#because dammit i must get it perfect

[aka-tua-braindump]

The most annoying part of my AU fics is ALWAYS transcribing the scenes.

Times like these I wish I had two big screens so I don't have to toggle back and forth between tabs like a PLEBIAN.

(I just finished the scenes of Lucy leaving the vault and Norms demotion meeting)

Dropping new tag for my Norm x Reader fic because the title is too damn long.

Thou Shall Get sidetracked by bullshit everytime (even in a vault) will now be #TSGSBBE(EIAV) LOL

[covenofagatha]

The Psychology of Love (Part 14)

The Reward I

The first part of the reward

Word count: 6.9k

Warnings: none

A/N: so many warnings coming next chapter I PROMISE lmao

You passed. 

Relief washes through you like a flood and you slump back in your chair, the tension seeping out of your tense muscles. You actually did it. 

Even though you thought you would and you felt good about it, there’s still the surrealness of it all. 

You passed—and judging by the smile on Agatha’s face, you did well enough to warrant a reward. 

Did you get a perfect score though? 

She must understand the questioning look you give her because she glances down at your paper, meets your eyes again, and shakes her head. 

Dammit. 

Someone else gets up and walks over to turn in their test. Agatha takes it from him and sets it down on the table, not even sparing it a second look. You bite back a smirk. Her apathy for everyone else never fails to make you feel special. 

Agatha examines the room before sliding her phone out of her gray suit pants and onto the desk, swiping and tapping on it. She has an army green tank top under a cream colored blazer and if the reward is sex, you think you might ask if she can keep the outfit on. 

Your phone buzzes in the back pocket of your jean shorts. You raise an eyebrow at her when she looks up and she nods. You reach behind you and carefully pull your phone out. 

97. You missed one question. 

Your heart skips a beat—that’s good. Obviously not a perfect score, but that’s certainly a good way to start the year in what will be one of the hardest classes you’ve taken. 

A smirk plays on your lips as you type back. 

Good enough for a reward, Professor? 

Agatha’s hand—the memory of her spanking you yesterday runs rampant in your head—tosses back her hair before she responds. 

I’d say so. 

You bite your lip to stop the gasp from escaping you. Even though you knew what the deal was, actually getting it, earning it, sets your mind ablaze with thoughts. 

What will it actually be? 

The obvious answer is sex and you feel a viscous heat tear through you. What if she takes you back to her office, locks the door again, and bends you over her desk for a different reason?

Although, you don’t think you’d hate if there was more spanking involved, even if your ass is still raw and sore. 

“There’s about ten minutes left in class,” Agatha announces and even her gravelly tone makes you shiver. You can’t get the sounds of her touching herself, of her falling apart for you, out of your head. They echoed, putting you in a trance of desire, all yesterday, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything else. 

And yet you still passed. 

More people get up to turn in their test and you hear them walking out after. Hopefully no one notices or questions why you’re still here. You tap on your phone and text her again because you’re bored and excited.

Any hints as to what the reward will be? 

Agatha runs her tongue over her top row of teeth as she reads it and then winks at you. You swallow roughly to get moisture back into your dry throat, anticipation gnawing at your stomach while she types back. 

Delayed gratification, remember? 

Fuck. The coffee shop. When she set the terms for it, and you had asked what the reward would be again. To which she responded: How about—if you really want to know—I’ll tell you, but it won’t be as good of a reward as if you just waited.

You turn your phone off and sit back again, Agatha giving you a smug nod in approval. Whatever it is, you’ll find out soon enough, you think. 

The clock above the white board that you’re staring at seems to be moving even slower than normal. You watch as the second hand ticks around in a full circle again and again and again. You think you can feel Agatha’s eyes on you and she can surely tell just how desperate you are for this class to be done. 

She knows the only reason you stayed instead of leaving like your classmates is her. Even if you don’t get the reward right now, you still want to talk to her. 

Maybe she’ll give you a taste of what’s to come. 

With three minutes left, the last of your classmates get up and stand in single file to hand their tests in. One girl shoots you a look on her way out but you pretend not to notice it. You’ve built up the reputation for being a teacher’s pet in Agatha’s class, always answering her questions correctly, so you hope it’s not entirely unbelievable that you’d stay back to see how you did. 

And then there’s just you and Agatha in the room. 

The air grows thin. 

She picks up the stack of exams and taps them neatly on the desk before folding them into her bag. “Which way does the nerve impulse run from nerve to nerve?” 

Fuck. Your brain races, trying to think of what you answered. Of course that’s the one multiple choice you got wrong—that was the one thing you could never remember. “Dendrite to axon?” you guess and Agatha shakes her head solemnly. 

“Axon to dendrite,” she says and you purse your lips in a frown. To come so close to a perfect score only for you to mess up on the one thing you had continuously messed up on. 

Sometimes you never learn. 

Except when it comes to Agatha. She has ways of teaching you that make the lesson stick. 

Agatha walks over and pauses in front of your desk. You shove your pen into your tote bag and stand up, heart pounding. She looks you up and down, takes in your jean shorts and baby blue tank top, and smirks. 

“How do you feel about the beach?” she asks and it throws you for a loop. Is she just wondering? Is she going to tie it back to some psychological thing?

“Um, I like it.” It sounds more like a question than an answer and Agatha laughs. 

She tucks a piece of hair behind her ears, seeming uncharacteristically nervous. “Well, I have a condo down at Long Beach Island. It’s about two hours away and I was thinking that, as your reward, we could go there for the weekend. You know, to get away.” 

A warm feeling spreads through your chest and you can’t control the smile on your face. You think about walking hand-in-hand with her down the beach, salty kisses in the ocean, laying out in the sun together. 

And the best part is, you won’t have to worry about anyone seeing you.

Is that why she’s doing it? So the two of you can just be for a few days without worrying about getting caught? 

She won’t be your professor and you won’t be her student. At least for the weekend.

“That sounds perfect,” you rasp, emotion tugging at your stomach. “Oh—I have a class at noon.” 

Agatha nods. “I’m not done for the day either. I have to teach until three so I can pick you up after? Give you some time to pack?” 

“Don’t you have to pack?” 

She smiles. “Oh, hon, I’ve been ready to go since last night. I knew you’d do well, especially after my little lesson from yesterday. Hopefully we don't need any more of those.” 

Your cheeks heat up and you duck your head for a second to mutter, “I wouldn’t mind.” 

Agatha’s eyes are dark when you look back up at her. She glances at the door to make sure no one is walking by and then leans in to give you a slow, drawn out kiss. Her lips linger but she pulls back too quickly because of the risk. Black Opium swirls around you and intoxicates you. 

“Good to know,” she hums in a low voice. “I’ll see you later, okay?” 

“Okay,” you whisper and she gives you one last crooked smile before walking out of the room. 

It’s really happening. 

——

Wanda is already back and lounging in her bed when you walk into your dorm room after your second class of the day and then it hits you that you’re going to have to come up with an excuse as to where you’re going. 

Because there’s something about telling her that your professor is taking you to her beach condo to fuck you that doesn’t seem like it would go over well. 

“Hey,” you say and Wanda instantly looks suspicious. You usually come into the room already complaining or telling her something. “I’m going home this weekend. It’s like super last minute, my mom just bought the plane ticket for me.” 

Wanda sits up, a frown on her face. “Is everything okay? Do you need a ride to the airport?” 

You blink at her, not anticipating this many questions. “Um, yeah, everything’s fine, they just wanted me to come home. I’ll Uber or something, so you don’t have to worry.” 

“When are you coming back?” she asks. 

That’s also something you don’t know yet. But you and Agatha both have to be back Monday morning for her class, so you can make a good guess. “Sunday afternoon. I’ll text you before I leave.” The flight home and the drive to Agatha’s condo is about the same time, so it won’t be hard to time that right.

She hums something else while you turn to your closet. Hopefully Wanda doesn’t see the multiple pairs of lingerie you throw into the duffel bag you pull out from underneath your bed, or the bikinis, or the short dresses. You’re just glad that you actually brought swimsuits from home on the off-chance that you ended up going to the beach. You pack your toiletry bag and throw the travel-sized shampoo, conditioner, and soap into it, as well as the high heeled bottle of Good Girl. 

You roll the vial of Black Opium over your hand, chewing on your lip. Then you stow it back in your drawer—Agatha will be with you the whole time; you’ll get your fair share of it. 

Do you need to bring towels? Sunscreen? A beach bag? 

Grabbing your tote bag, you take out your notebooks and pencils but keep your laptop in, just in case. You can take it out and leave it at the condo when you go to the beach. You grab one of your shower towels and stuff it in with your computer and pack your charger cords. 

“You seem excited,” Wanda remarks, watching you anxiously pacing back and forth in the small space between your beds. 

“I am,” you reply absentmindedly, but you’re a little concerned that you’re forgetting something. 

But if you do, you’re sure Agatha will either have it or take you to the store to get it. It’s not like you’re going to be completely stranded. 

There’s still something that seems so surreal about this weekend trip with your professor. 

What does it actually mean for you?

And what happens when you get back from the beach on Sunday? Will things be the same if—and hopefully when—you consummate the relationship? If it ends badly before the end of the semester, will she take it out on your grade and your plan for the future?

You can’t think like that. Agatha is too professional to do that, and you’re not planning on fucking anything up with her, so she’d have no reason to. 

In order to get your mind off the slight doubts creeping in, you busy yourself with changing your clothes. You’re not exactly sure what the evening has in store, but you want to look nice for her. 

So you find your deep purple lacy bra, buried beneath your regular undergarments, and the matching pair of underwear. You have a plain white dress that you pick out before heading to the bathroom to change since Wanda is still in your room. 

The bra and underwear can slightly be seen through the dress if you squint hard enough—which you hope Agatha does—and you ruffle your hair to make it slightly messy and seductive.

Your phone says that it’s only one-thirty. 

You go back to your room, resigned to doing homework for next week for the next hour and a half while you wait for Agatha. At least you won’t have to do anything this weekend then. 

The next two and a half days belong to her. 

——

I’m outside. 

Agatha’s text springs you into motion and you barely remember to say goodbye to Wanda before you’re out the door with your duffel bag and tote bag. 

It takes you a moment to find her car because she parked around the corner so as not to be as obvious to all the undergrads walking to and from the dorm building. 

You open the back door of her car to drop your stuff in and she seems a little breathless when she looks over her shoulder to smile at you. 

“Hi,” you say when you slide into the passenger seat. You buckle your seatbelt. Agatha’s still wearing the same outfit from earlier, except she’s taken off the blazer so she’s just in the green tank top and gray pants. 

“Hey,” she says and clicks on her phone, pulling up the directions. It’s a two hour and seven minute drive. Agatha glances at you. “Ready?” 

You nod and your heart beats faster. “Ready.” 

She puts the car into drive and pulls onto the main road, turning up the music to a song you’ve never heard before. 

Before you can make a quip about her age, she looks over and then back at the road. “So, how was the test?” 

“You mean, other than me getting one question wrong?” you joke and Agatha snorts. “I thought it was good. Definitely not as bad as I thought it would be.” 

She smirks. “I’m sure some of your classmates would disagree. You thought it was good because you actually studied.” 

“Well, I’m sure if they had as good of an incentive as I did, they would’ve been more inclined to try,” you say and Agatha snickers. 

“You’ll have to excuse me if I’m not going to fuck all my students for doing well,” she retorts and then tilts her head to wink at you. “That’s just a you thing.” Your body flushes with heat and you give her a shaky smile. 

A comfortable silence lapses over you and you finally recognize some of the songs that play on the radio so you start to sing them under your breath while you look out the window. 

“So, you like the beach?” Agatha prompts about forty-five minutes into the drive. 

“Yeah,” you say and turn toward her, pulling your right leg up and resting it against the door. “I’ve lived in Florida pretty much my whole life so my family and I used to go to the beach a lot. I still go with friends sometimes when I’m back. It’s just always been a place to relax.” 

She nods wistfully. “I know what you mean. So, Florida to New Jersey. That’s quite a move.” 

“Just needed a change,” you say quietly. You needed a break from your family and you always wanted to live somewhere where it got cold because the Florida heat could be brutal. And like you told her already, you fell in love with Westview when you toured. “I’m glad I did it. I really like it here.” 

Plus you’re not sure you’d be on a weekend getaway with your professor anywhere else. 

Even if you hadn’t gotten a good education and you hadn’t met your two best friends, Agatha alone might have made it worth it. 

Which means that she is absolutely going to ruin you. 

And you might just let her. 

——

You end up dozing off for about the last thirty minutes of the ride, after you and Agatha talked a bit more about Florida and she told you that she’s from Massachusetts. She didn’t say much more about that, but you hope that one day, she’ll open up to you. 

The GPS announces that you have reached your destination and you stir, rubbing your eyes and looking out the window. 

“Hey, honey,” Agatha says as she turns into the parking lot of a four story condominium, white with blue trim. You mumble something in response and you can smell the ocean already. Your heart leaps and you suddenly feel wide awake. 

You’re really here. 

With your professor. 

It might take you all weekend for that to sink in. 

She gets out of the car and you follow, grabbing your duffel and tote bags from the backseat, before trailing her up toward the building. Instead of going into the lobby, she turns to the right and leads you into an elevator. It opens immediately and she presses the button for the third floor. 

“This is a nice place,” you say, breaking the silence. 

Agatha hums in agreement. “It’s good when you want to get away.” 

You smirk teasingly. “Do you bring all your students here?” 

Ding! 

The doors to the elevator roll open and Agatha steps off and goes to the left. There’s a view of the parking lot over the balcony as you amble down the walkway. 

She pauses in front of the door at the end, fumbling with her keys, and gives you a pointed look. “Only the ones I plan on fucking,” she says with a wink and your entire body burns. 

And, if she was telling the truth outside after the mixer and earlier in the car, that’s only you. It shouldn’t mean that much to you, but really, it’s everything. 

Agatha unlocks the door and pushes it open. You step into a hallway and there’s a door right on your right. 

“That’s the guest room,” she says and puts her hand on your back to move you along. Your clit pulses—you won’t be using the guest room. 

She guides you into the living room. The walls are painted a light gray with a navy accent wall which pairs well with the mahogany hardwood floors. There’s a seafoam blue couch with a matching chair across from a long flat screen television with a white wooden coffee table on top of a gray and blue rug. More psychology books fill up the shelves in the chestnut wood entertainment center. There’s a hallway off to the right, leading to a closed door.

The blinds are drawn open on the sliding glass doors that take up a whole wall, leading to a decently sized balcony. You can see the beach and the clear water and the people running around in the sand and you can’t wait to be down there with her. 

To your left is the open kitchen with brown cabinets and white countertops and the island houses three bar stools on the side across from the sink. There’s a full, small wine rack on the counter next to the stainless steel fridge. 

The one thing you notice is that there’s not a lot of pictures on the walls. One or two of Agatha with unknown people, but no family photos or anything. There’s a painting of a lighthouse in the night on the wall by the breakfast table tucked in the corner, but it seems rather bare. 

“I like it,” you say, turning back to her, to find her eyes, with a strange look in them, already on you. Is she seeing how well you fit here? 

But then she smiles. “Want to see the bedroom?” 

You nod eagerly and she leads you down the hallway and opens the door at the end. There’s a jolt inside you as you take it in—the white duvet with a gray pattern on the queen-sized bed, the matching gray nightstands with blue bedside lamps on them, the tall dark dresser across from the bed, the plush cream carpet, the mirrored closet doors. French doors lead out to the balcony as well and you have another view of the beach from here.

You sneak a peek of the bathroom and see a double vanity with marble countertops, gold-colored faucets, and a large, stand-up shower with a neat tile backsplash in it. 

“Wow,” you breathe and set down your bags on the floor. Agatha deposits hers onto the bed and pulls out things from her bag while you keep looking around.

This. This is where it’s going to happen, where you’ll finally get your first taste and feel of your professor. 

And she’ll get hers too. 

“I’m going to change quickly and then we should head to dinner, okay? It’s not too far but I made a reservation,” Agatha tells you and you’ve barely agreed before she shuts herself into the bathroom. 

Not that you would have minded if she had changed out here. 

She comes out about five minutes later, wearing a white-cropped bustier top with balloon sleeves, one of which has slipped off her shoulder and her bare skin makes you grow warm. Her cleavage is also on full display and it’s really hard to keep your eyes from straying. She has black, high-waisted pants that hug her curves in a way that almost makes you sweat and it’s all tied together with a thick black belt and low heels.

Dangling gold earrings hang from her earlobes and her hair frames her face. You can smell the reapplication of Black Opium and your mouth waters. 

“Do I need to change?” you ask, comparing your outfit to hers in the closet mirror. Your white dress, albeit plain, pairs well with her clothes.

Agatha’s eyes trace over your body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You almost shiver under her scrupulous stare. “I think this is perfect. Plus,” her voice drops lower, “I can see what you have underneath.” 

You take a ragged breath and bite your lip. “Do you like it?” 

She takes a step closer to you, leaving only a few inches between you, and smirks. “Yes…but I’ll like it even better when it’s on my floor.” 

It’s completely unfair for her to say right now, right before you have to leave, and Agatha knows it. 

Which is probably why she said it. 

“Agatha,” you whisper, begging silently to skip dinner and stay in. She pulls back and tuts. 

“We better get going, honey.” She taps your chin and spins on her heel, walking out into the living room and swiping her keys off the countertop. She throws a glance at you over her shoulder on the way to the door. “You’re going to need your energy.” 

So you reluctantly follow her, feeling the wetness that’s pooled in your underwear with each step you take. 

