pill?" You ask, but you don't attempt to stop him, too exhausted and sleepy to do anything but be a living dildo for him.

"Yeah." The lie slips so easily from his lips he doesn't even think about it, increasing his pace so his asscheeks clap against your thighs and drive you both closer to orgasm. "Please, mate, love, need you-" He grabs your hand and places it on his stomach, pressing down until you can feel yourself through his skin. "-right here."

The desperate look in his eyes has you nodding quickly, bucking your hips upwards and your cock twitching when he moans so sweetly. "Want me to put a baby in you, huh?" You slur, even with the arousal and pain meds clouding your mind you notice how your words make him speed up. "You want to be a mommy Kyle?"

You don't expect your words to make him gush slick. "Fuck, yes, yes, yes-" He braces against your shoulders, slamming his hips down to meet your thrusts, whimpering softly then your thumb comes down to rub his clit. "-yes, please, love, need- need your cum."

You both tumble into orgasm soon after, his hips pressing flush to yours so your cum has a direct path into his womb and thighs tensing as if you'd try to pull him off. He's panting, mind a buzz with pleasure as he can feel your cum slosh inside him when he presses against his stomach.

Your head lolls back against the pillow, eyes closing as post-orgasmic bliss threatens to pull you back into the land of dreams. Overstimulation cuts through the fog of sleep as Kyle moves, but instead of getting off he just starts slowly riding you again, small little grinds of his hips making you harden despite just cuming.

"Kyle, what?" You suck in a breath, overstimulation turning to pleasure but even then it's getting harder to stay awake when your body's so ehausted.

You feel his hand on your cheek, his lips softly kissing all around your face. "Shhhh love," He murmurs against your brow, kissing each eyelid and trailing down to the tip of your nose. "Go back to sleep, I promise I'll be quick." Pecking your nose he meets your lips in a lazy kiss.

"Fine," You concede, not able and not wanting to stop him when he looks so pretty on top of you, the spine tingling pleasure of his warm cunt continuing to clench around you slowly lulling you back to sleep. When you'll awaken, you'll find him curled up next to you, a hand held possessively held on his stomach to protect your valuable cum inside him. . . but for now Kyle will just ride you until you shoot blanks, drawing sleepy orgasm after sleepy orgasm out of you until his womb's overflowing with your cum.

#Gnome's prompt game #kyle gaz garrick #cod mw2 #x reader #male reader #top male reader #trinkets from the hoard #kyle gaz garrick x male reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gnome correspondence #x male reader #cod x male reader

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miffy-junot · 28 days ago

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Hii !!! I have a little question... i'm shy help

Does Junot had any sort of interactions / friendships with the Marshals??

Hi! I'm always happy to answer any questions <3

As Junot was relatively important in the army he knew most of the marshals, but some he was closer with than others.

Lannes - close friends with Junot! On the voyage to Egypt they kept joking around together during Napoleon's lectures.

Marmont - very old friends with Junot. They met at school in Chatillon-sur-Seine and initially Marmont was Junot's best friend, but that place was later taken by Napoleon. They remained close friends throughout the 1790s but their friendship seems to have dulled in the 1800s. Either way they still liked each other, and Marmont speaks positively of Junot in his memoirs.

Berthier - defended Junot after Smolensk, and exchanged correspondence with Laure on the subject after Junot's death. I don't think he was actually friends with Junot, but he was one of the few marshals that supported him.

Kellermann - collaborated with Junot on the terms of surrender at the Convention of Cintra.

Bessieres - not exactly friends with Junot, but was respected by him because of an incident in 1811 (Laure and baby Alfred were in Salamanca; Bessieres offered to personally take them to France where they would be safe; Laure refused to leave without her husband; Junot was very thankful to Bessieres for being so kind)

Davout - I genuinely cannot remember my source for this, but I seem to remember that Junot and Davout were on cordial terms although not proper friends

Ney + Soult - didn't like Junot because of his military failures in the peninsular wars

Massena - enemies with Junot because of an awkward misunderstanding (Junot and Laure accommodated in the same palace as Massena and his mistress; according to etiquette Junot should have found another place to stay but he wasn't aware of that; Junot introduced Laure to Massena's mistress which was a grave faux pas because he wasn't meant to acknowledge the existence of the mistress; Massena hates Junot and Junot is confused (he often struggled with etiquette))

Murat - friends to enemies. At first they were friends, but after Junot's affair with Caroline they quickly turned into enemies. They almost had a duel but Junot changed his mind and decided it wasn't worth it. Junot claimed that Murat had blamed him for Smolensk, and wrote to Laure that "the man of a thousand plumes" was trying to ruin him. It's messy.

And here is a brief summary of Junot's relationships with generals who weren't marshals:

friends: Duroc, Rapp, Thiebault, Lallemand (Junot's aide-de-camp and later a general in his own right)

enemies: Beauharnais, Foy

I hope this answered your question!

#jean andoche junot #napoleonic era #napoleonic #sigh now its time to tag everyone #jean lannes #auguste de marmont #louis alexandre berthier #jean baptiste bessières #andre massena #Joachim murat #napoleons marshals

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peggyao3 · 3 months ago

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Relic - Pt. 10 "Fettered Flesh"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧

A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: 18+, smut, she/her AFAB FMC, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum and big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, Frank Herbert would frown, some politics, implied/referenced (child) abuse❗, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts❗, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable/Emotional/Possessive Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, implied/referenced cannibalism❗, Murder, Female rage, Teaching the Universe about Feminism, Angst with a Happy Ending

WORD COUNT: 5k

A/N: HELLO PRECIOUS PEOPLE 💕 Shit hits the Giedi Prime fan, so get out your umbrellas!! I feel like with every chapter I'm getting more excited 🥹 And everyone who has left a comment is to blame 😭 I appreciate it so greatly 😭 I've recently started an internship thingy (in a manner of baby's first real job experience lmao), so I have a bit less time to write, but chapter 11 and 12 are finished already, so I do have a bit of food in stock 💪

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

← Previous Chapter, Next Chapter →

Day 5

Jealousy is a beast, but loneliness is a monster.

Jealousy ignites with fiery tendrils but loneliness drowns you slowly until you're staring up from the bottom of the pitch black sea, yearning for the light.

All day she's been mulling over the three woman-creatures, Feyd's "pets". What is it that infuriates her the most? The physical violence? The fear of what they might have done to her - Death, torture or worse? Their derogatory status? Their beastliness grafted into female bodies, paired with the fact that Feyd has been bedding them at some point?

Without thinking about it, and perhaps it is tactless, she has been pouring her heart out to Lilia while the attentive handmaid is treating her scabbed injuries from last night. Now it is evident that wound management is a well-needed skill around the Harkonnen palace. The sarcophagus is safely folded up and her new weapon is tucked into one of the compartments.

"Am I overreacting?!" She asks, even though - hell no - she knows she isn't, but a part of her soul yearns for human connection, affirmation, camaraderie, friendship. It feels so good to be talking to someone who is not the man she thought she knew or the belittling Bene Gesserit sisters.

"Hmm," Lilia begins tentatively and the glowglobe light brings out the unusual color of her eyes as she tilts her head, so amber that they almost appear golden. "While I'll say it's never been common for the na-Baron to practice monogamy… I'll also say that I'd be quite furious at my husband if he had three women on the side." Her voice quivers upon women, as if it repels her to describe the three beings as such. The spider in the Baron's throne room may be the most harmless monster to roam these halls.

The engineer's questions chip away and it becomes perfectly clear that it's the jealousy that cuts the deepest, even with her superficial wounds cared for, a blade is wedged inside her guts that will keep on cutting.

"And do these 'pets' have handmaids too?" A self-destructive question to determine where her own status truly lies. What's a bride but another pet to him?

"They used to have handmaids…" Lilia hesitates. "But they always ended up eating them. I'm glad to be assigned to you, my Lady."

Great. There she has another horror to add to the menagerie.

Lilia continues: "If it calms you, I doubt there will be any further incidences with them. The na-Baron has been in an, uhm, unstable mood since last night." The maid's posture turns rigid. She shouldn't be speaking about the na-Baron like that, but the Earth woman's emotions are contagious. Lilia will get herself killed if she's not careful. She's been telling that to herself since she was a little girl.

"Unstable, uh-huh, well so am I."

The Harkonnen woman nods and decides it is best not to elaborate on what it means when Feyd-Rautha is having the worst day of his life.

Vladimir Harkonnen chuckles with delight at his nephew's distress and the infantile killing spree that has been painting the halls black since last night.

It took even less time than he expected, for the new woman to be disgusted by his poor nephew and he cannot hold it against her. Feyd-Rautha is a raging child in an unfortunately manly body.

The Baron is well-entertained by the hollow screams that blare down the hallways. First the three harpies. A shame, they had helped keep Feyd settled so nicely and they hadn't been cheap either. It's also a shame that the Bene Tleilax don't offer bulk discount, considering the number of Gholas the Baron saw himself forced to commission for the little game his nephew and he have been playing.

Next on Feyd's blade was the guard at his little witch's door, then anyone who crossed his path in the night, all the while Feyd was chafing with desire to be cut and hurt. But no one outside of the ring is allowed to raise their blades against the Baron's heir apparent, unless instructed by the Harkonnen sovereign himself.

Some fire has returned to his nephew since the woman's arrival and he appreciates that, yes, he does, but he will keep a sharp eye on the two of them. He has no doubt that she's a Bene Gesserit agent who has implanted phantasms in Feyd-Rautha's mind, but Vladimir is willing to play the sisterhood's game, for his nephew's sake, even though he had sworn to never let a witch enter his fortress again.

Not since Lady Margot Fenring had tried to steal his lovely boy's precious seed. Luckily, Feyd's blade had worked quicker than the thief's vocal chords.

But Valdimir is willing to adapt. The boy had been boring him to death for the past two years and he used to be so entertaining and feisty!

In the evening hours after a night and day of bloodshed, Feyd still has stamina (a trait the Baron cherishes so dearly about his nephew) and comes barging into the guarded dining room, bringing with him the cloying scent of blood that sticks to the tacky soles of his boots. He wears the clothes of yesterday and blood lust in his eyes.

Careful now.

Vladimir gives no sign to the guards, chews without haste and takes a noisy gulp of wine, making sure a bead rolls down the folds of his massive neck. The muscle at his nephew's jaw twitches and his fingers strangulate the blood-slick handle of his blade.

The eight arm-legged arachnid creature shivers in its basket under the table, eager to get to Feyd, partly because his boots smell yummy, but it doesn't dare move away from the Baron's feed. Smart thing.

"Don't look at me like that. It's not my fault that she doesn't like you, boy."

Feyd halts as if struck by one of the bolts of infrared lightning that cook the atmosphere during the summer months. Tension strains his neck, a bull ready to charge at his Matador and for a second the Baron thinks he'll have to switch on his shield ring. But his nephew turns and barges off with bouncing, stomping steps, draining his stamina and wetting his knives on everything that breathes, when the only one he really wants to kill sits fat and mighty on his throne.

It's almost cute, Vladimir thinks. The boy could kill him so easily now, if he really put his cunning, little mind to it. He's strong enough, smart enough, but his spirit - that's the crux. Feyd's spirit is broken and riddled with fear of the punishments. The last time he tried was at 17 and then never again.

Ah-h-h, yes, the Baron has conditioned him well and he considers it his retirement plan. Age hasn't left the Harkonnen sovereign unscathed and while his mind may still be sharp (or else how would he have come up with such a genius plan!), his morbidly obese body fully relies on the protection of his shield ring, guards, lung machine and poison snoopers. But as long as the boy still fears him, the deadliest threat within these halls remains on a pretty, silver leash.

The fire of jealousy has dwindled down and now all she does is miss him, sitting lonely in her room, lonely on this planet, lonely in the universe with only inanimate objects and the virtual messages and images of dead people to keep her company. None of this can ever compare to the warm hands of her beloved and his smile, the roundness of his cheeks and his painted teeth. She misses the way his eyes used to crinkle just for her. He had made her believe that only she could make him smile and offer a sliver of peace to his soul.

It's been two years since their last dream. Why wouldn't he have taken other women?

He said he "hasn't touched them". Since when? Since he learned she's alive? Since their first dreams? Ever?