It’s not a very long walk at all, like she said. It’s maybe half a mile away before she points at a building and makes a beeline toward it. You’ve walked by an ice cream parlor and a pizza place and a surf shop, all while being able to see the beach. 

You don’t ever want to leave. 

The restaurant looks spacious and elegant on the outside and a small bridge over a coy pond leads up to the entrance. The sun is setting slowly, making the daylight muted, but it does nothing to make Agatha look less beautiful. 

She gives you a small smile when she sees that you’re looking at her on the way over the bridge and then she opens the door for you. 

Inside, it’s dim and smells good. Through the back, you can see windows opening up to the ocean and you really hope that you’re sitting close to one. Bottles of wine are stacked behind the host table and you follow Agatha up to it. 

“Reservation for Harkness,” she says and the hostess standing there checks the list and nods. 

She grabs two black menu books and smiles sweetly at you both. “Right this way.” 

You’re led to a table for two right on the windows in the back with a small lamp at the end of it. Agatha and you settle into the chairs while the hostess hands you the menus. “Your server will be with you shortly,” she says and you both give a quick thank you. 

The menu is rather daunting when you first open it with the options of seafood, steak, pasta, and combos. You peer at Agatha, but she already looks like she knows what she wants. 

“How do you feel about oysters for an appetizer?” she asks, meeting your eyes. 

“Oh—I’ve actually never had them,” you say, “but I’ll try them. What are you getting to eat?” 

Agatha scrunches her nose and takes another look at the menu. “There’s the seafood combo with two lobster tails, grilled shrimp, and scallops. Would you want to split that?” 

You locate it on the menu and scan the description. “Yeah, that looks really good.” 

The waitress comes over right after you decide that and Agatha smoothly orders two glasses of white wine, the oysters, and the combo, all without you having to say a thing.

It has an effect on you, as much as you hate to admit it, watching her take control so easily like that. Like she knows exactly what you want, and she’s going to make sure you get it. 

The waitress writes it all down and tells you that she’ll be back soon before taking the menus. There’s a charged air between you and Agatha now, the anticipation of what’s to come hopefully after dinner hanging over the table. 

“So, how long have you had the condo?” you ask, because if you don’t make small talk right now, the temptation to drag her to the bathroom might get too great. 

Agatha brushes back a strand of her over her shoulder. “About seven years now, I think. I’ve always loved coming here.” There’s a softness in her eyes, one you’ve only seen a few times, and you think this must be her escape. 

And she’s sharing that with you right now. You don’t even know how to put what that means into words but something tells you that she doesn’t need you to. 

The waitress sets down two glasses of wine on the table. “I’ll be right back with the oysters.” 

“That was fast,” you remark, reaching over to pick up your glass. Agatha does the same and without speaking, you cling them together in a toast. 

A toast to you for doing well on the test? 

A toast to whatever is between you? 

Both, you think, are applicable and necessary here. 

The wine is sweet and refreshing on your tongue with hints of citrus and tropical fruit. There’s a floral undertone that makes you hum. 

Agatha sets her glass down. “What do you think?” 

“It’s good,” you say. “I don’t usually drink wine, except when I’m with you, I guess. You’re just a bad influence on me, Professor.”

She looks all too pleased with herself for that. “Oh, am I?” Her eyes twinkle when you nod emphatically. 

“Yesterday, you bent me over your desk and spanked me and then touched yourself while you made me kneel in a corner. I’ve never done anything like that before.” 

Agatha chuckles and takes another sip of her wine. “Well, I’m glad I could be the first. Didn’t seem like you minded that much.” 

You can’t even pretend to be embarrassed, especially because you know she likes you to use your words. “If that was a punishment, I can’t wait to see what happens when I’m good.” 

“Oh, honey,” she says sweetly, a dark glint in her eyes, “you’re going to find out soon. And I hope it’s enough to show you why you should always be my good girl.” Your cheeks flush and you nod and take a big gulp of wine. She tracks the movement of your tongue as it darts out to lick your lips. There’s a hunger in her gaze, one that you’re sure is reflected back in your own. 

“And here we are,” your waitress says, appearing almost out of nowhere, to set a large silver bowl down in the middle of the table. It’s full of ice with six oyster shells sitting on top and forming a circle around three slices of lemon and a bowl of cocktail sauce. Two tiny forks rest on the outside of the circle. “Do you need anything else?” 

Agatha looks up at her and shakes her head. The waitress smiles and walks away. 

“So, how do I—?” you ask and Agatha chuckles. 

She picks up a lemon and you copy her. “First,” she explains, “a few drops of lemon.” She squeezes the fruit on the oyster closest to her and you do the same. Then she sets it down and picks up the fork. “Then you want to loosen the oyster from its shell.” Agatha does it easily and gracefully while it’s much more of a struggle for you. “And then, just let it slide into your mouth.” 

You watch, transfixed, as she lifts the shell to her lips, tilts it, and lets the oyster slip right in. She chews it, closing her eyes and humming deeply, and then swallows it. 

It’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen. 

Agatha nods at you and you raise the shell to your own lips with a shaky hand. 

“Let me help you,” she husks and you just stare at her blankly, not sure what she means, until she reaches across the table to take it from you. Her fingers brush against yours, sending sparks through your veins.

And then she holds it up. 

“Just open your lips,” she says and you obey, slightly parting them, never breaking eye contact. 

The waves crash onto the shore outside the window, seagulls fly by, people keep moving in the restaurant, and yet everything seems to have stopped for you. 

Agatha tilts the shell and the oyster slides into your mouth, just like she said to. It’s salty and briny and somehow slightly sweet, with a silky texture. 

“Good girl,” she hums as she sets the shell down back on the bowl and your cheeks grow warm again. “Now swallow.” 

Your throat bobs and you feel exposed in the way she’s staring at you, like she’s seeing right through you. There’s a gleam in her eyes and not for the first time, you can’t wait to be done with dinner. 

But she’s not done yet—she picks up her cloth napkin and dabs at your mouth with it. It’s hard to breathe and you wonder if anyone is looking over at you right now. 

It doesn’t matter if they are though, because here, it’s just you and Agatha, not student and professor. 

No one knows who you are and there’s a bliss in that anonymity. 

Your waitress comes back, interrupting the moment once again, and sets down a large plate with two lobster tails, a line of shrimp, and a pile of scallops, and then gives you both a smaller plate to split it. She asks if you need anything else and Agatha once again shakes her head. 

When you take your first bite of the lobster, you don’t even realize that you’ve let out a quiet moan. 

But Agatha hears it—her head shoots up, pupils blown wide, and a faint pink stains her cheeks. Just her being this affected from one sound has heat tearing through you and you shift in your seat to attempt to relieve some pressure on your clit. 

“First your seat in the library and now this one?” she teases, but there’s an underlying thickness in her voice. 

You choke on the bit of lobster that you’re eating and playfully roll your eyes. “Are you ever going to let me forget that?” 

She leans in, a smirk on her lips. “Never.” 

“Well then,” you start, feeling emboldened although you probably shouldn’t, “I guess you might like to know that the first time I texted you?” She raises an eyebrow, but nods. “I had just touched myself thinking about you for the first time.” 

Agatha’s eyes flash and her fork almost slips out of her fingers. “Oh, really?” You smile smugly at catching her off guard but it’s only a matter of time until she recovers. “And how long after you did that did you text me?” 

You bite your lip and slowly push your fork into another piece of lobster. “My fingers were still wet,” you tell her innocently and she groans. It makes your face flush because you recognize the sound—it’s the same sound she makes when she’s touching herself. 

“Hurry up and eat,” she says roughly and you giggle. 

It doesn’t take very long for you to finish the rest of your lobster tails and Agatha moves onto the scallops while you divide the shrimp into halves. 

She practically has to flag your waitress down when you’re done with everything so she can get the bill. She hands the waitress her credit card without even looking at the total and you chew on your lip anxiously because you’re guessing it’s a lot. 

But it’s as if Agatha knows what you’re thinking and as she’s signing her name on the check, she looks up and winks before saying, “Don’t worry about it, hon,” and it makes you feel a little better. 

You decide that you’ll buy her breakfast tomorrow if you go out, or at least ice cream.

“Are you ready?” Agatha asks, throwing down the pen. Ready to leave? Ready to go back? Ready for whatever lies ahead back at her condo? 

“Yes,” you breathe, to all of it. 

She smiles and pushes back her chair and you follow in suit. The hostess calls after you on the way out and tells you to have a good night. 

Agatha meets your eyes and murmurs, “I plan to,” just for you to hear. It sends tingles down your spine, electricity racing through your veins.

It’s dark outside now, just the last rays from the sun cutting through the clouds, and you ask Agatha if you can take the boardwalk on the way back. She agrees and her eyes soften at the big smile on your face before leading you to the other side of the restaurant, onto the wooden pathway elevated in the sand. 

The moonlight glints off the ocean and the cool breeze rustles your hair and Agatha’s. Her skin looks even paler but her blue eyes are bright as they meet yours. There’s music playing from somewhere, most likely from one of the restaurants nearby, but there’s no one else around. 

It may as well just be the two of you on the planet right now. 

The back of her hand brushes against the back of yours, the first time maybe by accident, but the second time feels more purposeful. There’s no words that can fill the silence, no words that can say more than the touch of her skin against yours. 

The waves crash on the shore with a rhythm and a lone seagull squawks. The air is tinged with the perfect amount of saltiness. You’re both walking slow even though you know what awaits you at the condo. 

But right now, soaking in this moment, where it’s just the two of you and you can be whoever you want to be, is more important.

And then you get the urge to prolong it. You long to feel the sand under your feet and the water on your skin so you stop. 

Agatha stops too and looks at you but you’re too busy staring at the ocean. It calls to you and you kick off your sandals before you start walking toward it, as if in a trance. 

You hear footsteps in the sand after you and know that Agatha is following you. 

And then you break into a run. You can’t remember the last time you ever felt so free, like you might float away right now. 

Water laps at your feet and you keep going, splashing as you step further into the ocean until you’re in knee-deep. You let out a laugh and it sounds so giddy that it almost surprises you. You’re here, with Agatha, with your professor who actually wants you. 

Agatha, who follows you right into the ocean, never mind that she’s wearing pants and they’re now soaked. You keep wading backwards until the hem of your dress is wet and she follows you, a smirk on her face. 

The waves are stronger out here and you dig your feet into the sand to stay rooted. You flick water at Agatha, who’s only a few feet away from you now, and she lets out a mock gasp. 

The next thing you know, you’re thrown forward by a wave, almost knocked completely underwater, but steady arms catch you and set you upright. 

You look up, your body pressed against hers, and bite your lip. You can smell the seafood and white wine on her breath and the ocean and Black Opium on her skin, and it’s a dizzying array of scents. 

Her arms encircle you, holding onto your waist, and she leans in to kiss you slowly. It’s salty and addicting and she walks you backwards in the direction of the shore to where the waves are just gently rocking you back and forth, her mouth never leaving yours. 

She sighs when you wrap your arms around her neck to pull her even closer and her tongue slides into your mouth, sensually stroking against yours. You moan and she swallows it and then Agatha’s left hand moves to your waist. 

The fire inside you burns in contrast to the cold water and the wind and you cling to her tighter. 

Agatha sucks on your tongue and then nips at your bottom lip and then claims your mouth with hers, her kisses becoming hungry and possessive. 

Her teeth click against yours and you’re both panting into each other’s open mouths, trying to get more, more, more because you can’t get enough. Her neck is hot against your hands and she groans when you lightly tug on her hair. 

“Fuck, hon,” she breathes and you moan in agreement, “you’re so—” She cuts herself off, so you don’t know what she meant to say. 

But her tongue tangles with yours and it shoves all thoughts from your mind. Your body is overheating and your head is spinning and you hold onto Agatha like she’s your anchor—maybe she is. 

Her left hand slides to your stomach and then down and you gasp when you feel her fingertips against your thigh. The sound of the waves and the blood pumping in your ears blurs and becomes one and the same and you think you might be becoming part of the sea itself. 

Maybe Agatha is the ocean, powerful and mysterious and uncharted. Will she swallow you whole and leave you drowning? 

Or will you learn to swim?

You kiss her back harder, feeling her moan of surprise reverberate down your throat. Her hands grab at you, claw at you like she needs you closer, like you aren’t already pressed against her body tightly. 

“Please,” you rasp again, always begging for more. 

This time, Agatha obliges. 

Her hand drags up your thigh and you inhale at the tugging sensation you feel in your gut. She is so close to your cunt and you wonder if she can feel the heat radiating from it in the water. 

“You’re—” she kisses you like she can’t help herself, “so—” she kisses you again through heavy breaths, “desperate for me, aren’t you?” 

She knows, of course she knows because you’ve proved it time and time again, but she needs to hear you say it. 

“Yes,” you sigh into her mouth and her breath hitches, “but I think you’re just as desperate for me, too.” 

Agatha gasps, a confession of her own, and her hand cups your covered cunt under the water and you buck your hips, letting out a quiet moan. Your mind goes blank. She presses hard and your clit throbs and you pull away from her mouth to sink your teeth into your bottom lip. 

“Agatha, please,” you implore, meeting her eyes with your own. Her pupils are swallowing up the blue and the moonlight reflects off them. She could touch you right now, she could fuck you right here in the ocean, and it would be everything you’d need. 

But she withdraws her hand, a smirk slowly gracing her lips, and she steps back, causing your grip around her neck to loosen. You let go, dumbfounded, as she stops touching you completely. 

“What—no, please—I—” you stammer and she grabs your wrist and starts leading you to shore. “Why not? Where are we going?” 

It’s a stupid question, but you’ve lost the ability to think straight. Your heart beats in your throat and your clit and echoes through your whole body. Her fingers are warm against your skin and it’s all you can focus on. 

Agatha looks back over her shoulder at you, the desire on her pale face clear in the glow of the moon. “We’re going back to my condo so I can give you the other part of your reward, honey,” she tells you, voice thick with heat. 

Oh. 

Part Fifteen

Taglist:@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1 @500daysofmarissa @filmedbyharkness @autbot @claramelooo @dandelions4us @agathaallalongg @jujuu23 @21cannibal @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @jeridandridge @hannibalcanniballz @chloeelou02x @hapuchika @xblinkx2 @xanthreee @tobeawriter98@warpdrive-witch

[edenspoem]

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. ♡

summary: ellie simply cannot dance the odette variation perfectly without you spotting her. she calls you in, and swans begin to sing.

content: ballerina!ellie, smut, mdni, dom!reader, white swan and black swan dynamic, fingering(e!rec), slight choking, slight degradation, semi-public sex, presence of risk, drabble length, had to get something of this au out before i went psycho. think of this as series teaser, almost. barely, somewhat proofread. wc: 1.7k

Ellie works against her body, and time works against her.

“Dammit—I can't get it right.”

It is February: the unfurling of the year, and she is Odette this season. The white swan had incarnated, plucking only the most graceful, most sedulous ballerina from the flock. She begins to believe herself after all the blood, sweat, and tears produced in anticipation, and training. Nothing is graceful about this loathing season, though, and save for the culmination of when she was cast her sorrowful-swan, ivory feathers, this is a tribulation that eats her down to the sore ligaments of herself. Perfection is eroding.

She tries and she fumbles. “Fuck!”

Usually, this is no issue. Ellie is inherently so given to pirouettes; the group instructor is unapologetic about that praise. But their momentum overwhelms their beauty—her instructor also claims. She must find a balance, within, and without thinking too hard.

So she ends up calling you in to think for her.

The black swan.

Tutoring, of a sort. “You have the wings of a vulture,” you broach, pacing forth and from the space behind. You only brace the front when you spot an incorrection. “Loosen up.”

She is nervous to have her heartbeat in your ears. You have this touch nobody else can give, and yet it is for a reason she wishes not; correction, not love. However, she just might love it regardless. Touchings of the arms that mean nothing to you, and many things to her. You tap her shoulder, and the muscles noticeably stiffen. With a gulp, the chafing organ inside her is a solitary song she hopes you cannot sense the thrumming of.

Tired hands fall to her thighs in a slap. You watch her lips form a question in the mirror. “Can't you just show me?” She is adamant with it. Adamant with everything, if you recall each sentence you overheard from her private sessions. Somethings of malediction, most a pained curse.

Those bruises and bumps reflect that.

“Your grace should come from within, Swan Queen.” Although an aphorism most would groan at and nullify, it is almost vital to every professional dancer. Even you nourish yourself with the saying, and you are at the top. “Just as Pavlovich would say, right?” Ellie has technique. In fact, she has a grasp on it so violent—so obsessive, not a single other picture-perfect girl in that room on the day of Swan Lake casting could bear it.

Except you.

She puffs her cheeks into apples, “Fuck,” and mumbles under her breath. This day would leave a sprain.

Nuturing her inelegance. You think of it like this, and you treat it as such. When your palms introduce two gentle pressures upon her ribcage from behind, she fears you can hear it. Her heart; its rage. She overthinks the gesture and places her hands over yours on accident.

You hear air snag in her throat. Feel her fill.

“Feel my hands?” You motion with your thumbs, rubbing them back and forth under hers.

Ellie drops her head, and a strand of auburn slips. “Yeah.” Her voice is a feather. It writhes into the abditory of her chest.

She hates catching your eyes in the mirror. Especially right now.

Because she so graciously has her hands on yours, you turn your palms and basket the tense, fidgeting things in them. Raising them heavenward as a halo. “You have to let go up here. Don't overthink it.” Your fingers downpour all around her, until they return to her palpating ribcage. “Focus on your core.”