She regrets now that she denied him when he knocked on her door an hour ago. The bitter guilt of disgracing oneself crawls over her when she slowly moves towards the door, but her self-respect has cauterized and become cinders along with her fury. Feeling sick to her stomach, she places her hand on the panel and the heavy door slides open.

Finding herself face to back with a guard in bulky plate armor, she halts. She wouldn't know where exactly to find Feyd's room anyway. The man turns on his heels and salutes briskly before returning his hand to the hilt of his saber.

"Good evening. Ah, wait, are you… New?" She blurts out, not meaning to seem disrespectful. The Harkonnens often do look quite alike to her, but she could have sworn the old guard was a little shorter.

"Yes, my Lady." The man looks right above the crown of her head, avoiding her eyes.

"What happened to the other guard?"

"He was replaced, my Lady."

That does make sense and she's almost a little relieved. She wouldn't want anyone who'd let these bloodthirsty creatures inside to guard her and her most valuable possession. However, she still hopes this incident won't ruin his chances of employment indefinitely.

"I see." She glances cautiously down the austere corridor. Past the windows, there is only blackness and the occasional faraway rumble from the factories. "Do you have to stand here all night? Your feet must be hurting. What about a chair?"

"I'm not allowed such luxuries."

"Says who? You can't excel at your job while being overworked and your feet are aching in those boots."

The man wonders if the na-Baron's Lady wishes to insult or test him. "I am at full capacity, my Lady!" He salutes again. "I have no complaints about my boots."

"Fine, alright. Could you please point me the way to Feyd's room then? I want to see him. No need to accompany me, I'm sure I'll find it, just make sure no one enters my room, please?"

"Sorry!" The man extends his arm to the side, stopping her advance around him without laying a finger on the Lady. "The na-Baron has ordered this door to be sealed unless he or your handmaid demand entrance."

"Well I don't demand entrance, I want to exit. I want to see Feyd."

The guard grows queasy. That scenario was not included in his instructions. To be fair, the briefing for his new position can be considered rudimental at best but he didn't complain. Up here has been the safest spot in the palace tonight. "The na-Baron doesn't welcome visitors in his private quarters."

"But I'm his…" She swallows uncomfortably. "Betrothed, or am I not?"

"You are, my Lady."

"So, couldn't you perhaps call him?"

The poor guard's expression says 'I'd rather not'. The na-Baron has only just settled, finally, and even the dumbest desert rat knows not to wake a sleeping tiger. All evening long he's been wondering how many of his comrades will be dead come the morning and he doesn't want to be the next one to become fodder for the slaves' food rations. "I'm sorry, my Lady. It is against the protocol to disturb the na-Baron at night unless there is an emergency. Is there an emergency?"

"No…" The woman's expression twists into defeat and she pads backwards with slackened shoulders and somber eyes. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."

The door slides shut and she is too sad to even be angry about her gentle imprisonment. There's nothing out there for her anyway, except for Feyd, and if he doesn't want to see her…

Self-destructive thoughts sprout from the cinders in her chest and grow into the wildest phantasms. The guard was too kind to tell her Feyd has visitors in his room. Perhaps he explicitly decreed that she is not to join him.

To prevent herself from hurtling into a bottomless spiral, she must find a distraction. Nearly choking on bitter tears, she opens up the virtual app drawer that she's most familiar with and selects the 3d-modeling tool. A nice, little task to keep her thoughts from straying is exactly what she needs, and so she settles down on the bed and begins to design a practical, foldable, printable chair for her guard, thoughtfully optimizing stability and the required resources.

The engineer doesn't notice when her tears dry, but they do.

Day 6

She sleeps awfully that night, despite the chip's helpful sleeping program consisting of gentle rain and soothing frequencies. It can't have been much longer than two hours when she is awoken by a knock on the door, followed by another, more insistent one a moment later.

The 3d-modeling interface still overlays reality when her eyes snap open and her sluggish brain activity requires a moment to shut it down. She was almost finished with the printable chair parts last night, but she must have dozed off eventually.

The knocking persists and she calls: "Lilia?"

A pause. "It's me." An unmistakable, deep and raspy voice comes muffled from the other side. Feyd-Rautha, freshly showered and dressed in a clean, casual suit, leans his forehead against the cool, thick plastic, breathing hard and fast so that his respiration condenses on the door. Waiting, he pleads silently for mercy. He cannot do this anymore, doesn't want to kill anymore just to feel something other than fear.

She freezes, legs half swung off the mattress as anxiety twists her belly. All of her jealousy comes crashing back and a little demon whispers poison in her ear: Go back to your hyenas and toy around with them, not me!

When silence is the answer to Feyd's timid greeting, his stomach drops as if filled with lead. Blood pounds in his ears like the war drums on his birthdays and his breath becomes shallow, so that he no longer even hears the guard's antsy shuffling. What will he do if she never forgives him?

A harrowing need for violence flashes through him cold and dark and his twitching hand jerks for the blade at his hip but the door rushes open before he can brandish it and his woman faces him with crossed arms, her face puffy from sleep but her eyes are wide and vulnerable.

She beckons him to enter and he follows, eyes racing to the crowns of thorns in the vase, the sarcophagus, the ruffled bed, everything the way it was. How does she deal with pain?!

"Hello," Feyd mumbles, voice reduced to a tiny, grated whisper.

"Hello."

"Can we… talk?"

The relic nods and waits, clammy fingers clutching her sleeves. But then Feyd says… nothing. His eyes are focused on an imaginary point somewhere behind her navel and his jaws strain as if chewing a brick.

So, she begins: "I'm sorry, but I was very upset." She paces, shoulders drawn up. "I know that customs are different around here, I mean, they obviously are," she guffaws quietly and shakes her head. "But where I'm from, it requires consent to have more than one partner and I never gave you that consent. I've never given my consent to anything that's happened to me since I woke up! And then I found out you're alive and I can be with you and I really believed everything would finally be better, but you-" Her voice hiccups. "I'm very upset, okay?" Her lips twist and she lifts a hand to her mouth, sobbing quietly into her palm. "You're so different in real life."

Feyd's frozen limbs regain their agility and he jumps to her side as she tries to turn away, a swift predator despite his anguish. He clutches her by the arms. "Wait! Remind me. H-How was I in our dreams?"