Fuck, what has she done? She invited you in here with the strict notion that you could implement her perfection. Nothing more, nothing less. Pavlovich would replace you as her tutor if the sun shone with the littlest deviation; you don't have to be here. But you are here, and she is borderline bleeding from her precious lips trying to distract herself from the warmth crawling out below. The visceral image of her leotard stained with a wet patch.

She feels like a loser.

She does anything but let go. “Like this?” It is so achingly obvious, the sleek of her juices making it uncomfortable to lift her leg.

“No,” you huff in a heavy increment, drawing away. Ellie's impliable arms were all over the place—and not in the graceful, poised manner of a swan. The poise she despairingly needs. “You can't be this nervous on stage. Someone psych you out or something?”

She descends from pointe. This girl is a rose-red silhouette of confusion, and crackling. “Um, not really.” But she is fucking easy to read.

All she needed was your hands again.

Handling her waist, her hips. “Did you lock the door?” Eating her mouth which gushes with the same, quiet concerns. You close it with yours.

“Mhm.” Ellie is feeding on your hums: fitting her lips in the cleft of yours, opening and closing, nodding and accepting, eager to pick from your fruit again. Docile creature in caging limbs. She is sat softly in your lap, doing all this like she cannot get enough of you, regardless if you are endless.

Her skin is peeking quietly from her neckline. Shining, shifting over her collarbones.

Post-practice glow.

She tries to relieve the throes of wanting immediately. This is not the same Ellie you tutored minutes ago; someone else crawled inside of her, made a corruptive influence. “Fuckin' soaked down there,” she hints with pacing breath, flexing her pelvis up. “Gonna buy me new ones?” She mentions about her tights. Those tights that always make her toned legs look woodland-born; spry as deer, long boughs laden with white bloomage.

You chuckle. “Oh, cause it's my fault?” But your hands push for that hot gap beneath, peel her leotard aside, and she goes white-eyed. Nudging to find the same kisses.

Opening her mouth opens her heart to you.

Then, her legs.

Full-walled mirrors reflect before her. Ellie goes insane watching the muscles of your fingers work her in numbing circles over the wet patch of her tights, and sometimes, insane from the stare you give while doing it. The friction is like molasses, but it is all she needs. God, she is pulsing on you. Whining on you. Does she come to rehearsals horny?

It certainly coheres.

Warming up next to each other on the barre, beholding one another during auditions, her cascading stares when you stretch, creeping softly up your legs. Wearing sheer skirts so wispy, so mini: you get it. Those sculpting shorts she wears—you're not even going to lie—prove the pleasure is visual. It creates a vertigo of pounding, indecent thoughts.

You folded them so delicately down her lovely hips. Now they lay stranded somewhere in the room, but fuck—does your skin raise thinking about her ass flexing in them before. Picture-perfect, palmful of an ass.

Has she touched herself to you?

She still avoids your eyes when you pick up your speed. “Fuckin' slut, aren't you?” Watching what was being done to her was all the more invigorating, hoping she would ruin her panties enough and swallow up your motions. Take you in closer.

She tells you she does like it. Well, whimpers, at least, and humps your river-paced fingers.

Then, she plucks at the band of her tights with her thumb, stretching it over the knuckle. You see where your finger pins it down.

Shadows brush against the frosted door. Soothing yourselves too comfortably into primal abandon and taking every tight piece of clothing off would maturate a scandal. Risks are high; you lead her wrist back.

Dopey giggles form her smile. “Why not?”

You affirm. “You know why.”

But no secretion of articulation was coming from her lips, only confirming sounds and thigh contractions when you grope and grab her thumping crotch. It was as though she was pent-up. Panting often out of her mouth, and glancing into the hoods of her eyes with a short leaning motion—you think she is. Pent-up, religiously for you. Little ligaments in her shiver with every little tug, barely moving anything under the layers, but she loves it.

She spent deadlight mornings dreaming that her bed beheld hers and your legs interlocked, cunts rubbing each other into humiliating moans and reeking of sex days afterward in the studio. It aches that she cannot see her bare pussy, and you, inside her. She thinks she might be fucking glistening under there. How exciting: what would it feel like if you ripped the fabric and stuffed her, displayed and degraded her? Your glare already does, Odile.

She needs to take you home. She needs the veiling between you and her so eroded, it rewrites the all-encompassing, eternal-age ballet right there on the grand stage. Makes the audience mull in their sleep. “Put your hands around my neck,” she beckons, inviting more hands on her.

“Yeah?”

She gulps. “Uh-huh.”

They fill the pale emptiness. After that, she finds herself trying to fuck herself more desperately on your fingers: she rides the length of them, using what is softened of her panties to slide up her folds. The pressure indescribable. She almost forgets that you are her competition; rivals shouldn't make her come this hard.

But, it's you. You lull the filthiness out of her.

When your fingers dig in the right spot, she pierces through her lower lip. “Yes, baby—fuck!” She jolts with a whimper. The sides of your fingers are scratched by the synthetic material of her thighs, her legs impulsing, eyes pinching, and her neck stringing up in your grasp. It is a chasm full of splutters. “That's it—right there, right there. Fuck, don't stop, please don't fuckin' stop.”

You palm her through it, fingers pouring out through the heart of her thighs in the mirror. And something else. Something that sticks her to her shame: orgasm-sopping panties she may replace, and replace twice. There is subtle moisture on your fingertips.

No way she goes home and sleeps soundlessly without flicking her pussy for you. In devotion of what you could not. She feens to be properly played with.

Ellie lies breathless in your lap, her skin sweating into yours. The scene is a silent basking until she breaks it:

“Should we continue this tomorrow?”

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 12: The One Where We Start Laying the Yellow Brick Road to Italy

I realized the other day that, even though I like to bounce around from place to place in the Lukola timeline, I probably needed to start tightening things up on the ship if I ever wanted to get to the end of the story. And, yes, dammit, this story better have a finale at some point because there’s nothing more annoying than an open-ended ending, particularly in the romance genre.

Today we’re going to take a quick jaunt over to Italy because –

NO! Not because Luke is allegedly filming there. If you’re into real-time stalking, you’re in the wrong blog. But, I’m sure there’s a Discord for that.

It’s because I’ve had several people ask for my opinion about the change in behavior between Luke and Nicola during their Day 1 interviews there. Wait – people are interested in my thoughts? Wow, that’s actually kind of nice. Thank you! Okay, back to what I was saying –

Was there a change in behavior when Luke and Nicola reached Italy? Yeah, actually, there kind of was.

By May 9, we had been gifted with a slew of material from Luke, Nicola, and the Bridgerton cast and, I must admit, those early interviews are some of the most entertaining of the tour. In the very beginning, Nicola appeared as the utmost professional – charming, intelligent, and witty at the right moments – and Luke played her likeable counterpart to “Book Colin” perfection – bouncing between being awkwardly boyish and wickedly roguish, all while looking at Nicola like she had just served him homemade peanut butter crumble.

The two of them together, playing off each other, in my opinion, was better than Bridgerton Season 3 (you cannot beat the World Tour being 99% Luke and Nicola, with only a few random side characters taking up screentime). There was some major “Electric Love” radiating from those two throughout the tour, but it seemed very much heightened in the beginning (probably because they hadn’t yet answered the same question 67 times). By the way, if you haven’t heard that song by Børns, go have a listen. It will, at the very least – hopefully – put you in an upbeat mood for the day.

Now, where was I? Oh, yes – was there a change in behavior between Luke and Nicola when they reached Italy?

Absolutely.

Do I know why?

Absolutely not.

Perhaps Luke was bent because someone spilled his coffee, or Nicola was upset because her stylist made her to wear that little silver bow in her hair. In my opinion, the most intriguing part of Day 1 of the Italy press junket was that Luke and Nicola struggled with answering the question, “What is love?” I swear they both babbled on like two kids in debate class who hadn’t bothered to read the material given to them before taking their respective podiums. They finally seemed to settle on Luke’s “Maybe it’s, like, connection.” Well, they seemed to be missing the “connection” that day.

Honestly, no one can explain their “don’t stand so close to me” vibe during those first day interviews except Luke and Nicola. But, we can at least have some fun and speculate about it with a bird’s eye view. At this point, you should know that I love spreading the puzzle pieces out and seeing how they might all connect. Most people – when putting a puzzle together – start with the side pieces, right? You’ll get my joke in a moment (I hope).

In March 2024 – I don’t know the specific date because my timeline is rather murky going back that far (I was unaware Lukola even existed!) – Luke traveled to Los Angeles for a photo spread with InStyle magazine. I’ve heard two versions of this story. The first being that Luke traveled to Los Angeles with Antonia alone; the second being that he traveled to Los Angeles with his friend group, which included Antonia. I couldn’t tell you which is true, and it really doesn’t matter because it doesn’t necessarily add or take away from today’s story.

Before I get started, I wanted to give a “hurrah” to The-One-Whose-Group-Chat-Fills-in-Lots-of-Missing-Bits-for-Me-Including-the-Part-Where-Video-Footage-of-Antonia-in-Los-Angeles-Seemed-to-Indicate-a-Celebrity-Was-Not-the-Videographer-and-There-Were-So-Many-British-Accents-in-the-Background-One-Would-Fancy-a-Guess-She-was-Traveling-with-a-Group.

Moving along…

On April 7, 2024, Antonia posted a series of photographs and clips to her Instagram grid indicating she had been in Los Angeles, including one where she was laying on a blanket in front of the Griffith Observatory and one where she was sitting at a table marked with the number “95.” On April 14, she posted a second set of photographs, tagging her location as Beverly Hills, California and using “End of Beginning” as her audio (yes, I side-eyed this choice of music so don’t feel bad if you did as well). The second photo dump included her lounging on a rooftop.

I’m not going to delve into posts made by Luke and Nicola during that timeframe. I mean, I’m sure Nicola’s comment, “’Friends’…sure Jan,” on Luke’s April 11 reshared post about Bridgerton Season 3 was only meant to be applicable to Polin. And, if Luke wanted to use yellow and black hearts to represent the colors Nicola and he were wearing in his April 12 post, that’s cool, too. And, I am definitely not going to speculate on Nicola’s April 15 post (for Big Mood) that Luke liked, and she captioned, “I will bite off anything that dangles.”

By April 21, Luke and Nicola were in Australia at the World Premiere of Bridgerton. I am only going to provide a quick overview of Australia instead of a full-fledged recital because, at some point, I will almost certainly dedicate an entry to this country. Let’s start with Luke pulling off the hottest walk-up in Netflix human history (I mean, have you watched it in slow motion?). Then, we had the hard launch of the handholding business (because why again?). And, we had Luke tripping over his words, “We’re very, like, giving…I’m not talking about those scenes…” Oh, and Nicola telling an interviewer that, “[y]ou can’t keep a good girl down,” and, in response, Luke’s lips curling into a wicked-ass Cheshire cat's. We had them in the garden, with Nicola bending down to hug Luke after she had scratched/hit/petted his head. Perhaps I should not mention the possibility of a man’s shirt being visible on a bed behind Nicola (I said possibility not that it was). And, Nicola telling Luke, “You’re the funnier one,” when he was concerned that perhaps Benedict was funnier than Colin. Then we had the “Nicola-in-the-green-dress” day where, as they were going down the steps, Luke seemed to instinctively reach for Nicola’s hand, but she played it cool and took his arm instead. Oh, and that entire “green dress” day in general (I mean, there was so much shit going on that day). And, best we do not forget Nicola saying, “the best foundation for love is friendship,” which mirrored the bracelet “someone…in Australia” gave Luke that read, “Do you believe the best foundation for love is friendship?” Because that’s not suspicious at all. Alright, let’s get the fuck out of Australia – but not before I mention Nicola commenting on Luke’s April 27 Instagram post with “Ready for the next?” and Luke replying, “Absolutely.” Yeah, yeah, yeah, their shenanigans in Australia expanded the USS Lukola tenfold.

Oh, also, let me throw this in here because, if you are a “ring truther,” this fact plays a significant role in the Lukola timeline. If you do not know what a “ring truther” is, that’s perfectly fine. You can catch up by reading Entry 6 (The One Where I Explained the Claddagh Ring to My Dad) of my blog. I mentioned in Entry 6 that some Lukola sleuths have stated the metadata they pulled from the sketches of the Claddagh ring uploaded by Chupi indicate they were done as early as April 26. In other words, it means the Claddagh was likely commissioned between Australia and Italy. In fact, if we are to believe Chupi when it said it took four weeks to make the ring, then it had to have been commissioned by May 9, 2024, at the latest. Oh, lookie there, that’s Day 1 of the Italy interviews.

But, before we get to May 9, let’s pause on April 29. That was the day Luke’s InStyle spread was published – yes, the one I mentioned earlier. Luke has pictures from this photoshoot still on his Instagram grid – in fact, Nicola commented, “Yess dude!!” on them – but those aren’t the pictures I want to talk about. No, I want to talk about the pictures InStyle posted on its Instagram grid that day. These photographs came directly from Luke, which was confirmed by the InStyle article when it said, “…the actor delighted the InStyle team by delivering the polaroid photos he’d taken for this story tucked oh-so-carefully in a little brown bag for safekeeping.” The pictures Luke provided, among others, included one where he was laying on a blanket in front of the Griffith Observatory in Los Angeles; one where he was sitting at a table marked with the number “95;” and one where he is sitting in a lounge chair on a rooftop. If you want to see the pictures, InStyle still has them available – you just need to go through hundreds of posts to find them. Luke did not like this InStyle post, which was kind of odd because he was tagged in it, and they were reportedly his pictures.

Why did these InStyle polaroids seem so familiar?

Oh, that’s right, because they were.

Remember that April 7 post of Antonia’s I mentioned a bit ago? Yeah, the one where Antonia posted a bunch of random pictures from Los Angeles and – only after InStyle posted Luke’s polaroids – fans realized Antonia had preemptively posted her version of some of Luke’s polaroids.

I am not going to speculate too much about these pictures or their implications in this blog post, but these pictures may resurface in future posts because I find myself side-eyeing the fact they even exist. And, we should probably accept that Luke was aware of them before his pictures came out on April 29 because he threw a like on Antonia’s April 7 post. Could it have been a “blind” like? Sure, I guess, but the logical side of my brain says he probably looked through them at the time she posted. Let’s not worry too much about it right now, though.

After trying to write out my “general” opinion about the pictures several times, I finally decided that the best way I could articulate my thoughts was through the conversation I had with my father. Yes, Dear Dad returns again for another insightful Q&A.

I started by showing Luke and Antonia’s three “matchy” pictures to my dad and then asked him to compare them. To be clear, the pictures were their respective Griffith Observatory, Table 95, and Rooftop Lounging pictures.

Me: “So what do you think?”

Dad: “About what?”

Me: “Ugh! Why did Antonia take those pictures?”

Dad: “Well, to show she’s part of the ‘in’ crowd. The only reason I can see them being taken is if she was going to put them on the Internet.”

Me: “Uhh, as a matter of fact, she did put them on the Internet! Approximately three weeks before Luke’s were published.”

Dad: “See! I’m not as dumb as you think.”

Me: “Whatever. So, you really believe that? She took them to show people that she was, like, there?”

Dad: “Yeah. Why else would she take them? They’re not the kind of photos you’d take normally. What’s she going to do, put them in an album and show her friends in five years and say, ‘Look, I sat in Luke’s chair?’ Who does that? Nobody. Plus, Luke’s pictures look like they were taken with a polaroid camera and Antonia took hers with, I guess, a phone. Why use two different cameras? Again, it doesn’t make sense. Seems to me like she knew what pictures he was taking, and she was trying to copy them so she could put them on the Internet.”

Thanks, Dad.

You do not have to accept my father’s thoughts on the photographs. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. However, I think we can meet in the middle and opine that, at a minimum, Antonia’s pictures caused the weak Lukolas to jump overboard; at most, they gave some people stalker vibes; and somewhere in between, they introduced Antonia's negative influence over the fandom and what some may consider trolling behavior (even if it wasn’t recognized then).

Now, before we land in Italy on May 9, let’s summarize what has happened during the preceding two months.

First, we had Luke traveling to Los Angeles in March with Antonia, either alone or as part of a friend group. Luke had pictures of himself taken while there.

Second, we had Antonia posting pictures in early April that would be linked directly to Luke’s pictures by the end of the month.

Third, throughout the month of April, we had Luke and Nicola traveling together for the World Tour. We have all seen these interviews, and we have all formed independent opinions about them.

Fourth, based on Chupi’s own words, we know the Claddagh ring must have been commissioned no later than May 9.

Okay, now we’ve reached May 9, Day 1 of the Italy press junket.

Besides the press interviews, what happened on that day?

Well, Antonia reposted Luke singing Coldplay’s “Yellow” to her TikTok account.

Uhh… Huh. Interesting.

I mean, it’s possible that this was just a coincidence and she just liked Luke’s version of it. Or, it’s possible Antonia knew that “Yellow” was the Polin wedding song and she anticipated trolling Nicola and/or the fandom with it. But, if we believe she knew “Yellow” was the Polin wedding song, that means either Luke told her, or someone with that knowledge told her (i.e., someone from Luke’s team or family/friend group). We also know that Luke mentioned this song in the May 16, 2022 Netflix Tudum article when Nicola and he were asked about their song choices for Season 3. Luke stated his frontrunner was “Yellow” by Coldplay “because of Penelope’s dresses.” Regardless of why Antonia posted the song, I find it hard to imagine Netflix, Bridgerton, Shondaland, Nicola, or Luke were too impressed by Antonia resharing it on TikTok. I mean, at this point, Netflix & Co. would surely have been aware that Antonia’s “copycat post” went over with the fandom like a wet blanket in December in Canada. I imagine some questions were being asked and Luke may very well have received a hand slap from Corporate – and maybe even from Nicola.