"I- I don't know, you looked happy." Her arms burn where he's holding onto her with his broad palms and long fingers. "And you were kind."

"Have I not been kind to you?"

"To me, yes. But being kind only to me is not enough." She shakes her head bitterly.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Be honest with me. Who are these three?! They said you don't play with them anymore like you used to, and they hurt me, Feyd!" She writhes out of his clenched fists and he lets her because when her fingers skim his wrists, all his muscles go weak. She yanks up her shirt, showing off the healing gash on her waist.

Feyd wants to kill his darlings all over again and his sinful mouth twists into anger. "They used to be my pets. Pleasure slaves, if you will. Just some meaningless toys, nothing more, I swear it to you."

"Pleasure slaves!" She blurts out, shaking her head. At least he's being honest but - what the fuck?! "You-" Stumbling over her own words, she backs away from him with disgust. "Who are you? Who the fuck are you?"

More violence waits on her tongue. Does he respect anyone other than himself?

"You know me! You know who I am, where are you going?!" Doesn't she know she knows more about him than anyone else?

"I don't know shit about you!" She yells. "Where were you last night?"

"What?" All color is drained from his face. How could she know?

"Were you with them because I couldn't perform the way you wanted the other day?"

"What are you talking about?!" Feyd tries to grasp her by the arms once more but she twists away. If anything, he is at blame for being unable to make his woman comfortable enough to reach her release. What a pitiful good-for-nothing he is, pathetic down to the last, rotting cell. "I haven't touched my pets since I met you and that's the truth!"

"Oh, yeah? Then why was I not allowed to see you at night?"

"What makes you say that?"

"I tried to come to you last night, but the guard at my door said I'm supposed to stay in this room! So, were you with them?!"

Feyd stops his advance and an incredulous shimmer glazes over his blinking eyes. He could have held her last night, against his hurting heart. A dizzying lightness befalls his chest and sorrow becomes anger and anger wings his footsteps when he turns to the door, grinning, then giggling. Feyd slams his veined hand against the panel so hard, the screen cracks and inky blood slips down the valleys of his palm.

"Feyd? Feyd! What are you-"

The baffled guard faces the snickering na-Baron behind the opening door, last night's tiger resurrected like a Ghola for one last kill. A stammered 'my Lord' on diddering lips. Feyd-Rautha looks as bestial as his hyenas with prowling steps and rolling shoulders, searing eyes locked on his unmoving prey.

"You told my woman she couldn't see me last night? S'that right?" A slip of pink peeks out of the ghastly frame of black, gnashing teeth.

"My Lord, I beg your mercy, I didn't wish to distur-"

Metal flashes. The relic screams as the length of Feyd-Rautha's blade carves into the guard's pallid neck, Adam's apple bulging and sitting on the knife like a popped, black cherry. Blood sputters around Feyd's clenched fingers and laughter has faded from his lungs at once. He digs deeper as the guard draws in gurgling breaths, bubbles of air swimming in the blood around the metal.

The relic freezes like a mouse, glued to the spot as if she might turn invisible to the cold eyes of the beast who wears her lover's clothes. He looks nothing like Feyd-Rautha now, his features empty and alien with eyes that don't feel and hands unfazed by the death that stains them in thick, inky streams that roll down his victim's neck.

This is how the universe sees him.

Feyd's blade slashes sideways, spraying a half moon of blood across the corridor and when the guard stumbles, he falls back into the na-Baron's knife, adding a vertical gash to the horizontal one, tip sinking into the flesh under his jaws, and with a jerk - up into his tongue.

The man grunts, still clinging to his life by a thread, and lurches forwards without drawing his sword. His head falls on Feyd-Rautha's shoulder. Feet shuffle in a grotesque waltz and Feyd's bloody fingers slip around the taller man's neck, holding him there while his blade plunges into his belly between armor plates so deftly, he could find all the weak spots blindfolded. The body slackens, weighing down on Feyd-Rautha whose ichor dripping fingers aren't ready to let go.

Shuk! Shuk!

Is the sound of his blade sinking into soft flesh and viscera, whipping back out with a spray of blood and entrails.

The Bene Gesserit may have proclaimed her human, but the adrenaline that sets her nerves ablaze is a gift from her ancestors, animals, because that's what humans are at the end or the day when facing a bigger predator.

Fwump.

Feyd looks her way, the dead body dropped, and blood covers his hand like a shiny glove of ink, dripping down the blade tip in a drizzling stream. The light catches on the sharp edges of his alabaster skull and all she sees is a new, terrifying breed of human, birthed by a world of poison and decay. There are millennia between them. They may share the same DNA but that doesn't mean he is not an alien to her.

In the end, the man from her dreams is not the man of her dreams.

Out the door? - Blocked! Death!

Off the balcony?! - Death!

To the Sarcophagus then. To her gun.

She turns and sprints, feet skidding over the shards of her rose-colored glasses, but Feyd pounces, a beast hungry for carnage, and catches her around the waist, hurling her backwards with the strength of three men. His blade clatters to the ground.

"No, wait. No. NO! NO! You can't go," he howls. "You cannot leave me!"

Wailing, she thrashes in his grasp and slams her elbow into his guts, her foot against his shin, then his crotch and the soft flesh there is squashed by her heel. When his hold slackens, she twists away and bolts, bare toes slipping across icy marble, but blood-smeared fingers find her shoulder, tearing on the fabric. She throws herself away from him so hard, the seam starts coming apart, so his other hand flies to her throat, steel-hard fingers curling around clammy flesh, yanking her around and against the wall.

She can't be looking at him like that, like he's the devil. Like he looks at his uncle.

Desperately, his lips search for hers but she jerks her head to the side, bites, scratches, nails burrowing into his throat. No is the word that Feyd-Rautha raps out between violent kisses that seek her pulse point with his tongue and teeth, no, she can't ever leave him, no, not ever, even if she hates him like everyone else. Her fear poisons the sweat on her neck and her nails don't egg him on, they hurt. He takes a knee to the guts and his lungs pop open for a harrowed cry.