But, that’s not the only thing that happened on May 9.

Luke posted his Homme magazine spread to his Instagram grid on that day, too. He captioned the post, “Chatting through all things S3 with @hommeplusmag [o]ut next week x.” Nicola commented, “Yessss,” and Luke tagged his post with the location of Hackney, London. That last part – about Luke tagging the location in Hackney – apparently sent the fandom into a deep-dive of…Nicola’s backyard. Why? Because Nicola lives in Hackney (Nicola herself confirmed she lived in Hackney in a March 18, 2024 interview with Derry Now), and rumors started to circulate that Luke’s pictures were taken at her home.

Hmm, I didn’t realize May 9 was such a busy day, did you?

So, which came first – the chicken or the egg? Did Antonia repost “Yellow” to her TikTok before Luke posted his Homme in Hackney images to Instagram, or vice versa? I’m sure someone out there has this information. The answer might help shine some light as to why Luke and Nicola seemed “off” in the early part of their Day 1 Italy interviews. But, then again, does the order really matter? Regardless of who posted first, it would seem to me that “Yellow” was a very possible culprit for the different energy on set that day.

That, or Luke really was peeved over someone spilling his coffee.

[steventhusiast]

modern au where eddie and robin are roommates and steve is italian <3

-

eddie has always known that his roommate robin is in the US for college, but grew up in and is from italy. sure, sometimes he forgets, because she somehow has a near-perfect american accent and also speaks two other languages, but he’s always known.

and for the past year and a bit, he’s known how much robin wants her best friend stevie to come visit. she talks about them all the time, and ever since she and eddie moved out of the dorms and into an apartment together for their next year of university a month ago, he’s known stevie is going to come and visit.

he just kind of forgot the exact day stevie would be arriving.

so when he, clad in nothing but his garfield pyjama pants and a metallica t-shirt that’s falling apart, walks into the kitchen one morning and sees someone he doesn’t know at the kitchen counter fiddling with their instant coffee machine, he almost shits himself.

luckily, he doesn’t, because he remembers in that split second that stevie was due to arrive last night. but he still flinches pretty hard at the fright and grabs for the nearest grabbable thing, which turns out to be the doorframe. somehow, he makes a noise loud enough to get the mystery person’s attention, and they turn around.

holy shit. eddie did not know stevie is hot. or that stevie’s actually a guy. he kind of just assumed, with the nickname and all? but the man standing there looks like he could’ve been carved by the gods eddie doesn’t believe in, and- eddie realises he’s been staring at the guy for a few seconds now, and decides to talk like a normal human being. he first adjusts his position so he’s no longer holding onto the archway of the kitchen for support, and smiles at the guy.

“hi, you must be stevie?” he offers, and stevie takes a few seconds to process his words before nodding with a smile.

“my name is steve. robbie just is… hm, silly?”

eddie blinks a couple times, because steve has an accent. a thick one. he should’ve expected that, because- hello? they’re both literally from italy. but it catches him off guard, and adds to steve’s hot factor. why didn’t robin warn him about this.

“yeah, robin is very silly.” he agrees with a chuckle, and then realises steve might not know him, “i’m eddie. robin’s roommate. you probably knew that already though, so now i probably look like an idiot. well- more of an idiot than i already do in these clothes…”

he lets his words trail off as he realises steve is frowning at him in subtle confusion. he’s picked up robin’s rambling-when-nervous habit over their friendship, and hot guys tend to make him pretty nervous. but then he realises maybe steve isn’t as fluent in english as robin is, and even if he is eddie’s a fast talker that doesn’t always pronounce things fully.

“i am sorry,” steve looks embarrassed, “my english is not as good as robin.”

eddie feels so guilty at the pink that’s made itself known on steve’s cheeks, and shakes his head immediately.

“no! you don’t need to be sorry. i just talk a lot when i’m nervous.” he confesses. why did he say that? now steve knows he’s nervous. or does he? maybe he didn’t catch his full sentence.

steve raises one eyebrow at eddie though, and one side of his mouth quirks up into a smile as he turns around to keep trying to make himself a cup of coffee.

“i am making you nervous? why?” steve asks, his back still turned. now eddie’s the one with red cheeks. dammit.

“it’s because eddie here thinks you’re hot, stevie.”

eddie’s flinch at robin’s magical appearance behind him is somehow more spectacular than earlier, and he clutches dramatically at his heart and spins around to glare at robin.

“robin! what the fuck, man!” he yelps when he realises what she’s said. but robin isn’t listening, she’s too busy speaking to steve in italian about who knows what.

probably about how she knows all eddie’s tells for when he finds a guy attractive and how she knows eddie’s type and steve checks every single box. or, eddie squints at the pair as robin tsks at steve and takes over manning the coffee machine, maybe robin’s just telling steve how to make a coffee with the machine?

“you think i am…” steve starts as he spins around to look at eddie, and seems to be searching for a word for a few moments, “attractive?”

eddie’s eyes widen, and then he sighs and fixes a glare on robin. robin just shrugs and makes a very insincere ‘oopsie’ expression, and eddie is about to start denying like his life depends on it, but he looks back at steve.

and steve has that blush back on his face, and a tiny smile, and he’s looking eddie up and down even in his ridiculous outfit.

“um, yes.” eddie practically squeaks, not used to having someone’s eyes on him like this.

steve says something to robin in italian that sounds like it ends with a question mark, and robin rolls her eyes.

“steve wants me to translate a pick up line he wants to use on you, but i literally refuse to do that. google translate is free.”

and with that, she leaves the kitchen.

[adverbally]

Pack to Square One

Written for the @stmarchmm prompts “pack dynamics” and “heats/ruts” | wc: 1,417 | rated: T | cw: none | tags: Steve & Wayne, background Steddie, Omega Steve, Omega Wayne, Alpha Eddie, hurt/comfort, non-sexual heat assistance, Wayne is going to help the shit out of Steve because he’s PACK dammit

———

Wayne wakes with a start, heart racing as he tries to orient himself in the early-morning gloom. He can’t figure out what woke him until the phone starts ringing again. After only two hours of sleep following a late shift, the piercing tone shoots right through Wayne’s cottony head.

He stumbles out of bed and into the kitchen, almost fumbling the receiver with sleep-clumsy fingers when he picks it up.

“Munson,” he answers gruffly.

“Wayne?” It sounds like Steve on the other end of the phone, his voice warbling out of him, thick with tears.

Wayne is suddenly wide awake. “Steve? What’s wrong, is Eddie okay?”

“He’s not here.” He’s nearly hyperventilating, each inhale a gasp that immediately gets punched out of him. “Not ‘til Monday, but I’m–” The sob that bursts out of Steve is abruptly muffled, almost like the boy slapped a hand over his own mouth to muffle the noise.

It sets Wayne’s teeth on edge. He knows Eddie is out of town, visiting Chicago with the other Corroded Coffin boys to meet with some record executives, but the lack of context behind Steve’s distress makes everything feel more ominous. Is Eddie hurt and Steve can feel it through their bond? Is Steve hurt? “Son, I need you to tell me what’s going on. You’re scarin’ me.”

“My heat started,” he whines miserably. “It wasn’t supposed to come yet and Eddie isn’t here, and I…” He takes another wet, shuddering breath.

If Wayne had to guess, he’d say that Steve hasn’t spent a heat alone since he and Eddie got together over two years ago. To suddenly be missing that emotional support, on top of dealing with the physical effects of not having his mate to temper his heat… Wayne’s Omega wants to howl just thinking about how much Steve must be hurting right now.

Steve sniffles. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve woken you up for this. I’m being stupid.”

He softens his voice when he tells Steve, “Don’t be sorry. Don’t ever be sorry for leanin’ on your pack when you need it.” Steve stifles another mournful noise and Wayne’s heart breaks for him, knowing how much of Steve’s life was spent without any pack to speak of. “What can I do to help?”

“Wayne–” Steve starts to protest.

“Let me help you. Please.”

He swallows so hard Wayne can hear it. “I don’t know how.”

Wayne isn’t sure what Steve means. He doesn’t know how Wayne can help? How to let Wayne help? He decides not to push while Steve is so upset. “Why don’t I pick up some groceries and bring them over?” he suggests. “You can decide when I get there whether you want some company or not.”

“Okay.” Steve sniffs, then quietly repeats, as if to himself, “Okay.”

“I can be there in thirty minutes,” Wayne promises. “You just sit tight. I’ll see you soon.”

He hates to hang up but Steve needs him there, not over the phone. Wayne makes another quick call to the plant, warning them that a family emergency will keep him away from his shift tonight, and leaves a message at Eddie's hotel before he begins to strategize.

Pack members tend to smell alike, Wayne knows. Experts on secondary gender theorize that it had evolutionary benefits— promoting pack cohesion, discouraging incest among relatives to limit inbreeding, preventing Alphas and Omegas from perceiving their mate’s family as a threat. Even packs not joined by blood could find their scents shifting to become more similar over time.

From the day Eddie had presented, his and Wayne’s scents have been in perfect harmony. They smell like an apple orchard, though Eddie’s aroma is more woodsy and green compared to Wayne’s more fruity and floral notes. Steve himself had noted more than once how soothing he found Wayne’s scent, so similar to that of his Alpha’s but with the reassuring warmth of an Omega packmate.

Wayne can’t help with the physical aspects of Steve’s heat, would never dream of touching him that way. But he can comfort him, can make sure he’s safe and surrounded by someone that smells familiar enough to keep him from going feral. He dresses quickly in his oldest flannel and a t-shirt he wore earlier in the week, both saturated with his scent, hoping it will be enough to help Steve.

—---

When he arrives at Steve and Eddie’s apartment, arms full of grocery bags, Wayne can smell distressed Omega as soon as he opens the front door.

“Eddie?” Steve calls from the bedroom. There’s a terrible mix of hope and despair in his voice, knowing that his mate is hundreds of miles away but unwilling to truly believe it.

When Wayne comes down the hallway, he can see the moment Steve realizes Eddie still isn’t there. His face, already flushed and sweaty, crumples. He tucks one of Eddie’s blankets more tightly around himself, buries his face in the nearest pillow– probably also Eddie’s– and shakes.

“I know, kid, I’m sorry. I left a message at the hotel for him, but he probably won’t be able to get here until tomorrow at the earliest.” Wayne kicks off his boots next to the abandoned bags of sports drinks and snacks. When Steve doesn’t respond, he asks, “Can I come into your nest, Omega?”

“I want Eddie.” His brow furrows in pain. Cramps, if Wayne had to guess, plus the emotional anguish of not having his mate nearby. “Why isn’t he here?”

Wayne kneels at the side of the bed, careful not to touch any of the fabric that makes up the border of Steve’s nest. “He’ll be here as soon as he can. I’m gonna stay with you until then, okay? You don’t have to let me in your nest, but I’m not leavin’ you alone right now.”

Steve blinks at him for a moment before he processes Wayne’s scent. His lip quivers. “Sorry, I didn’t… Of course you can come in.”

He does, carefully climbing into the bed beside Steve. The younger Omega is on him immediately, cuddling into his side and burying his face in his scent gland. Steve lets out a shuddering breath, hot against Wayne’s neck, but the tension gradually leaves his body with each inhale. He definitely seems calmer than he’d sounded on the phone earlier.

“You holdin’ up okay?” Wayne asks softly.

“Not really,” he admits. “Feels like I’m on the verge of losing it completely. I dunno what I’d do without you here.”

Wayne wraps an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “It wouldn’t be fun but you’d be fine, I’m sure. You spent heats alone before you and Eddie got together, right?”

“Yeah, and they sucked.” His exhale might have been a laugh if he had more energy.

“Believe me, I know. I’ve been there, too.”

Steve is quiet for so long that Wayne thinks he’s fallen asleep, until he asks, “Did you ever…?”

The thought is unfinished but easy enough to guess. “There were a few heats I had company for, but nothin’ ever lasted. Not like you and Ed.”

“Oh. Sorry.” He nuzzles his cheek against Wayne’s neck, mixing their scents. Steve smells like carrot cake, all sweet and lightly spiced. It’s nice, normally, but it currently has an edge of burnt sugar from Steve’s heat and resulting anxiety.

“No need to be sorry,” Wayne reassures him. He doesn’t feel like he’s missed out on much– he has more of a pack now than he had ever dreamed of as a pup, and he’d never been much for romance anyway. Bachelorhood suits him. “I just got Ed out of the house, I don’t need someone else bothering me now.”

His joke lands, and Steve chuckles despite his misery. “Yeah, you deserve some peace and quiet.”

“Not from you and Ed, you hear me? You’re never bothering me.” Wayne emphasizes the declaration with a gentle shake of Steve’s shoulders.

“Okay.” Steve takes another breath, then another, slower and slower as he starts to drift off. Wayne’s presence, combined with Eddie’s scent lingering in the nest, seems to have worked well enough to relax him. He’ll probably sleep through the worst of it today, then Wayne can leave him in Eddie’s capable care when he inevitably rushes home tonight or tomorrow.

Until then, Wayne will settle in for a nap with Steve, probably pester him into eating something later, and let the younger Omega scent him to his heart’s content.

He’ll do it all happily, because that’s what pack does.

[save-a-forest-ride-a-bear]

🗒 ꒰⸝⸝₊ General Dating Headcanons ❛ ✧

Featuring: Astarion, Gale, Wyll & Halsin

# Note: content warning for very brief talk of abuse and general trauma back to navigation ´ˎ˗

🌿┊ASTARION

Talk about touch and attention starved. This guy wouldn't know a healthy relationship if it hit him in the face. Whenever you're nice to him or touch him without any innuendo, he's on edge. You must want something from him. Why else would you be doing this? It doesn't make sense.

Speaking of which, touching him out of nowhere usually doesn't end well. He has a tendency to flinch. He cackles and says he just thought he saw a bug, "Silly me," but you both know better than that.

He grows used to it, however. It just takes some warming up to. Eventually, the discomfort fades, replaced by a yearning so strong he swore he felt his heart beat again. When his brain realizes you don't want to hurt him and it's safe to be around you, he starts craving more contact. He's too prideful to ask, but he's not good at hiding it, either.

He loves any kind of compliment, don't get him wrong, but the ones that have nothing to do with his appearance seem to stick more. He's heard every single little praise possible for his face and body — but for his personality? For his mannerisms? If it ever happened before, he can't remember it.

Insists he doesn't like cuddling and only does it because you want to. But the one night you didn't, you woke up to him clinging to you anyway. He said he must've done so in his sleep, completely ignoring the fact elves can't sleep. Deception: critical failure.

Surprisingly protective. If you get hurt during a fight he goes ham on the enemy while yelling for someone else to take care of your wounds right now. He lost everything he had after Cazador — lost even himself to the hands of that sick, wicked man. He can't afford to lose you too.

The relationship started with him trying to manipulate you, sure, but that's not the case anymore. He cares. He genuinely cares for something other than himself for the first time in two centuries, and he's scared you still think you're being tricked by his charms. Again, he's too prideful for constant displays of affection, but he does say "I love you" more often than ever. Maybe if he says it enough times, you'll believe it.

He stares a lot. There's just something so endearing about seeing you in your own little world, oblivious to everything else, or at least oblivious to his gawking. It's the most honest part of you, the most yourself you could be, and he enjoys it from afar.

🌿┊GALE

So needy. You leave him at camp for a few hours and you come back to him acting like he needs to be sent to the seaside for his health. A year of living as a hermit does things to a man's necessities for attention.

Loves your scent. He doesn't share his clothes with anyone (that fabric is expensive, dammit), but he insists you wear them so that they smell like you later.

Despite being a cat owner, he's very dog-coded. Will do things with the sole purpose of receiving praise or kisses from you and gets extremely pouty when he doesn't.

Speaking of kisses, he takes any excuse conceivable to kiss you. Good morning, good night and good luck kisses are very much mandatory. Doesn't even have to be on his lips, he's more than satisfied with a cheek or forehead kiss as well.

He enjoys being taken care of, even if he complains. When you scold him for not sleeping over some ancient tome, he can't help but feel loved. Will return the favour, of course — especially if it comes to food. He's very insistent with the "three meals a day" thing.

Will read to you, there's no way around it. It's relaxing for both of you, so he doesn't see why he shouldn't. He also says he can pay attention better to the text when he says it out loud, anyway. You having your head on his lap as he does it is merely a bonus.

🌿┊WYLL

If this man has any flaw, it's that he's always trying to make every moment you spend together perfect and forgets to just lay back and enjoy himself. Even then, he only does it because of how much he loves you.

The last romantic! Goes all out with dates and gifts — fancy restaurants and the biggest bouquets you've ever seen. Money is no object when it comes to you. Truly a good old-fashioned lover boy.

Definitely has a saviour complex — the type to say "I can fix them" unironically. He just loved you and wants you to be okay, and if he has to drag you there himself he will.

Will go on rants about how smitten he is with you and how perfect you are on a daily basis. If you have to leave for the day, he'll write it as a love letter instead.

Always holding you close, but there's no possessiveness to it. It's a display of affection, not ownership. He's yours as much as you are his.

Loves taking showers together. Not for any sexual reason (though he wouldn't complain if things ended up going down that path), he just finds it incredibly intimate and genuinely enjoys washing your hair for you.

You're not just another romance to him — you're the love of his life, the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with, if the gods allow it.