Pain used to be pleasure but everything hurts, she doesn't love him anymore. One more meek and quiet final 'no' as he abandons the assault on her neck and his slackened arms wrap around her middle, hiding his face from rejection in her shoulder's soft flesh. Tears drip hotly, finally. All day and all night he's been waiting for the cathartic downpour, but not even the most pitiful plea could rouse a sliver of empathy in the hollow of his chest. Now he bawls like a baby forgotten in its crib and his blood-soaked hands seek purchase at the back of her shirt.

The woman grows still, nails still wedged inside the bloody crescent indents in his neck. Her lungs ache when she draws a trembling breath and Feyd-Rautha's hard, heavy chest moves with her, no more fight left in him. Quietly, she cries with him and curls her arms around his round shoulders, holding him there as he clings to her like an abandoned child and sheds tears for all the hurt and all the fear.

The man of her dreams is still there, somewhere, under the alien shell, vulnerable, weeping.

"You hate me, don't you?" A broken sob.

Looking over his head, the dead guard's viscera glitters darkly on the hallway and she is surprised to realize that even now, she doesn't hate him.

Feyd continues: "This is why I never wanted you to know who I am. I am awful."

"You're not awful," she whispers, fingers slipping around the back of his head, nails rimmed darkly by Feyd's blood.

"I have to be awful. I was born to be awful."

"That's not true…" He was groomed to be awful.

But Feyd isn't finished. In a fashion of now or never, confessions spill out of him like poison rain. "I killed my mother when I was four. I don't remember why. I killed my pets. I kill men for sport. I kill people for fun. I kill because it's the only thing I can do. Yesterday, I-" His voice breaks. "I killed anyone I could find and no one fought back. I lo-o-ost count."

A full glass can't get any fuller when pouring more water, so shock and disgust are lost to the acceptance that has smoothed over the crescendo. They're just information to be added into a folder in her head. Feyd killed his mother. Feyd kills people for fun. Still, she holds him, fingers sliding up and down the back of his head as his shaky sobbing turns breathless and ugly.

"Okay," she whispers and rests her cheek on his head, exhaling softly so her warm breath fans his scalp. "For fun?"

"Ye-e-es."

"So, you had fun last night when you-" She swallows. "Killed?"

"No."

She lets out a thoughtful hum and Feyd's grip on the small of her back tightens. Still, he doesn't dare look at her and tears and snot have soaked her shirt. With her emotions currently defective, her ability for logic is still sharp, and so she concludes, it does all make sense.

Her poor Feyd, a current had pulled him under when he was barely a child and then layer after layer, he has been building his armor so as not to drown in the maelstrom of abuse. With every kill, a little boy has been screaming for help in an empty room.

Soft lips press a kiss to the crown of his head and Feyd's breath trembles in her hold, a beast tamed by a loving caress. That's all it takes.

Just because she understands his actions, doesn't mean she endorses them.

"Will you still be my wife?"

"I haven't decided yet." Another kiss so gentle, it taunts the corpses stacked up in the processing hall.

"So, we're no longer engaged?"

"I don't think we ever were, not to me. But that doesn't mean I don't love you."

Dizzily, Feyd-Rautha raises himself. If not for the fingers twisted into his woman's shirt, he might just topple back into the spinning vortex at whose edge he is teetering now, one foot in heartbreak, the other in salvation. Blue eyes crack open, rimmed with dark blood vessels. She doesn't flinch, doesn't bolt, only her hands slide to the front of his suit and slip under the lapels, thumb rubbing where his heart hammers.

Feyd sees the tracks of dried tears on her cheeks and the shadow of horror tucked away in the corners of her eyes in a way that is all too familiar to him. More than anything, he wants to delete the images from her head and close the door, kick the blade under the bed, pretend it never happened. He tried to do everything right, got her flowers, hid her away in her own room away from state matters, made love to her with all his heart, but at the end of the day he is still who he is when he can't hide within a dream and it'll never be enough.

"Feyd, is… Is Lilia okay?"

"Yes, she is," comes the earnest reply and she exhales shakily, head sinking against Feyd's chest, arms sliding around his waist beneath the suit where his skin is burning hot.

"Thank God." Her voice warbles, the only warning before her knees give out and every other muscle along with them. The pair sink to the cold, hard ground. "I just want to go home," she sobs and crawls in her beloved's lap which is still the only place in the cold, hard universe that soothes her soul.

Not her sarcophagus, although it is tempting to freeze herself up again and sleep forever. No, it is still him. A new home, not what she had imagined, but a home.

"Me too," Feyd sighs and squishes his cheek against the top of her head, closing his eyes to envision the bedroom of their shared dream, blue pillows, a white bed, a softly rustling fern in a terracotta pot, her in his arms. Home.

How easy it would be to demand of him: 'If you kill one more innocent, I will leave you!' But she might just kill more than she saves that way, and maybe him too, and maybe herself.

"Feyd, can you-" She sniffles. "If you get angry again, please never hurt Lilia. And whoever the new guard will be, don’t hurt him either. Can you do that for me please?"

"I promise." He squeezes her tight, eyes screwed up so tightly that he sees only dizzying stars. "I love you. I'm sorry."

She cannot fix the whole world, but she can start where she can see. It's not a solution, but a sapling, and a sapling can grow.

Mother Father How did I end up here, stone bound? All I feel ist the striking distance to the clouds My flesh is fettered on the skin of the soil But even so I almost reach the sparks in the void Sailing through the vacuum, am I drowned or alive?

- Cepheus by Fewjar

A/N: Okay, I promise promise this was the angstiest chapter, we're climbing uphill from here!! 🥺🥺🥺 Hand over your guesses, what do you think will happen from here? 😌💕 Thank you so much for all of your time!