🌿┊HALSIN

Despite the whole "Desire flourishes wherever it finds purchase" thing, he genuinely doesn't see himself falling for anyone else as he did for you. It's nice to know he could still indulge if he wanted, but for now, he doesn't.

Loves having his hair played with. There's just something so soothing about it. Or maybe it's his wild shape talking, asking for pets. We'll never know.

Always finds an excuse for you to sit on his lap. Again, not for sexual reasons, he just likes wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on your head or shoulder.

Even though he isn't one for commitment, he has a constant, extremely severe case of baby fever. He obviously wouldn't push you if you're not ready, but he does make his sentiments on the matter known.

Stepping dangerously close to smut territory with this one, but he loves how small you are compared to him. The way he engulfs you entirely when he hugs you or how your hand disappears under his as he holds it — it's endearing to him.

I cannot go without mentioning how good his hugs are. Like, seriously. He's so warm and gentle but still strong and it makes you feel safe. It's the best thing in Faerun.

Loves how you look like wearing his clothes. It ties into the size difference thing, since they just look huge on you. Also, much like Gale, he has a thing for your scent, so there's really no downsides.

[x-i-l-verify]

A couple more playlist suggestions that I thought of only after I sent the ask. orz I hope you like at least some of them!!

Yonji @ Sanji

"The Lament of Eustace Scrubb" by The Oh Hellos

"Be My Escape" by Relient K

"Start Again" by RED

Yonji @ Judge

"Monster" by Starset

Yonji @ his family right before he left

"Goodbye" by Ramsey

Yonji @ his family after he left

"Echoes of You" by Marianas Trench

So I discovered this AU about 5 hours ago and it has me in a chokehold. Your Yonji is a precious bean and he must be protected at all times, and Sanji being a big brother is everything I didn't even know I wanted. <3 I hope you don't mind the influx of questions I have after going through the whole tag.

So speaking of Sanji being a big brother, have he and Yonji ever hugged? If so, what prompted it? Is Yonji more touchy-feely than Sanji in general, or are they both pretty touch-averse?

How does Yonji fight? Did he develop his own style of fighting after leaving Germa 66, much like Sanji did, or does he still fight the way he did when working under Judge? Is he still really good at fighting, or does he easily become a nonfunctional, overwhelmed mess, bombarded on all sides with everyone's heightened and fraught emotions?

Does Yonji's prosthetic arm have attachments and hidden weapons? How does he upkeep it? Does he know how it works decently enough do to it himself, or does he have a mechanic that he goes to for tuneups?

Who taught Yonji tailoring and fashion? Sanji had Zeff to help him become a master chef, so did someone take Yonji under their wing in a similar fashion? Or is he entirely self-taught?

Does Yonji ever feel bad for leaving his brothers and sister behind? Unlike Sanji, who had normal human emotions from the get-go, Yonji's been on both sides of the fence, and he knows what it's like to be the sociopathic killing machine their father turned them into. Does he wish there was some way to trigger what happened to him in them as well? Do he and Sanji ever talk about their family? We know Sanji was the only one to regularly go and visit their mother, but do you think Yonji has any memories of her as well? Does he beg Sanji for stories about her?

Where does Yonji live? Does Sanji swing by to visit him every so often, or do they keep in touch by air mail, does Yonji join the Strawhats or just travel with them?

Does Sanji ever have a "O shit, I think I might actually love him" moment when it comes to Yonji? It could be something domestic like laughing together in Sanji's kitchen they work together to prepare a meal, or something like seeing Yonji about to be injured or even killed in the middle of a fight and going "This is the only little brother I've got, not on my watch, dammit!"

Lastly, do you have any songs in mind for you AU, aside from the ones you've used for your animatics? Some that came to mind for Yonji are:

"Stray Italian Greyhound" by Vienna Teng

"To Be Human" by Sia

"Zephyrus" by The Oh Hellos

"Stigma" by V

And I think "Soap" by The Oh Hellos maybe fits Sanji's feelings toward having his brother back in his life and being willing to extend a second chance to him after seeing how he's changed.

Holy shit that's a long ask! Lemme see...

So speaking of Sanji being a big brother, have he and Yonji ever hugged? If so, what prompted it? Is Yonji more touchy-feely than Sanji in general, or are they both pretty touch-averse?

They've hugged, mostly at WCI arc. But for the most part they're touch adverse (despite being touch starved). Yonji enjoys instigating physical affection to anyone but he's not great at taking it.

How does Yonji fight? Did he develop his own style of fighting after leaving Germa 66, much like Sanji did, or does he still fight the way he did when working under Judge? Is he still really good at fighting, or does he easily become a nonfunctional, overwhelmed mess, bombarded on all sides with everyone's heightened and fraught emotions?

Yonji very rarely fights anymore. He usually quickly gets overwhelmed and becomes a mess, yes, due to all of the emotions. Whenever he gets into a fight he loses control of his Haki and it's a bad time. However, if he has a goal, (protecting someone, getting something etc.) he can power through it. His fighting style is still mostly brute force punching because he hasn't learned any other way. However, when he joins the Revs, he gets taught to be more smart about it.

Does Yonji's prosthetic arm have attachments and hidden weapons? How does he upkeep it? Does he know how it works decently enough do to it himself, or does he have a mechanic that he goes to for tuneups?

It used to! He broke a lot of them/refuses to use them. He knew how it worked enough to keep it functional up until he meets the Strawhats and upon finding the frankly horrendous state of the prosthetic, Franky helps make Yonji a new one, specialized for tailoring! He rarely gets issues with the new are but if he does he can usually troubleshoot himself or attempt to contact Franky.

Who taught Yonji tailoring and fashion? Sanji had Zeff to help him become a master chef, so did someone take Yonji under their wing in a similar fashion? Or is he entirely self-taught?

For the most part, he's self-taught! Maybe I'll give him a mentor but I'm usually pretty adverse to making OCs for my AUs. Hmmmmm. He definitely had a training arc under some big name shops at one point though.

Does Yonji ever feel bad for leaving his brothers and sister behind? Unlike Sanji, who had normal human emotions from the get-go, Yonji's been on both sides of the fence, and he knows what it's like to be the sociopathic killing machine their father turned them into. Does he wish there was some way to trigger what happened to him in them as well? Do he and Sanji ever talk about their family? We know Sanji was the only one to regularly go and visit their mother, but do you think Yonji has any memories of her as well? Does he beg Sanji for stories about her?

*smacks yonji on the head* This good boy can fit so much guilt complex in him! He's guilty about everything all the time! Yes, he does want to help Ichiji and Niji, which comes into play post WCI. While Sanji and Yonji tend to avoid talking about Judge or their siblings, Sora has been brought up before. I know I haven't mentioned it on tumblr yet, but I sometimes draw Yonji with a necklace, which is supposed to be a trinket of Sora's that Reiju gave to him when Yonji ran away. Yonji's memories of Sora is hazy and he pretty torn up about it. Yeah, he asks Sanji for stories about her. <3

Where does Yonji live? Does Sanji swing by to visit him every so often, or do they keep in touch by air mail, does Yonji join the Strawhats or just travel with them?

He lives on this random island along the Grandline! Something kinda like Saboady or Hand Island. The Straw Hats (specifically) Sanji has visited few times post the initial meeting but Yonji does not actively travle with them. He might had, like, one adventure with them but otherwise he's not part of the crew or anything. He does get the SH's den den mushi number and keeps in touch that way. Occasionally he'll send packages- usually at the behest of Sanji at the behest of Nami, lol. Later, Yonji ends up getting roped into joining the Revs and he splits his time between being at his shop and at Baltigo.

Does Sanji ever have a "O shit, I think I might actually love him" moment when it comes to Yonji? It could be something domestic like laughing together in Sanji's kitchen they work together to prepare a meal, or something like seeing Yonji about to be injured or even killed in the middle of a fight and going "This is the only little brother I've got, not on my watch, dammit!"

YES! Specifically Yonji crying and gushing about how good Sanji's cooking is. Yonji is a little foodie and while he can't cook to save his life, he does happen to know a good bit about how food gets made and really learned to appreciate the effort that goes into cooking. Sanji is not normal over this fact. He has the "Don't touch my brother!" moment at WCI screaming at Judge. Which sends Yonji into a blubbering mess. (A lot of things happen WCI lmfao.)

Lastly, do you have any songs in mind for you AU, aside from the ones you've used for your animatics?

My ass doesn't actively listen to a whole bunch of music but I have made a playlist for this AU! The vibe mostly is like upbeat songs with sad lyrics lol.

Forgive my terrible terrible taste in music:

Thank you for the songs! Gonna snag 'em and add 'em to the playlist hehe.

Also, thank you for the ask!!!! <3 <3

[oneforthemunny]

🦇🍯🌀 here r mine instead (redid it)

mafia!eddie, fluff, pet based.

"God fuckin' dammit," Eddie's hiss rang through the halls, echoing in the most cryptic of ways, leaving you halting with hesitation.

"Can you fucking do this shit right? Do something right for once in your life, Gareth." Eddie snapped, tone filled with agitation.

"Sorry, I'm not a fuckin' arts and crafts expert, Munson." Gareth snapped back, tone just as biting, filled with sarcasm. "I don't know how to do this type of shit, man."

"Oh, you don't? Don't bullshit me. You used to make disentanglement puzzles and fuckin' scrolls every week. Don't tell me that bullshit- Diablo, sit- just fuckin' do it." Eddie growled, his voice growing more and more irritated with each step you took.

You lingered for a moment, hoping your footsteps were quiet, muffled by the carpet as you crept around the corner, peeking into the office.

The boys must have heard you, whining and squirming with defiance, only to be corrected by Eddie's sharp click of his tongue.

"Fuck! He moved." Gareth huffed, tossing the canvas to the side, with a growing pile of others. "This is so stupid. Why are you doin' this, Munson?"

"Because- Just, shut the fuck up and do it again." Eddie sneered, nerves grated with irritation. He craved a cigarette, maybe a joint. "Don't use as much paint this time."

"Then you do it." Gareth huffed, throwing his hands up. "You try and dip their paw in this shit. They're moving-"

You leaned in, seeing the gaggle of Dobermen sitting at attention, tails wagging at the sliver of sight of you. Diablo wrapped up in Eddie's arms, his right paw lifted, coated in... paint?

"-God, all you do is bitch." Eddie grunted. "I'll fucking do it, since you can't-" His eyes caught yours, snapping back with intensity that had Lucifer running, taking his master's shock as his chance to run to you.

"Baby," Eddie's voice caught, breaking boyishly in his throat. "You're- I thought you said after five?"

"Nice, real nice." Gareth laughed humorlessly. "Did all this shit, and look. Surprise ruined. Good going, dumbass." He rolled his eyes at Eddie, standing.

"Martha Stewart over here is trying to surprise you." Gareth muttered when he passed you. "You deal with him. He's your's now."

Eddie grumbled under his breath, shoulders slumping with defeat as the dogs ran to you, Diablo leaving a trail of paw printed paint behind him.

"What... What are you doing?" You whispered, looking at the pile of canvases, a few on Eddie's desk, others tossed in a pile.

"I, uh, I was trying to make you something." Eddie admitted, muttering towards the ground. "I wanted it to be something special. Like priceless kinda thing, and... and I saw something similar at a shop- Well, it was a painting, but I thought I'd make the real thing with each of their paw prints, but I fucked up and asked Gareth, that worthless fuck-" Eddie cut his rant short, breath catching when he saw you.

Your eyes wide, face neutral in an unreadable way as you scanned the room. Eddie's heart skipped, palms sweaty. "I, uh, I'm obviously getting you a better gift too." He added quickly, not wanting you to think this was your only birthday gift. "I just... I thought you'd like this too."

He paused, your eyes not meeting his, slowly walking towards the two canvases on his desk- Vecna and Lucifer's names printed on their respective canvas, a perfect paw print above them.

"Do you?" Eddie said after a moment, his voice way needier than he would have ever allowed with anyone but you. Your eyes met his. "Do you like it?"

A laugh bubbled up through your chest, head swimming with emotions, heart swelling so much you thought it might burst out of your chest. "Like it? You- Eddie," Your voice shook, holding back a wave of emotions. "This is the sweetest, most thoughtful thing anyone's ever done for me in my whole life."

Eddie's chest loosened, letting his nerves fall and pride take their place. "Really?" Eddie whispered, petting Diablo's head as he returned back to his side.

You nodded, tears brimming your waterline. Here he was, the man with the roughest reputation in most of Indiana, doing crafts- for you. Making a gift just for you. Sure, he could buy anything, would buy anything for you. But still, he chose to give you something truly priceless.

You pulled him into a sweet kiss, one that left you both burning with excited, loving heat, pressing kisses to his cheeks, noses rubbing together as you muttered strings of thanks and praises.

The rest of the night, you spent with your boys, carefully stamping each paw print on the canvas, despite Eddie's protest that it defeated the gift aspect. You assured him this was the greatest gift.

[frostbitebakery]

A Disturbed State Of The Natural Environment, Gods-Fucking-Dammit

A Pada-Wan Story

for @lttrsfrmlnrrgby

“Obi— Commander Kenobi-“

“You can call me Obi-Wan, Cody,” the kid huffs. “Neither you nor I will suddenly combust into a ball of fire if you do.”

You don’t know that, Cody thinks, not liking how his voice sounds in his mind.

Four days since the incident - or, “The Incident,” how Boil and Waxer like to say in unison with the bucket lights under their chins -, two since the 104th of all Battalions received their signal and towed the 212th fleet to the nearest station within the Republic that would allow them to overhaul the ships’ electronics.

It has been exactly two point five hours since Wolffe stopped wheezing at Cody over comms. Nearly as much time as the kid had vanished from under Cody’s paranoid nose.

“Councilor Kenobi is safe and sound,” General Koon had assured him while Wolffe stood at perfect parade rest a step behind, shriek-laughing his armor off.

The kid sighs. “You have come here for a reason?” he asks, stubborn and prim. “Or is Wooley babysitting me not enough?” He points a thumb over his shoulder to Wooley popping up several yards away, waving.

“If you haven’t noticed Hook, Line, and Sinker also keeping an eye on you, my trepidations are justified.”

The kid rolls his eyes, gesturing to three empty looking spots in the distance. “I am well aware Master Koon is in league with you.”

Cody will not explain safety precautions again. He’s saving that for when the kid really sets out to stomp on any and all walls Cody had to hastily and thoroughly built when his General, his partner, suddenly turned into a child at the worst possible development stage for Cody’s sanity.

The kid studies him while Cody is trying to come up with a legitimate reason for looking for him. Direct admittance to personal concern would backfire on Cody in multiple, entertaining ways, and he frankly doesn’t want to deal with that. From the kid being smug that Cody cares about him very much so keeping his distance must mean something more. To accusations of not trusting Obi-Wan (which, correct, Cody doesn’t know him after all), seeing him as a kid (also true) when he’s sixteen and basically a stone’s throw away from becoming a geezer.

Sixteen. Cody shudders. He remembers very well that half year when he was that developmental age. He shudders again. Gods, the mood swings alone.

“I am reasonably paranoid about your welfare,” he says at last. Wooden which makes him cringe but he’s never lied to Obi-Wan and he’s not starting now.

The kid stares at him for a while. One corner of his mouth quirks up with a shrug and a shuttered look in his eyes Cody desperately wants to make better. “It’s different when they really are out to get you, isn’t it.” The Council had explained how precarious his older self’s safety was at the best of times. Cody had only seen the aftermath and the accompanying ranting about life choices with the occasional visibly happy understanding that Obi-Wan could, actually, grow a non-patchy beard when he’s got a few more years on him.

“May I sit with you?” Cody asks. Shoveling his own metaphorical grave is so much easier with mixed signals after all. But he misses the older Obi-Wan. It’s not fair of him but he needs this.

The expected blush blooms on freckled cheeks. “Yes, of course!” is the eager reply, followed by more blushing.

It’s endearingly cute and Cody would like to chew on his bucket now.

The kid scoots over, wide eyed and expectant.

Gingerly, Cody lowers himself, ignoring the armor digging into his ass and thighs. And lets the silence stretch.

This, really, is what he came here for. A self-indulgent little break to catch his breath. The High General of a Systems Army is compromised and that fact has to remain eyes only to an exclusive handful of people. Only the Jedi Council knows out of obvious necessity. So it’s up to Cody to keep everything else running, keeping the admiralty in the dark because even teenaged Obi-Wan had said he’s got a bad feeling if they were to tell the brass. So they haven’t.

Usually, when flimsiwork and war horrors keep stacking up and expand into an avalanche, Obi-Wan and Cody sit together in silence, sharing a precious cup of real tea, being together and lending support and strength they can’t find for themselves but can always, always find for each other.

Selfishly he wants that strength from Obi-Wan now, the warmth of his body nearby. He’s already breathing easier.

The kid is looking at him curiously, but Cody chooses not to say anything. Instead he turns forward once more, watching the busy night markets of the station and the stars behind it. After a moment the kid does the same.

Shoulders slowly relax and the silence becomes comfortable.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Dammit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k (including lyrics)

Warnings: heavy angst, minor fluff

Summary: There’s an open house you visit where you imagine the life you and Steve might have had together because the alternative is just too damn depressing.

Square Filled: getting lost together (2020) for @star-spangled-bingo

Author’s Note: this is based on the song Dammit by Jana Kramer

x

I was drivin' to town and I passed by a house The one with pillars on the porch, Had a sign on the door that said "for sale" So what the hell

You’re not even sure where you’re going. You just get into your car and let your feet drive you to where they think you want to go. The world is a better place than before but it doesn’t mean all that trauma has gone away. Trees pass by as you zoom down the street, not a single destination on your mind.