TAG LIST:

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted

#feyd #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x reader #feyd x oc #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x oc #feyd imagine #feyd rautha imagine #feyd fanfiction #feyd rautha fanfiction #feyd smut #feyd rautha smut #dune part 2 #dune part two #dune 2 #austin butler #peggysuave fanfics #peggysuave;relic

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imthelastshadowpuppet · 5 months ago

Text

I understand why henry winter killed himself. Not because there is nowhere to escape anymore, its because he doesnt have any place to go since julian left. Henry doesnt belong to modern world and the only one who understands his own world is julian. They speak a language that no one can able to understand. They all can translate the sentences henry and julian speaks but they can never understand the way they use the terms. Henry loved camilla i belive that but he loved her in earthly way. He just answered her love. And he didnt love julian the way couples love, he loved julian with his mind and soul. Not with desire. He is craved to being undestand and he is addicted to the one who understands him. Henry never lowered himself infront of anyone he always has a cold gaze short words and intellegence but in his last time with julian henry was so weak and desperate infront of him. He knows he is gonna lose him cause he knows him too well. And he blames julians weakness. While he blames his self and knows that he cause all of this. He never felt guilty before his expression but after walking out that door a piece of him died. His thoughts got rude. Forcing him to death. But its obvious that he doesnt plan for suicide before he got that chance in his hand. He even planning to impound his car to richard for saving charles and himself. But the moment he got the gun in his hand he didnt even think and kiss his earthly love then -bang bang he hit the ground.

there is two songs plays on my mind:

the first one, where henry is weak infront of julian and the days after...

Cause there's nothing for us to talk about

Like the future and those things

Cause there's nothing for me to think about

Now that he's gone, I can't feel nothing-

-You did it, I never

I'm falling for forever

I'm playing head games with you.

and the second one:

Music played and people sang

Just for me, the church bells rang

Now he's gone, I don't know why

Until this day, sometimes I cry

He didn't even say goodbye

He didn't take the time to lie

Bang bang, he shot me down

Bang bang, I hit the ground

Bang bang, that awful sound

Bang bang, my baby shot me down.

#secret history #henry winter #hell is a teenage girl #girlblogging #female hysteria #the secret history #spotify #tlsp #lana del rey #nancy sinatra #lana del ray aka lizzy grant #donna tartt

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fleshwerks · 17 days ago

Note

Wait what's the tea on the whole Davrin and Assan situation? I feel like I missed something. Are there links?

It was a Reddit AMA for Veilguard, and it was something of a disaster.

disclaimer: i'm not just lily myself, i'm also not north american, so i'm an outsider fan looking in when it comes to this issue, which does have a heavy, if not dominant, racially charged component, but here's what seems to be the gist of it.

So. When the game first came out, some people noticed and discussed the character Davrin, right? And expressed either worry or frustration with how this Dalish black male elf seemed very interesting, but his whole deal seemed to be dominated by Assan getting in the way with cute dog stuff. Whenever players tried to pry threads on his feelings about the Dalish, and other things out of him, it always seemed like inevitably, all things lead back to Assan and Assan's cute baby pet shenanigans.

So then, when it was time to choose between Harding and Davrin, there were entire reddit threads on the main sub, as well as plenty of Tumblr and bsky content about how everybody chose Davrin to die... until Assan dived after him, and presumably died as well. And then these fans admitted that they instantly reloaded an older save, and chose Harding to die instead. Entire threads of ''oh no, not the dog!"

It hadn't quite reached the fever pitch yet, but then the AMA rolled around.

Now, BW has a bad history with regards to treating their black companions with much dignity. And Bioware fans in turn have a bad history with saying mealy-mouthed shit like "I don't hate them because they're black, I hate them because they cheated on my Shepard (Jacob Taylor)/they're boring (Liam Costa)/they're bootlicker bitch (Vivienne)". That, and having a cast that either all pass the paper bag test, or if BW's generous, have one (1) black person that ends up controversial with the fans due to poor writing choices, or because fandom forgives, idk, solas, more for being Like That than it forgives a black character for comparatively minor trespasses. Double standard.

There's also the trope 'black dude dies first'. And in this case, the 'first to die' choice came down to a black man new character, and a popular white girl from a previous game.

Then the reddit AMA took place, and Epler had this to say:

And the fandom imploded. Some righteously, for Epler outright stating it that Assan dominating Davrin's entire character and being the emotional anchor that'd give Davrin a shot of being chosen over Harding, and for failing to make Davrin stand out enough on his own to compete against Harding (debatable. When it wasn't Assan hour, Davrin was great. Total mensch.) Which is fucked up.

Another part of the fandom suddenly felt like Bioware played them for fools and made them do a racist thing by appealing to them with the cute baby griffon, acting like they somehow got manipulated and not, in fact, entirely catered to.

And now there's further discourse and reaction towards that part of fandom, which I think reveals both BW and the fandom as frankly still rotten and not having learned a goddamned thing since earlier games: Bioware included Assan, because they knew Assan would be wildly popular and that Assan would be what'd give Davrin a shot at being chosen, not Davrin himself... and it worked. And some people keep coping with how 'Davrin's death 'made sense for his arc!' and completely try to downplay the fact that most people saved Davrin because the damned flying dog was too cute to die. That pale fandom can't really wash their hands of it, because BW deliberately catered to them with Assan, and it worked exactly as intended.

Some even got mad at Bioware for making Assan die with Davrin, because fuck the black guy I guess, how dare they make his flying dog be loyal to him until death, it hurts my feelings!

It's a clusterfuck with fans blaming bioware, bioware blaming fans, fans blaming other fans, 'go woke go broke' dickheads still on their same bullshit fanning the flames and neither/none of them realising that 'that' part of fandom, and bioware, deserve each other and mirror one another perfectly.

It's the pits, chief. If you're interested in more, you can search the #davrin tag and sort by 'latest', many people there having their own take and eloquent criticism that further elaborates.

#ask tag #veilguard tag #veilguard critical #veilguard ama #davrin

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feyclowns · 3 months ago

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Ok I’ve got a genuine question this time lol. I forgot when Cosmo was born, half of Fairy World blew up. Does he still manage to do that here. I can’t imagine how easy it was to have him given how magically potent and dangerous he is.

so, after a lot of personal debate on the cosmo thing, i think i've come to an interpretation i like!

cosmo has an incredible amount of magic due to his von strangle bloodline. while his mother and grandmother were above average powerful, cosmo was born with nearly the full power of a proper fey. this wouldn't be so much of a problem if cosmo's central core hadn't began producing its own magic before he was born.

when a fairy is pregnant they're not so much giving all their magic to their baby as sharing it; while yes, they expend a tremendous amount of magic to develop their young, father and baby sort of even out their magic levels between themselves.

what i'm saying is cosmo gave his dad magical backup, which is nearly unheard of in pregnancy. cosmo could handle it for longer, because his higher endurance core system matured way too early. cosmo was given access to a training wand when he began showing signs of magical backup himself at the hospital, and he proceeded to release a magic shockwave that ended up frying a power grid, knocking out half of fairy world's energy. it was kind of a catastrophe overall but euphemia still chose to love and adore cosmo anyway- blaming her own genes if anything for papa cosmo's death.

also cosmo was doing his happy buzzies at the ripe age of 6 hours old

#fairly oddparents #fop #cosma family #mama cosma #cosmo cosma #tw parent death #the fairly oddparents #cosmo fairywinkle-cosma #euphemia cosma

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ultimate-marysue · 2 months ago

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I bring you a Batfam Wing!AU I've been cooking for a while:

Most of society have vestigial wings (the wings are there, but tinier and incapable of flight) from common species like sparrows, Pidgeons or [insert local bird].