Sometimes a girl just needs to go on a drive with nowhere to go.

The trees turn to houses and before you know it, you’re in some rural neighborhood. All the houses look the same but they stand tall and proud. People are outside either tending to their lawns or talking to their neighbors. The houses are spaced far enough apart to give each house some privacy but close enough to have friendly neighbors. You pictured yourself in a place like this before. This is where you and Steve wanted to build your life together.

Up ahead are balloons attached to a sign that says, OPEN HOUSE UNTIL 7 PM. It’s a beautiful two-story house with a wrap-around porch with pillars spread out evenly. On the porch is a swing and a small glass table for morning coffee. There are two big trees in the front lawn that could easily hold a tire swing or a small treehouse.

It’s perfect. It’s exactly what you and Steve want. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you pull over and get out. What the hell, right? It doesn’t hurt to look.

I walked in, sat down on some stranger’s couch Solid oak hardwood floors Didn't need to see more 'Cause I could hear you in the kitchen Playin' your guitar, All our friends coming over Little lights in the yard

The realtor must have baked some cookies before opening the house up to the public because it smells like freshly baked goods. The oak hardwood floors sparkle and shine, and it’s honestly the only thing that made you want this house. You don’t even have to see the rest. The place isn’t too busy but there are others looking at the house.

You ignore them as you sit down on the couch. Every single person disappears from the place until it’s only you and your imagination. From here, you can see the kitchen perfectly. From here, you can see the staircase. From here, you can see the entire front lawn. Open space with floor-length windows.

Everything you’ve ever wanted and more.

“Y/N!” You look toward the kitchen and imagine Steve standing there making breakfast. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

“I’m coming.”

You walk down the stairs in cozy pajamas and join your husband in the kitchen. He has his shirt off and is only wearing a pair of sweatpants. It doesn’t matter how much you see him like this, every time is like the first time.

“Remind me why I’m the lucky one,” you grin and sit on top of the kitchen island.

“It’s me who is the lucky one. You look beautiful. Radiant in the summer sun.”

The curtains are open, allowing the sunlight to pierce through the windows and into the kitchen.

“You’re just saying that,” you blush.

Steve smiles but doesn’t say anything else. As he cooks, he feeds you small pieces of the food. He parts your legs and steps in between them, and you pull him closer to you. You kiss him, temporarily forgetting that he has eggs cooking.

From the couch, you can see parts of the backyard. There is a beautiful wood deck that has a firepit that dips down with cushions and stairs around it, a built-in pool is farther ahead, and even more trees surround the area. It’s easy to picture you and Steve, surrounded by friends, just enjoying each other’s company.

Steve has been wanting to learn how to play the guitar, so you got him one for Christmas last year. He knows how to play certain songs that he now uses to impress his friends. Bucky, Sam, Tony, Natasha, and even Thor are here. The sun had just passed the horizon so the fire from the pit lit the area nicely.

It’s a great way to end a hot summer day.

You look away from the backyard just as a tear rolls down your cheek.

I think the owners could tell I was lost in myself So they left me alone, and said "Make yourself right at home" I was already makin' dinner, Callin' you down the stairs Little girl out the window, Hear her laughin' out there

“Miss, is everything okay?” The realtor noticed you sitting by yourself staring off into space. “Miss?”

“Sorry,” you whisper and break out of your trance. “I was just lost in myself, I guess. This is a beautiful home.”

She smiles politely. “Make yourself right at home. Let me know if you have any questions.”

It’s like she could tell you wanted to be alone. The second she leaves, everyone disappears again, and you’re lost inside your head.

You’re in the kitchen cooking dinner for the whole family. The second you got home, you got started on a new recipe you saw online while at work. You’re about to put the finishing touches when you call out for your husband.

“Steve! Dinner is ready!”

“Coming!”

Hearing his heavy footsteps on the wooden stairs brings a smile to your face. He’s always hungry. There isn’t enough food in the world that would satiate that man, but you try to keep him full at all times. That’s the downside of taking that serum. He needs more than the average human to be satisfied.

You wipe your hands on the kitchen towel and walk to the back doors. You open the sliding door and walk outside, soaking in the brisk fall sun. Your little girl, Amy, is outside with your young golden retriever, Poppy. The trees have already begun shedding their leaves, so the two of them are jumping into the pile of leaves. Her laughter makes your heart so full and happy.

“Amy, it’s dinnertime. Come on in.” She rustles out of the leaves and runs toward the house with Poppy in tow. “Go wash your hands.”

She runs into the house, almost running into Steve’s arms. He picks her up and tickles her, and she lets out the cutest squeal.

“Come on, let’s go wash those dirty hands.”

If you squeeze your eyes tightly, you can hear her laughter echo from the back of your mind.

Now I'm driving away Thinking "Oh what a shame" You can pray, you can hope But you just never know I guess that two-bedroom picket fence magic Can't ever be ours now, can it?

The open house is over now but you don’t want to leave it. You don’t want to leave the life you could have had. Still, you get into your car and drive away, and you keep it in your rearview mirror for as long as you can. The drive home is longer than the drive there because you don’t want to go home.

You don’t want to go to a place that is a reminder of what you can’t have. As much as you and Steve planned for that life, you can’t have it. Life isn’t fair. Life takes whatever it wants without any warning, leaving you in the dust.

One can hope and pray for everything they want, but you’ve been around long enough to know that God isn’t watching over you.

Maybe there’s an alternative universe where you, Steve, and Amy are living their best life.

Oh, what a shame.

Man now I just dammit Baby, didn't we almost have it? Honestly, I still don’t understand it We used to love to sit, talk and wish And picture and plan it Man, now I just... dammit

You don’t want to be here. Anywhere but here, but you have nowhere else to go. You unlock the front door and step into your empty and dark one-bedroom apartment. You turn the light on and toss your keys into the ceramic bowl on the small table next to the door.

The silence is the worst. It hurts.

You kick the door shut and hang your jacket on the coat hanger. You walk to the small kitchen that can barely fit one person and take out a microwavable dinner from the freezer. You’re not even hungry but you haven’t eaten today and you need to eat otherwise you’ll feel faint. After putting it into the microwave, you stare at the empty spot on the couch.

You can picture him sitting there, laughing at something you said. You used to sit and talk all night, planning what your future was going to look like. Now the seat stays empty and will stay empty for as long as you live.

That’s where Steve is supposed to be. He’s supposed to be here. Instead, he got lost when trying to return the stones. You never saw him again. You almost had it with him, too.

Almost.

You slam your hand on the kitchen counter and quietly sob.

“Damn it,” you whisper.

x

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[monstacheol]

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾

If you have read Greaser Seungcheol and Greaser Woozi, then get ready for Greaser Mingyu because, when I tell you this has been on my mind lately, it has been on my mind. This wasn’t planned, actually; this was just a random, out-of-the-blue “Hey, let’s try it” idea and I think it’s a good idea. At this point, I'm about to make a master list based on things and the ideas in my mind, but I hope you like it. So like, comment, and reblog for support and enjoy. Warning: this is not proofread (I haven’t slept) but will be in the future and may or may not be a fic in the future

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who was known as the hardworking man of the household but known to be quite clumsy at times.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who is always good with his hands. Cars, motorcycles, household repairs. He does it all.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who had to become the man of the house at the age of 8 as his dad was reported KIA (killed in action) six weeks later.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾 who works and works every day after dropping out of school at 15 , trying to help his mom with the bills and taking care of his little sister.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who got a job at a fancy hotel called The Serene Rosalie as a busboy for the summer just so he could get the money to put his sister into a top private school.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝔂𝓾, who drove all the way from Willow Creek to San Francisco in his truck to begin his new job with his bags packed, his dad's dog tags around his neck, his sister's handprint on the glove box and his mama's hand-knitted blanket.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who moved into the staffing quarters of the hotel, had nothing but a desk, a dresser, a bathroom with a flickering light and a twin-size bed. It wasn't perfect but it was all his for the summer, including the photo of his dad in uniform and the family photo sitting there on the dresser.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾 who was told on the first day at work by his boss to do what he was told and not talk to the guests until spoken to. And he worked like there was nothing; whatever they told him, he did. Whether it was polishing silverware, carrying trays, or scrubbing lipstick prints off of wine glasses. All while being silent, his sleeves rolled up, and sweat glistening on his forehead.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who, after a few days of working at the hotel, accidentally bumps into you, the young socialite from Hillsborough, while carrying a ton of trays and cups in such a rush.

"Shit," he cursed as he looked at the mess he had created, while he looked at you as he saw spilled tea on your light blue blouse and his eyes widened. "I mean—Miss! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—" He rambles as he scrambles to find a towel to "attempt" to clean it.

"I'm sorry. This must be... very expensive," he said. "Let me... let me fix this. I-I'll work your laundry bill off. Whatever it is, I'll pay for it. I swear. I—dammit," he mutters.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who gazes at you with those puppy eyes as you forgive him, reassuring him that it was just an accident. And accidents tend to happen.

"It's fine," you said. "This is nothing I can't clean off myself. Don't worry about it."

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who stood there in front of you, his hands still clutching that half-damp towel as something… Something shifted within him as someone treated him with kindness. Someone so pretty, almost as graceful as Audrey Hepburn.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who realized after that encounter he never got your name but he did that one day as he helped the room attendants with towels.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who lay on his stiff twin mattress and whispered your name to himself probably like 10 times like it was the prettiest thing ever and mentioned how your perfume smelled delicate and floral-like.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who got to know you more after a midnight snack in the kitchen (which the cooks will kill him if they find out but that’s their secret).

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who told you his life story, as you told you, your childhood, how your mother brought you up to become perfect, to dress up in pearls and satin and wanted you to marry for security

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who will literally talk about you on and on in the letter that he sends to his little sister. Of course she teases him back.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who would take you to the beach to get a break from all the charity events, the luncheons, the galas, everything.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who sat there in the bed of his truck, wrapped up in his Ma blanket, watched the sunset. It was also known that he kissed you right there.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾 who didn’t intend to fall in love in the summer, but he did that day.

[misguidedasgardian]

I need to

Enjoy my summer II, part II

MASTERLIST

Summary: You were having the time of your life… but nothing could be so perfect 

Pairings: Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader 

Warnings: cursing, in some countries they are minors drinking alcohol, fluff, mentions of smut, fun timessss, smut, might miss some warnings 

Wordcount: 6,6 k

Notes: SORRY SORRY SORRY, I HAD TO SQUEEZE MY OWN BRAIN TO GET THIS DONE, AND EVEN MORE? I SAID I WAS GOING TO DO HOLLYWOOD THEMED but I couldn't it was one or the other and i htought you'd appreciate more an update! so Happy Halloween! love you all.

Edit: it was like 4 in the morning when I posted this so I wrote Hollywood instead of Halloween, so sorry for any mistakes 😂

“So you must be Cregan”, said Aemond, he walked towards you, right over you like you didn’t even exist and shook a confused Cregan’s hand, “I’m Aemond”, he said he then turn to you, “so long no see”, he muttered

“No long enough”, you grumbled, Criston and the girls didn’t even bother to say hello, looking everywhere with mixed messages of disgust, or curiosity, Cole seemed rather impressed 

It was like watching a car crash, one that you were involved in.

The collision was brutal, two groups of people had nothing in common against one another. 

Aegon and Aemond had brought close friends of theirs, wich where Floris Baratheon, Criston Cole, Tabitha Florent, and Agnes Bracken, all of them from Dragonstone University, that as is, what a great turn off for the lot of you

They looked everywhere with… curious… gazes on them, they were not impressed

“The place looks GOOD”, said Aegon, he is the only one who had seen it in its worse, and Aemond too, “good job”

“Mmmm what are you doing here?, asked Jace standing up. You felt Cregan’s eyes on you, and you looked at him. You felt the little hairs on the back of your neck standing, electrified, you felt a deep gaze in you, you guessed it was Aemond’s. 

Both of you both turned to Jace, who was discussing with an amused Aegon

“Daemon said I could have the house for the summer”

“What it sounded to me, little nephew, is that this house is the family’s summer house, and any of us can use it”

“He lent it to me”, he said again.

“Listen, nephew, this is our father's house as much as it Daemon’s, so…”, said Aemond, “I want Rhaenyra’s room”

“I have that room”, you said fiercely. He looked back at you and smirked, you couldn’t believe those were the first words you had said to him

“Very well”, he said, amused, he signalled to his friends and they all entered the house through the back door. Criston Cole had the audacity to look at you and smirk. You never liked him, he always gave you the creeps.

Jace whined pitifully when they were all out of ear-shot, you just looked back at him. But he didn’t back down, he followed them into the house to see what they were up to.

They were three boys and three girls, and you also were two couples, this was becoming like a very cheap reality show. 

“Well, this is weird”, said Sara, “was that Aemond?”, she whispered/asked you, you looked back at her and nodded

“The one”, you said, incredibly bored

“Dammit”

“He is here to spite us, clearly”, you said, “but this is certainly awful”

“Totally, we shouldn’t have taken so short time to clean this up, they could have helped!”, she said, and now you were more bitter, they were going to enjoy the benefits of what you all spend an entire week doing, and that sucked

“Well, we still have the shack”, you said gently, “our escape, I’m glad Jace took photographic evidence of how the house was left before they arrived”, you muttered.

You didn’t know what to think, the implication of having Aemond here was still falling on you slowly. Aegon though… he was always troubled. The black sheep of the family, he was a hard-partier, always getting into trouble, Alicent and Viserys having to work over-time because of his “mishaps” and “misunderstandings”. Let’s just say his career didn’t go well, and he had a nice pile of DUI’s and tickets for public disruption, breaking an entering, destruction of property, indecent exposure, indecency altogether, drinking in public spaces, and… you didn’t want to talk about the darkest one. 

Let’s just say the Targaryen family fortune had dwindled significantly after paying up hush money for Aegon’s misgivings. 

 You were more worried about him than Aemond, the latter one at least was… civil, you could talk to him, he understood reason and he hadn't been involved in an arson investigation two years back. 

“Please don’t leave”, Jacaerys begged, coming back and sitting down next to Sara, she hugged him by his side. You looked at him with pity

“We would never leave you here with them Jacey”, you said lowly

“I told Daemon but he said he couldn’t do anything, he doesn’t want to have problems with Viserys, or Alicent”

“I’m just sad we didn’t save any cleaning for those bastards”, you muttered, “if they arrived here first they wouldn’t have stayed”, you said, and the four of you laughed

“It doesn’t matter”, said Cregan, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, “we’ll do our own thing”, he said simply, “we are all day at the shack most of the day anyways, right?”, he said simply

“Right”, you all muttered, but you were not convinced. You were troubled, all by different reasons. That you felt like there was a camera pointing at you from every direction. 

You didn’t really want to think he came all this way just to upset you, but the evidence was very compelling, why else was he here? He preferred to take his vacations… elsewhere, some place more… fancy and elegant. And furthermore, in the path he was in? He already had internships lined up, he didn’t enjoyed his vacations, he barely took his weekends off

Cregan just took a long sigh, watching the scene with increasing worry on his brow, his girlfriend’s ex was here, looking for trouble? Looking to get her back? Should he be concerned? He looked at your beautiful face, perched right by his side, and he decided he shouldn’t be, not on your end.

But he was coming up against Aemond Fucking Targaryen, heir to a fucking dynasty, handsome, with an impeccable reputation (at least that the media knows of), and he seemed to be the image of perfection with each of his movements or each of his breath he took, so elegant and calculating. 

But as you laughed on his hold, about something Sara said, as he saw how comfortable you were against him, he relaxed, he knew you had chosen him, above Aemond, he knew you loved him, in that short amount of time…. So he relaxed again right beside you, as the whole group tried to calm down after that surprise.

You completely ignored the other party as you finished your small barbecue and went to sleep, You took Cregan’s hand as you gilded him upstairs, you felt Aemond’s gaze on you, not matter how much Floris was perched in his lap chatting him up.

As soon as you closed the door, you felt like you had to give some sort of explanation to Cregan, or at least some reassurance

“I don’t know what he is doing here”, you said quickly 

“I know this isn’t your fault”, he said with a soft smile

“But I don’t want to leave, this is our summer, our plans, we need to keep the shack going”

“I know”, he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, you went to him, and he hugged you tightly, placing his head on your mid body, “we’ll just ignore him”, he said simply

“The house is big, I know we’ll manage”, you said dismissively. 

That night you felt so weirded out, especially once someone you didn't see who it was opened the door to the room next to you and settled themselves there, that you couldn't do any funny business with Cregan.

But you made sure to wake up early, as you both were the first ones to come down.

You opened the fridge ready to start some eggs or something, but you found it mostly empty, in instead of breakfast food you found… booze

“Where’s all the food?”, you asked out loud, “why is the fridge filled with beer… and NOTHING else?”

“Sorry, we were hungry”, said Aegon from the couch he was slumping in, is not that he woke up early, you guessed he never went to sleep in the first place

Cregan didn’t say anything as he sat behind the kitchen bar

“Do you know where we can party around here?”

“No!”, you said back, you only heard a grunt, and Aegon standing up and leaving

You started some toasts, as Cregan started the coffee, luckily you still had some of that, Sarah came down with hair all messy, Jace quickly followed, they booth grumbled when they made the same discovery as you did on the fridge

“How good is the cooler in the shack? Because I think we could set up food there”, asked Jace

“Let’s”, you invited, at that moment, Aemond came in, he was shirtless as he had been working out outside, of course he woke up before everyone else.