Bruce Wayne has Bat wings (a very rare type from the Kane side of the family). Martha knew about it because she has heard the family stories about having to "cover them up" or letting the babies die because they're considered a terrible omen, but really no one outside the family knows. So, The Waynes and Alfred disguise Bruce's wings to avoid social ostracization. They try to keep a balance between protecting Bruce and avoiding self hatred, but it's a difficult line to ride. Having to hide his true wings is part of why he considers Batman his true self, Brucie Wayne being a disguise.

Kids have tinier bodies in proportion to their wings, so the can use them for braking falls or gliding from high places. You can rarely tell what your wings are going to be like as an adult, the fledgling plumage is always a muddy brown. Usually you get one of your parents pattern, but much like Bruce, some variants can skip generations.

Dick's parents had big colorful and powerful wings. Their tricks made even more impressive by their aerial maneuvering in a world where most people are bound to the ground. They still perform traditional acrobatics, tying their wings back like a magician shackling himself before jumping into the water tank. Their death made more ironic by the fact they could actually fly.

The Robin nickname is almost literal now, since Dicks costume made his chest read and his wings brown. Batman doesn't make as much use of the grapple, since he can fly, but it becomes Robin's signature gadget. The kid shoots up at the sky and gently glides down, his wings way more trained than the average kid due to his work at the circus.

He leaves the Robin mantle the day he sheds his fledgling feathers. Shocking Bluejay wings of quite the wingspan become Nightwing's signature. As a civilian he covers them with grey and iridescent powder, keeping them close to his back. Pidgeon wings are not the tiniest, so the disguise works well enough.

Barbara had big raven wings, at least until Joker took them from her. Being wheelchair bound is an adjustment, yes, but the phantom pain from her missing wings will always be the worst part. Dick trains really hard only so he can be strong enough to take her flying. The first time they clumsily soar through the Bludhaven skies she cries happy tears. She eventually learns to accept her dual disability, and all bat girls wear dark wings in her honor

Cass has batwings, and she doesn't try to hide them. They come from Shiva's side and Bruce takes it as an omen to take her in. She has the best wing control of the entire family, easily surpassing Dick and Bruce. When Barbara gives her the Batgirl mantle and shows her her old pictures all she says is "black, like mine!" (Barbara has to cry a bit about it). She helps Bruce and Damian learn how to use their unique wings to their own advantage.

Jason's wings were a complete neglected mess when Bruce first adopted him, taking almost a week to fix them. He had a bit more trouble getting the hang of Robin's flight. He'd always been a street rat, not used to relying on them. He hadn't even played the classic childhood games of seeing how far you can glide from the monkey bars (there were no playgrounds in park row). It's a matter of honor to him, trying to honor his predecessor's legacy. Bruce helps him out, since he had to figure out flight on his own as an adult (the game was too risky for his fake feathers). They bond about it, and Bruce almost cries when Jason manages to glide smoothly to him from a gargoyle.

As Red Hood, Jason has New World Vulture wings. He thinks it's quite ironic, since he never got to shed his fledgling feathers before dying. He'd blame the pit for it if he hadn't gotten to meet his biological mother. They're massive, I'm talking bigger than Batman's wingspan. When he tower's over Tim at Titan's Tower he practically shallows the hallway's light. His signature Red Hood mimicks the bird's red head.

Steph loves dying her wings in crazy colors (predominantly purple). When she inherits the Batgirl mantle she wears them black, just like Barbara's. For spoiler, she has big fluffy purple wings. She grows up to have gigantic African Grey wings. They're pretty smart birds, and she's a pretty smart girl, so she's quite happy with them. The dull grey color makes it easier for her to paint them whatever color she wants. She always teases Cass about having a bigger wingspan, even if she can't win against her in a race.

Tim got some practice while he stalked Batman, but Dick still makes it his job to train him. Bruce allowes it, too depressed to do it himself. Flight lesson's had been his and Jason's thing. He almost resents Tim for being better at it. Tim's wings are always a little messy since his parents are rarely around and he's too tiny to groom them by himself. He tries his best but he simply can not reach the back of them, and he's mortified by it. Alfred notices how upset the boy is at his untidy appearance and makes it his mission to sit him down once a week to fix them for him. At first Tim was horrified at the idea of relying in an unrelated adult to take care of his wings, but he can't argue with the results. It gives him even more confidence as Robin, finally looking the part.

He grows into his mother's gorgeous Magpie wings, too recognizible for Red Robin. Instead, he paints them black for his vigilante persona. He's the only one in the family to not wear his true wings when crime fighting. He thinks it's more practical that way, and the paint works kind of like their domino's adhesive (waterproof, only comes off with a special solvent). He takes really good care of his plumage, since it's the last connection to his mother. Anytime a rogue manages to pluck a handful of feather's off him he gets pretty upset, so he's gotten really good at maneuvering his wings around to dodge.

Duke has cockatoo wings, and his adult plumage comes sooner than most. Most kids shed from 16 to 18, but he already has them by 15. Leslie thinks it sometimes happen due to stress or lack of a stable environment. Both make sense for him, he hadn't really known peace since his parents got jokerized. He was loosing feather's all throughout his We Are Robin era, not caring about the disadvantage. His proper plumage didn't start growing until a month into living in the manor, having been practically bald by then.