“Good morning”, he greeted all of you, his eyes lingering on you. You four looked like you had been ran over in the middle of the desert

“Let’s get out of here” you offered when he left

Normally you would take turns, two of you would go to the Shack to open and the others could linger, but… this time you were all in a rush to get out of the house

You wondered when Baela and Rhena where going to come by

You took whatever you could to eat and fled the scene like criminals, in Daemon’s jeep, luckily they didn’t claim that as well. You opened the shack and it didn’t take long for customers to start coming, you were excited, word was getting spread and little kids came with their parents to rent boards and some plastic kayaks for beginners 

It was a very full day, but that meant that you were already breaking even on the small investments you had made in the shack and it was fruitful, and Cregan was writing everything down to make his report for his class in the university. You were proud of him, and your friends, and you were happy with what you were doing.

You were so enthralled in your work that it wasn't until when the sun was set and you were done putting the kayaks away that you checked for phone

You screeched, making Cregan drop his notebook and Sara to push all the wrong buttons on the old cashing machine

“WHAT?”, she asked, frightened

“OBERYN MARTELL JUST TEXTED ME!”, you said hastily

“WHAT?”, asked Sara

“HE IS ASKING ME WHAT ARE WE UP TO AND IF THE FESTIVAL IS STILL ON!”, you screamed

“AH!”, screamed Cregan, as excited as you were

“WELL ANSWER HIM! ANSWER HIM!”, cheered Sara, screaming as loud

“WHY IS EVERYONE YELLING!?”, asked Jace, running into the Shack

“OBERYN JUST TEXTED ME!”, you said loudly

“AH!”, Jace let out a girly scream, and then you all started jumping in happiness grabbing one another.

“ANSWER HIM! ANSWER HIM!”

“WAIT WAIT WAIT!”, said Cregan quickly, “is the festival still on?”

“What festival?”, asked Jace

“The Lake festival”, you said, “music, dance?”

“That thing is… has been a bit lame the last couple of years”, he said, scratching the back of his neck.

“What are we going to tell Oberyn?”, you asked.

“We need to do some reckon”, said Jace. “you and me”, he said to you, “guys cover us”, both Stark nodded as you both went outside and took the jeep

“... This is… awful”, like the shack, and Daemon’s abandoned house, it had potential, but the long esplanade where the festival was going to be held was… overgrown, the stage had… nothing to offer, and the flyers were just sad, poorly made

“So it’s on”, Jace said looking at a flyer he found on the ground, “some of this bands are actually cool, it's just… a bit sad”

“Agree”, you said, “what can we do though?”, you looked at your phone, Oberyn seems like an amazing guy outside of the screen, so you texted him back

“What are you doing?”. Asked Jace, alarmed

“Telling him the truth”, you said politely, “that the festival has potential, but we need his help”, you kept writing, you stole one of the flyers and contacted the organisers for the festival, and offered your help, Oberyn texted back hours later, expressing how he wanted to help as well, offering his presence as a presenter for the festival. 

You got home late, and you found the house reeking of weed and beer, and as expected, nothing to eat, luckily you had picked something on the way.

“Where were you?”, asked Aegon, “we were hungry!”, he laughed, you looked at him with one of your eyebrows raised

“Excuse me?”, you asked him, “you ate all our food, if anything, you could go and buy some more”

“We were working”, said Jace, trying to calm the already tense scenery. 

“Working? We are supposed to be on vacation”, mocked Aegon, you only shared looks with Cregan and Jace and went on your way inside the house.

You found a very weird scene in the kitchen, Aemond was wearing… nothing but shorts and an apron as he was cooking something, and he was cooking

But Floris was sitting in the kitchen counter, the shortest shorts on her and a crop top as she was clearly flirting heavily. Aemond offered her a taste of whatever he was cooking with the wooden spoon and you just stopped in your tracks when you heard her moan shamesly

They both stopped when they noticed you, Cregan and you frozen like deers in headlights.

You felt Aemond’s gaze on you

“We can make the pizzas on the grill”, you whispered, exiting the kitchen.

You didn't feel anything at all for Aemond being with someone else, a bit of disgust really, for the scene in general, but nothing at all. And you found yourself smiling, because it was so freeing. Cregan however, was frowning.

He had been your first great love, and as Cregan saw him, he thought about how different they were, how different Aemond was from himself, he seemed so… perfect, and he saw himself as someone… far from it.

He came to his senses when you whispered sweetly to him, to ask him to lit the fire, he snapped out of whatever he was thinking and smiled down at you

He needed to eliminate those thoughts from his mind, you wanted him, that was it.

You were positively destroyed when your tired body touched the comfortable mattress, but when Cregan got inside the bed right behind you, hugged you and nuzzled the side of your neck with his nose and his sweet lips, something quickly kindled inside your lower belly.

“Mmmm hello there”, you teased, caressing his strong arms

“A very good night to you my love”, he murmured sweetly, kissing your weak spot right under your ear making you shiver. He moved you gently and slowly, making your back stuck to the mattress as you invited him between your legs, to get comfortable on top of you

He finally kissed you and you kissed him back.

What was it about summer that got you all horny?

You kissed him hungrily as you grabbed him by the back of his head, caressing the hair there, his soft deep black locks. You moaned when you felt how hard he was underneath the soft fabric of his pajama pants 

“OH AEMOND!”, you both froze in your spots when you heard the high pitch moan coming from right across the wall, “OH YES!”

“What the fuck?”, asked Cregan, even in the dark you could see his grey eyes staring down at you in horror

“FUCK YES!”, this wasn’t real, this was a scene completely made up, because there was no possible way those moans were real.

And then the bed in the room next door started slamming against the wall, YOUR WALL

You covered your ears childishly

“Can’t listen to this”, mumbled Cregan, raising from the bed, this certainly soured your mood

You put a pillow over your head but that didn’t help.

You jumped out of bed and after a look from Cregan you decided to change the entire room setting and change the bed (very loudly) to the other side of the room, nightstands and all, and then, your sweet boyfriend put on the old TV, and a VHS of a Disney movie you watched when you were kids to drown the pornographic noises

“I’m sorry”, you mumbled, when you were back in his arms, all sexy thoughts leaving your mind

“You have nothing to be sorry for”, he whispered, kissing the top of your head

“I don’t even know why he is here, this is not his scene at all”, Cregan chuckled

“Isn’t it obvious?”, he asked, “he clearly wants to get on your nerves”

“It’s psychotic”, you offered, “is not like there's a chance we’ll get back together”, you said mindlessly, you cuddled into his chest, hiding your face in it, inhaling his scent, he smelt so good, it like everything about him was drawing you to him.

You slept cuddled onto him, finally able to have a peaceful night.

You offered to had the morning shift, and as soon as you were able, you snaked out of the house before you could see Aemond’s stupid triumphant grin

It was still super early, but you didn’t care as Cregan layed you gently on the wooden floor of the small second floor of the shack

“Shhh, clients could go in any minute”, he teased with a toothy grin, “I put the ‘open’ sign in”

“You kinky bastard”, you teased, he trapped your lips with him as he accommodated between your spread legs. Today you decided to wear a sundress, so, easy access for your boyfriend. You were both really horny and you were already wet for him, so you went straight to the main course.

“I love you”, you sighed, as he teased your entrance with his thick fingers

“And I love you”, he grunted, so needy for you, as much as you were for him

This was technically a quickie, so uncharacteristically of you and yet… It was delicious. He made sure to release your breasts front he confinements of your upper bathing suit and your dress, as you grabbed his cock and led him inside of you, making you both moan 

“Fuck it feels so good”, you moaned

“Fuck”, he cursed.

A quickie is all you could get these days, and you were thankful for them

You shared complicit looks as you put on the shirts you had made to promote the shack, and Cregan went out there to fix the kayaks and boards, so the day started better than you hoped for. 

But that didn’t last long

It was past noon, where the four of you received a very unwelcome visit

“So this is where you had been hiding at”, teased Aegon, as the six of them showed up at your shack, coming out of the cars they rented 

The girls snickered in between themselves

“What do you want?”, asked Jace, coming out to face the, group

“Iuu its gross”

“Does it even have a bathroom?”, they whispered among themselves and you just pretended you didn't hear them. Cregan became a bit upset, since this was technically his baby, his idea, his project. So he went outside, pretending he needed to check on the rentals

As they all checked the inside you felt Aemond gaze on you, but you tried to pay them no mind, as Jace and Aegon went outside

“This is just…”, Aemond didn’t finish his phrase, and you were there, outside by the rentals to hear him because it was your turn to mind the kayaks and boards, “disgusting, who's dumb enough to come up with this?”, he asked

“Stop it!”, you demanded, probably talking to him directly for the second time since he got here. 

Cregan was in the docK, watching over a woman and their kid that were at the lake

“Did you really just dump me… for this?”, he asked

“No, I dumped you because you cheated on me!”, you whispered angrily, “with my teacher! Because you have a toxic personality! Because I didn’t have anything to do in that horrible school!”

“I didn’t make you do it”, he said 

“Maybe”, you said, “but you cheated on me, I don’t know what happened to you Aemond, but, I’m thankful for it, because I met Cregan”, you said, “and he is the one, I love him”

“Oh him?”, he asked, pointing at Cregan, who was a bunch of meters away 

Cregan was watching the whole thing unfold from the corner of his eye, he couldn’t quite catch what you were saying but he could tell you were discussing something. He had half the mind to go and put an end to it, but he knew you had to fight your own battles, still, as you kept arguing with Aemond, he was able to listen to the pair of you

“I don’t know what you are doing here Aemond, alright? But it's pathetic! Leave me alone!”

“You go and trade me for the first mutt that calls you pretty, you are the one that changed! You used to be determined, have ambition, we were going to rule this country together”

“We were children with childish dreams”, you said back, “and if we are being honest, they were more yours than mine”, he chuckled darkly, “Aemond this isn’t like you, I advice you to find your pride and get the fuck out”, you told him

“Pride, sure, like Cregan is so prideful”, he mocked

“Don’t bring him into this!”, you said, “he is a good man!”

“Wannabe photographer, alternative type…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“...a pariah of his family, about to be disowned”

“What?”, you asked him

“His family shuns him”, he mocked, “his father was siring bastards…”

“Enough!”, you said, “you are sick, and anyways, what is it to you? We are done, get over it”

“I’m sorry its just pathetic what you are using to get over me”, he mocked

“You are delusional!”, you said, “Cregan is handsome! Kind and funny, he is caring and selfless… he is… strong and compassionate and he is ten times the man you are…!”,  you heard a loud crack and you both turned quickly to watch Cregan disappear in the middle of the small wooden pier

“Cregan!”, you screamed and ran towards him, he didn’t quite disappear, that was an exaggeration, but a rotten plank gave in under his weight and now he was moaning in pain, half his leg trapped in between the beams

“Are you alright?”, you asked him, getting to him, he was moaning in pain and grabbing onto his leg

You helped him, he grabbed onto you and you helped him out of the hole

“Are you alright?”, you asked him softly

“Yeah”, he said, but it was clear on his voice that he was in pain still

His cheeks were red and he seemed positively embarrassed. 

“I’m fine! I’m fine, love, really, ah!”, he whined in pain as soon as he put his foot on the ground

“Maybe you got a sprain or something”, you said softly

“Damn, I’m sorry!”, he said

“You got nothing to be sorry for”, you laughed. But he was mortified.

“We need to go to the hospital I think Cregan sprained his ankle”, you told Jace and Sara, as you managed to help Cregan back inside the shack

Aegon was rubbing his head and Jace was holding an oar, but you didn’t pay attention to it.

. . .

“I feel like an idiot”, Cregan mumbled, as you kissed his cheek and helped him back inside the shack, it was a sprain, pretty mild, but still, they had put a thick bandage around it and he had trouble walking but still. 

“You might be an eavesdropping idiot but… you are my idiot”, you teased, he chuckled, and you gave him a peck on his lips. He chuckled against your lips

“I’m sorry guys”, mumbled Jace, as you gathered again in the shack, “I should have never asked Daemon in the group chat, we should have kept it under wraps

“Your family is pretty tight, they would have never not known about it”, you said softly, “what matters is that the shack is thriving and we are together, right?”, Cregan grabbed you and made you sit on his laps, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. 

But still, the fact that you had conquered the house and then you were conquered was infuriating

“I don’t want to get back to the house”, you just snapped, as everything came crashing back to you, you liked being with Jace, Sara and Cregan, you did not want to get back to that place where Aemond was waiting for you to pull whatever he had planned, thay psycho, and you didn’t want to get back to Aegon and those women and freaking Criston Cole… they had poisoned your safe haven, the home you found. 

“I don’t want to get back to the house, you don’t either, let’s do a movie night”, suggested Jace, you shared looks with Cregan

“A movie night?”, you asked

“Yeah, I got a proyector, let’s project the movie on the side of the shack”

“That sounds amazing!”, said Sara

You and Sara went to get groceries as the boys settled everything up in the shack

And then, when you returned with everybody’s favourite snacks, they had everything set up so you could cuddle in the ground and watch the movie

It was a classic, something you all could enjoy.

And only when you realised you couldn’t sleep in the shack, you returned to the house.

The whole group wasn’t there, and you guessed they were partying somewhere else, because their things were still here.

You finally got to put your head on the pillow, right next to Cregan, you shared complacent looks as tonight there was nobody to disturb you

“I love you”, you said, he smiled 

“I love you too”, he whispered, like it was a secret only both of you shared. 

“I was so scared”, you confessed, “to fall over someone so quickly after everything that happened, I was so afraid, and yet, now I realised I’m the luckiest”, he caressed your cheek

Was it too soon to think it was forever? Because that is what it looks like

“I’m the luckiest”, he whispered, you kissed him gently, and then you cuddled against this chest, “I made a fool of myself today”, he moaned, you only giggled

“No you didn’t”, you said, caressing his chest, “you were fine”

“Right in front of him”, he lamented

“You have nothing to prove to him, or to anybody”, you said then.

“I just wish they would leave”, he groaned. All the doubts he could have had regarding you and Aemond dissipated completely, he loved and trusted you.

“I got a feeling, that soon, everything will balance out somehow”, you said mindlessly

“What do you mean?”, he asked

The very next morning you all were shaken awake by a loud noise

“Alright!”, you heard someone yell. You all jumped out of your rooms, Cregan more like limping, “who the hell had taken over our house?”, you looked down through the railing of the second floor and you saw the twins Baela and Rhaena with smug looks on her faces and her bags

“YOU ARE HERE!”, Jace screamed, “aunties!”

“Fuck you Jace I’m your freaking cousin!”, Baela cursed, and you laughed, because the twin’s parent Daemon was Rhaenyra’s uncle so that made them Rhaenyra’s cousins, so Jace’s aunts, it was pretty funny.

“What’s all that noise?”, asked Aegon coming out of his room

“We are the cavalry that’s what’s up!”, mocked Rhaena

Now you were even! had a fighting chance against the intruders

You managed to scrape up some breakfast for the lot of you, meaning the six of you because The rest had gone back to bed, turns out they were partying.

“So Ben is coming next week”, said Baela, “I already talked to him, and we will all get ready for the festival”

“You know about that?”, asked Jace

“Apparently it's been all over socials that Oberyn Martell is coming, so everybody got hyped and all of Harrenhal is coming, you don’t know about that?”

“We are the ones who invited him”, you said shortly, and both twins just stared at you

“It’s been kind of a long summer!”, said Cregan with a wide smile

“We are like one month in!”, they said

“Well we met him in the Watergardens”, you told them simply

“We have some other news”, Rhaena said in a whisper

“Rhaena you’re such a gossip”, mumbled Baela, but you could tell she was dying to tell you.

“Why know why they are here”, she continued, and you all leaned in over the table to listen to her, “the thing about Aemond came out, about the teacher he fucked, sorry”, she said looking at you

“It’s fine”, you said quickly

“They send him away, and Aegon is a liability every time he posts on social media so Alicent send them both here”, she said wiggling her eyebrows

So that’s it, he was hiding from all the blowout from the thing with Alys, something you didn't know anything about

Nothing mayor had happened, but you were on the brink of an election, so anything could turn the scales to one side or the other… So that is what they were doing

Keeping a low profile

The arrival of the twins proved to be a breath of fresh air, because now they were the “hosts”, not Jace, and they ruled the house with an Iron fist, Aegon discovered that mocking you was a poor way to spend the summer, and lost interest on the palace quite quickly, as it was not the rhythm he was used to, meaning ‘it was boring as fuck’, you heard him say, and started to try to convince his friends to leave.

Aemond seemed determined though, to stay, so, so was Criston.

Floris, since that awful night, clung to Aemond like gum on shoe, and wouldn’t leave his side. What amazed you is that he seemed to reciprocate.

And what wasn’t to love about her? Yes she might be a bit mean, but she was beautiful, rich, and from a good family from the beginnings of Westeros itself, so, she was everything Aemond appreciated. And you were happy, and relieved, for him, as he had let you be after your fight outside of the Shack.

So without Aemond looming over you, you got to enjoy more, get a rhythm going like before they arrived.

And again, he was somewhat defeated. You didn’t know what he wanted to accomplish by coming here, but you could see his face of disappointment everywhere, but that made sense after you learned what you did from Rhaena and Baela

You not being the main reason they were here did make you feel better.

Still, they stayed two more weeks.

But not like you spend too much time in the house anyways,

You felt like you had vanquished them, as it seemed like they gave up, and kept mostly to themselves.

And then, one day, from anywhere, they were called back to King’s Landing

You knew why, but you wanted to stay away from it.

Elections were coming and the main branch of the Targaryen family was pulling everyone in. You were up too, to Harrenhal and Rhaenyra, in only a couple of weeks

The day they were gone, it felt like you could finally breathe, like a dark storm cloud had lifted and all was left was a beautiful sunny day.