As signal he uses his powers to make his wings light up with golden light. He jokes that he got the name because they look like the Bat-signal. When he's trying to be stealthy they turn into a shadow cloak, dancing around him. Everyone pretends really hard they're not jealous, except for Steph. She just asks him to light up her wings in different colors.

Damian has his father's wings, and he only agrees to disguise them for their secret identities' sake. He's extremely proud of his bat wings and not the slightest bit salty at Cain for sharing them too, thank you very much. His jealousy turns into bonding once she helps him learn how to take care and use his special wings. That was after Bruce came back from the time stream and found his son's leathery wings a peeled off mess. Dick helps him as much as he can, but much like Talia before him, he has no idea how to deal with them. To be fair, Bruce only found out by trial and error and his mother's old notes. Damian has to properly hidrate his wings and use oil to protect them.

People nickname him Bat-Robin for his wings, and he takes the name to heart. It makes him feel tied to his father even at those times were they don't understand each other. He's secretly a bit jealous of his brothers' gorgeous feather's (Dick's strikingly blue, Tim's shiny and iridescent, and Dukes incredibly soft pure white ones). Dick notices him staring and gifts him the prettiest one's he finds while grooming. Soon, Damian has a collection of random feathers from his family and friends.

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kneelingshadowsalome · 11 months ago

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Hey girlie, I'm such a big fan of yours!! I think your work is PHENOMENAL, like IM LITERALLY FOAMING AT THE MOUTH EVERYTIME YOU POST. So, the other day, me and my baby cousin were watching Frozen. And you know how there is this one big sweet guy that got mad because he got offended (I think his name is Oaken? You can look him up) and I IMMEDIATELY thought of König. Imagine him having his own little wooden shop( like that man from Frozen) up in the cold Alps, and one day, our dear Engel comes through the door, shivering from the big snow storm outside, saying that she's seeking shelter at least until the storm outside subsides. What would König do?

Omg this is just another cabin König to me! But with a pinch of silliness 🧚🏼‍♀️

Guy wanted some solitude after failing in life big time, he has no interest in socializing (or so he tells himself at night), he’s perfectly happy here in the middle of nowhere with no one to hold close his heart when there’s a blizzard outside…

Even hot chocolate tastes better alone, yeah, and ski trips are nice when you can set the pace yourself and admire the mountains with no one in sight. It’s not like he ever imagined a cute girl beside him on those warm sunny days when the snow looks like gelato and glitter, just the sort of thing he'd wrestle her into and then steal a kiss...

Nor does he miss the sound of soft, light-hearted giggle as he skis downhill to his cabin and heats up the sauna, wondering how lucky he is that there’s so few customers here and all of them are men. Otherwise he would have to be careful when he’s walking around in nothing but a towel–

The bell chimes, and someone comes in, of course it’s a woman, the first woman he’s seen in these parts or in his little shop ever. And here he is, sheened in sweat... Wearing only a thin white towel about his waist, the linen already wet and clinging to his thighs from the heat of the sauna.

There's an actual woman standing inside his humble tradepost, looking like a creature born from wind and snow, like a little Christmas tree decoration that has frosting all over it.

Cute little lips, a kissable mouth; that’s the first thing he notices on her, and he never thought of kissing Christmas decorations before… Men usually look like ice devils when they arrive inside his hut, but this little lady only looks like a winter night’s spirit, a little confused and lost. Her spirit eyes are glued to his junk before they rise to meet his softening stare, and who can blame her for staring when the first thing she sees upon coming in is a half naked man?

“Uh, welcome,” he manages to say while his cock gives a happy little jump under the towel as well, giving its own excited welcome to this woman.

She'd not dressed properly at all for a weather like this – why anyone would insist on wearing a dress in these temperatures is beyond him, but if he was her, uhm, brother or father, he would never have allowed her to go outside without proper winter gear.

Poor thing looks like she’s freezing to death, the bottom half of her dress coated in crystalline snow. If he had known that this lady was out there, trying to get somewhere warm, he would’ve come to her rescue at once…

“Um. Are you the shop owner…?” She asks delicately, still hugging herself from the attempt to stay warm.

“Yes. I mean, no... Uh… This is a trading post,” he stutters with his words, as if talking to women was somehow completely different than talking to men.

She furrows her brows and examines his body again, not at all interested in the items he has in stock. No woman has ever seen him in this state, no woman has ever looked at him like he’s the item here. She looks like she’s not sure if she wants to buy him or not.

“There’s also a sauna,” he says with a hint of pride in his voice, because he is damn well proud to have such luxury here. “Do you want to come…?”

“Do I want to come to the sauna…? With you?”

“No, I mean, you can go by yourself. It’s free of charge for the ladies.”

Such brazen discount he came up with just now, desperately wanting for her to stay. Besides, she needs the warmth after whatever adventure she’s been through. It would not be gallant to charge her for warming herself and getting that dress dry.

He wonders how she would look like in one of his woolen shirts. She would have to wear his clothes after the sauna, of course, he has no spare women’s clothing here. He will have to remember to be apologetic about it while presenting her with his clothes, secretly hoping they will catch her scent once she snuggles safely inside them and thanks him for everything he's done for her so far... She would probably look the cutest in his dark green knit, or the midnight blue one...

“Oh,” she says, slowly warming up to his offering. His cock is more than half hard by now, and he clasps his hands in front of it, trying to feign the movement as a casual posture shift although he’s anything but casual and relaxed.

And she’s not easy to trick; he might as well have pulled the towel away and shown her his cock in all its glory. She eyes his covered erection with a cat-like curiosity, a small little smile playing on her lips. Long lashes reveal a playful stare, slowly melting under the dim lamps of the cabin.

“I mean, of course you can come with me, if you want…”

Shit... That just came out of his mouth even if he tried to swallow the words. The inviting smile on her lips starts to quiver: she’s stifling a laugh, she’s giggling at him.

A flush rises on his cheeks, he can feel it, the erection now jumping against his palm, wildly and demandingly, as if wanting to join her in her mirth.

#this is so silly lmao #I'm just imagining him lounging at the sauna #maybe jerking himself off #languidly cause he's finally somewhat relaxed #he's trained himself like pavlov's dog that sauna time = fapping time #and now he's supposed to go to the sauna with this BABE and tell his erection that now is not the time???#impossible!

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