But you had no time to enjoy the house to yourselves

Because now the festival was coming

You had talked to the organisers and promised to help, so you divide your time by the Shack, the festival, and also Cregan.

Cregan defended the Shack with teeth and nail, preferring to be there than helping out at the festival, so you, Jace and Cregan took turns to always be two and two. The shack was booming, more people coming each day, and the locals seemed so happy to see you there, always giving words of encouragement, and how happy they were to see their small town come back to life a bit more.

It had been a crowded summer so far, but it was so fulfilling, and so fun.

Oberyn was arriving tomorrow for the festival, but tonight you manage to finish early at the Shack and go back home to throw a small barbeque, only the six of you. And Ben, who just got here. 

You had never ‘ran a house’ before, and you were enjoying the domesticity so much, working by day, arriving at home with your friends and your loving boyfriend. 

“I miss Aly so much”, Ben lamented, and you all booed him as you drank some beer and ate ribs, 

“Oh come on! You just saw her!”, said Cregan

“She is starting to do clinics and all, she’s got a busy summer”, he said, “she is in Raventree hall”, he said

“She is not far from here”, you offered

“I know I was with her since the summer started but her parents kicked me out eventually”, you laughed at him and he chuckled

“Well, we’ll distract you!”, offered Baela, and you giggled against Cregan.

“We got a huge event coming up”, you offered, “Oberyn himself is coming tomorrow”

The big event for the entire season

The Isle of Faces Festival.

The day started early despite you having a late night, but to no matter, you had plenty to do, with your ebay friends.

Cregan and Sara went to receive Oberyn and Ellaria at the Heliport and took him to the fanciest hotel they could find, and you and Cregan went to the Shack for half a day, and then you went home to prepare

The festival had its origins from like two thousand BD, celebrating the friendship between the children of the forest and the first men, and through all these years, they had kept some of the most pagans traditions, one of them was the colourful attires and… masks…

Masks made of wood symbolising the weirwood trees, and it was so beautiful.

He didn’t show it, but you could tell that Cregan was nervous to meet Oberyn, even though he was still limping, he did his best to put on a brave face, and you loved him even more for it.

He was always trying to put up a good front, since Aemond showed up and even though he was gone now, you could tell Cregan wanted to be brave.

So you all got dressed up, and masked, and you went to the huge esplanade where the festival was being held.

There dozens of small tents, all the locals had come to offer their small business, selling their products, food, games, attractions, everything they had to offer. At the end of this huge open ‘hallway’ was the stage where the bands were going to present.

It was like a carnival on steroids, everyone was wearing colourful costumes, and masks, people were dancing, or disguised as mythical creatures.

Oberyn was in his element, on the stage representing and throwing jokes, he was dressed as the symbol of Dorne, a shining sun, with all golden robes and he looked like he was having the time of his life.

Cregan had put on a cape -even though it was so hot you could drop outside-, with a wolf mask, Jacaerys had dressed all in black and red, with scales and a demonic looking mask, even though you knew it was a dragon.

Sara had dressed all in shimmering white. Symbolising the North’s snow, and you, well, you didn’t know what to dress as, so Cregan suggested that you dressed all in silver, with a beautiful round headdress, you were the moon. The twins both decided to dress like creatures of the sea, with glitter on scaly shapes on their faces, beautiful braids with seashells, and flowy skirts. 

His moon

It was sweet. 

You went backstage before the concerts started, and it was kind of fun to see Cregan and Jace completely fanboying over Oberyn and Ellaria

“So these are the lucky fellas”, he said, all entertained

“The girls were right, they were handsome”, she teased, making Jace and Cregan blush so furiously, it seemed like they were going to pass out.

You had the time of your life, it was the best night of the entire summer, especially once the sun hid and the temperatures cooled. Right now you were dancing in front of the stage, the bands rocking the whole place. 

Cregan was right behind you, until he wasn’t 

You heard a whine and you looked back to find his face scrunched in pain

“Cregan?”, you asked above the noise

“I’m fine”, he whined, but you could tell he couldn’t hold it any longer.

“Is it your foot?”, you asked him, and for the first time ever, you saw him holding back tears of pain, “Cregan1”

“It's fine”, he said

“No it's not!”

“I can go, you guys stay”, he said

“No way in hell!”, you said

“You are having the best night of your life, you said it”, he said, “you can stay I'll go back to the house”

“You are not, I’m coming back with you”, you assured him, he seemed conflicted, but finally relented.

“Cregan I can't believe you didn’t say anything sooner!”, you said, he tried to rely on your shoulders to walk, but you could tell he was holding back.

“I didn't want to ruin everyone’s night like i just did yours”, he admitted

“Cregan never say anything like that ever again, you hear me?”, you chided, he barely nodded. He had nothing to drink because he was already on mild painkillers, and apparently they had worn off already.

You led him to the car and then you drove back to the house, Jace and Sara could find an uber

“You are going to miss the afterparty Oberyn invited us to”, Cregan warned

“You are injured and in pain”, you said back, “I don’t care about anything else”, you said softly.

Because Crega had become more important to you than any party, any famous people, (like the friends Oberyn had invited to join him), that scared you a bit, but you trusted Cregan completely. 

His ankle was purple when you got to the house. You gave him some painkillers, some heated pads to help and you cuddled him on the couch

“I’m going to marry you one day”, he whispered as he looked at you with a loopy smile on his face

“Cregan, those are the pills talking”, you teased

“No they aren’t”, he said mindlessly, “I think you are the love of my life”, you only smiled and kissed him.

And a week after the festival.

It was time to go.

You had spent six amazing weeks on the Island, and now it was time for the last few weeks, helping Jacaerys’ mom Rhaenrya in her presidential run, as you had promised. 

You packed the last of your bags and looked sadly at the cosy room that had hosted you for all those weeks. The fact that you had given up the keys to the shack the day before didn’t boost your spirits, except maybe the complete face of shock of the owner, who now had a great business running.

You actually shed a few tears as you board the ferry. Cregan hugged you as you watched the island get smaller and smaller for every nautical knot. 

“We will return”, he assured you

“I had such a great time”, you murmured 

“Me too love, me too”, he kissed the top of your head

You will always going to remember the Love Shack

Sorry if it was a bit anti-climatic

ANYWAYS HAPPY HALLOWEEN

taglist!

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[apollosgiftofprophecy]

Okay Alder so I thought of this while studying and I must share (and concentrate, dammit). Anyway I started randomly thinking about TOA but with one of the female goddesses, because I feel like it could be a really interesting exploration of feminism and the lack of autonomy for women and stuff, and I was like "Well which goddess would it be?" and then I was like HERA.

Hear me out. So like idk why exactly it happens, maybe Zeus just got fed up with the fights or something, but anyway Hera is forcibly removed from Olympus and stripped of her powers, turned mortal, etc. She meets Meg, who I feel like she would honestly like a lot, despite being a demigod. I can see her trying to teach Meg manners and how to be a lady and Meg just being like "Nope. I must pursue my destiny of being a chaos gremlin." I would still have her at least try Percy's apartment, because while of course he would tell her to fuck off, I think Sally would have some sympathy and I think they could have a really interesting conversation woman-to-woman, especially as survivors of abusive marriages.

I'm going back and forth between Hera being a middle-aged mortal (because I doesn't really matter to her what she looks like), but I think it would also be really interesting if she was a teenager, because teenage girls have far less power than grown women, and it would be really interesting to have her be the same age as many of Zeus' victims.

Anyway thought?

OKAY. SO. THIS IS ACTUALLY SOMETHING I'VE TALKED ABOUT WITH CHRONIC ON DISCORD. A WHILE AGO.

the main difference is that we were discussing how ToA would go if Apollo was joined by Hera in punishment, and by god it was a god-tier idea. spoiler: the moment they figure out what is going on, they immediately turn on the other and blame them XD

CUE THE FORCED STEPMOTHER-STEPSON "THIS IS OUR GET-ALONG ROADTRIP" ACTION!!!!!!

and even in this version, I do agree that this would be a excellent opportunity to really dig into woman's struggles in today's day and age, and even compare/contrast them with the ancient world's! because let's face it, there were pros and cons in both times. tho i'd say we have more pros nowadays, but that ALSO depends on where you live and all that. very complex but also not if you really try :3

BUT. your mention of Hera & Meg bonding REALLY made me excited because Chronic and I have talked about this too! This would be SUUUUCH an interesting dynamic!! Hera could help boost Meg's self-esteem, not only just helping her feel comfortable in her body when she's wearing more "fancy" clothes (because those are the clothes usually forced onto her by Nero, so Hera helping her essentially "reclaim" them for herself can be Female Empowerment whoop whoop!), but also just by gaining more confidence in herself.

On the flip side, I feel like Meg would be a GREAT person to get Hera to "loosen up" per say. You can't convince me Hera was Stone-Cold her whole life. nuh-uh. and you bet I think Meg could draw that old Hera out from that mask.

not to mention that Hera knows Demeter quite well. that would be an very interesting conversation between her and Meg, especially since Hera may be a bit unsure what to say since Meg was left to suffer under the thumb of an abusive emperor for years without her mother ever knowing. I think Hera might struggle with balancing making Demeter look good (perchance this be an opportunity to dig into Hera's toxic idea of "perfect families"? making them look good even when you really shouldn't?) and being honest with Meg. Even though Hera is a crafty goddess, I don't think she'd be very comfortable with straight-up lying about her family- she values that bond far too much.

Chronic and I discussed this AU as if Hera was in a middle-aged mortal body, mostly so we had that aunt-niece bond with Meg, and stepmom-stepson one with Apollo, but also because of our thoughts on "what would Hera consider to be undesirable in a mortal form?", much like how Apollo was horrified to be in a normal teenage boy body. So we thought "wrinkles, probably. don't even need that many, just a few would probably make her freak out." because she is a god, and is def NOT used to normal things like wrinkles lol there were other ideas too i just can't think of them at the moment lol

I can see teenage Hera working for an AU where it's just her and Meg, or even with Apollo still! It would be extremely funny if at some point, Apollo just turns around on Hera and says, deadpan, "Okay, Mom." to a literal sixteen year old.

not. not to mention. how The Burning Maze could go. explore that Juno-Jason relationship/dynamic. Chronic once suggested that Hera could get seriously injured saving Jason, so there's food for thought >:3

also. can you imagine the Triumvirate's panic when they realize they don't just got one ex-god to deal with. they got two now, and it's the fucking Queen of Olympus herself.

boys i'd start running if i were you mwhahahaahah!!

[simpcityy]

My Little Spawn Pt.1 (Dadstarion X Child!Reader)

Summary: Astarion was finally free from Cazador after being kidnapped by a mindflayer but he was stuck with one annoying task, you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Baldur's Gate 3 or any of its characters.

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Use of (Y/N), Cazador, language, spoilers for those who haven't gone far in the game....Uhhh...I think that is all.

Everything was dark and blurry in his eyes. All he remembers was stalking in the shadows looking for his next prey and suddenly he was kidnapped. He felt mixed emotions, fear but importantly joy, he was finally away from Cazador. It would be like he suddenly disappeared in thin air and Cazador will need him no more. Until he was stuck with another burden, You. “Would you keep quiet, dammit!?” He whispered rather loudly. You stopped shifting around the tall grass and peaked out of it. “I’m sorry” You whispered before going back to hiding. He looked over seeing two people walking by, “Perfect” He mutters and gets ready to put on his performance.  

  After almost getting incinerated, you and Astarion have found a group and camp for the remainder of the period till the little wiggly worm is out of your mind but of course, you wouldn’t comprehend, for you were so young. 

“Who’s the little adorable bugger?” Gale smiles letting you try to read the books he has found so far. “For the record this annoying little sp-human is not mine, they just seem to be attached to me.” Astarion watches you trying to pronounce the big words only to butcher them. “But it’s getting rather late and I hate to deal with a cranky annoying child tomorrow.” He picked you up keeping his arms outstretched and walked to his tent. Once everyone was out of earshot, he squats at your height. “Listen here, you must not tell anyone what we are understood?” His red eyes look down at your innocent (E/C) ones. “But why not?” You sat on top of the pillow looking up at Astarion seeing him take a deep breath in. Of course, Astarion knows he has to make it simple. “Because we are playing a game” He grins “ We are all hiding our identity. You and I are a team and the rest are a team. Whoever is the first one to discover their real identity, is the sore loser.” He gives a smile sitting down next to you. You pouted, your cheeks puffed up “We will win, okay! I won’t tell.” You lean back before yawning “ If they ask what do I say?” You cute little doe eyes look at him tiredly. “Hmm…we are just normal elves got it?” He looks away in deep thought, “it’s for the best for now” He mutters before leaning back “ You know for a being the youngest Spawn he created…you still need rest like a human, you are such an odd little creature” He gently plays with the ends of your hair “ Why did he even turn you?” He whispers as you slowly slip into sleep. “What use does he even have for you?” He kept asking himself all the questions ever since you were part of the “Family” 

You were the youngest spawn Cazador has ever gotten. You were only 5 soon turning 6. Astarion was first shocked to see Cazador holding you in his arms when he came back from bringing a pretty prey for his master. He never dared question, he kept all his unanswered questions to himself. Astarion felt anger towards you both. Why was Cazador more tender with you, not treating you like he does to his other spawns. Why did you get the special treatment? He was mostly angry towards Cazador as always, why did he turn you, you didn’t even reach your half way milestone of your life. You were going to stay that age and size forever.  He has been treated like shit for 200 years but you, you would never experience the things a child should be, the things teenerages and young adults go through. Once again Cazador has robbed you of your life just how Astarion was robbed of his.

Morning rolled by, You picked up a little flower near Gale’s tent, “Astarion! Look what I found!” You ran up to him as he was getting ready to set foot on finding a healer with the others. “What is it this time?” He mutters looking up before seeing a flower being gently shoved to his face. “A flower.” You smile waiting for him to take it. “ A flower…you called my attention for a flower…this is why I don’t work with little annoying monsters.” He sighs already feeling annoyed from the lack of blood. “I’m sorry…” You whisper looking down, putting the flower away from his face, small tears forming in your doe eyes. He stops putting things into his bag and sighs “ Why must you be such a crybaby” He sits down pulling your tiny form on his lap, taking the flower. “Wow, thank you. I feel the luckiest person to get a flower from you.” He says in a bored voice looking at you. You sniff and rub your eyes, “You mean it?” The tears no longer present in your eyes. He looks at you unamused. “Yes, now shoo, I have to pack. Go bother Gale, Shadowheart or even Tav but not me got it?” He makes you get off his lap before freezing feeling you give him a light peck on his cheek “Okay! I’ll collect more flowers for the others!” You giggle before running off.  He placed a hand over his cheek and watched the direction you left. “What an odd little spawn.” He whispers before continuing to pack. 

  You hummed a tune as you collected more flowers near Gale’s camp where Gale was sitting on the pillow, reading a book. He looks up hearing you hum. “Say (Y/n), that tune you must be from the upper city aren’t you?” He smiles placing the book down as your little feet shuffle over to him. “Mmhm! Papa would always sing me this lullaby at night!” You grin “It’s my favorite and he always wants me to sing! He says I’m his little singing bird!” Placing the flowers down, you sat on the ground in front of gale. Thinking back to what Astarion said last night, remembering to not give away too much information. “Judging by your clothes, I bet your father is a rather important man?” He smiles rubbing down those stubborn baby hairs that lift up from your hair. You only nodded “Papa is the best! I miss him and I want to go home…” You look around the wilderness that you and Astarion crashed in. “I want him to hold me close…I always dream of those monsters…and the little wormy” Whimpering you scoot into Gale’s arms. “I don’t want them to come back!” You tear up, “I want papa to hold me but he’s not here!” You wail. Gale quickly panics “Oh…crying child…what to do…wish Tara was here…” He mutters before rubbing your back “Hey now, you can always come to me, Shadowheart and even Tav if you ever have a nightmare. How about this, before you go to bed, I will tell you a story so you can dream of that story rather than the scary monsters. Trust me, I have read so many books, I know them by heart.” He grins as you finally stopped the water works. “Which is why he’s a walking library in this case.” Shadowheart smiles walking over “Now, we should get going, the closer we find a healer, the faster you can go to your papa” She smiles leaning to your height. “Really!” You smiled, your eyes widened at the thought of seeing your father soon. “Let’s go!” Grabbing the flowers, you ran to Astarion to share the news. 

“Astarion!”

“What now!?” 

Walking to find a healer seems like eternity to you, “I wanna rest!” You whined to Astarion tugging at his shirt. “Then complained to Tav, they are leading the damn group, not me.” He sighs, breathing in heavily to compose himself from lashing out. “Up! Up!” You lifted your arms. “The hell I won’t!” He walks faster only for you to follow him whining even more. The rest of the small group look over watching the two of you, seeing you bothering Astarion even more. “Is it me or do these two know each other very much?” Shadowheart watches you keep tugging on his shirt. “Yet he says he doesn’t know (Y/N), that they only tagged along with him.” Gale crossed his arms. Tav smiles “I don’t know, (Y/n) looks nothing like Astarion so I doubt they are related and (Y/N) always mentions a papa.” Shadowheart and Gale nodded. “What in the nine hells! Where did you go!?” Astarion looks around for you as you stop tugging on his shirt a while ago. “Where did they go?” Tav walks back to the pale elf. “ I don’t know, the moment they were annoying the hell out of me! Next thing I know, they are go- wait…” He smells it, blood. You must have run off to the smell. “ I…um…heard them, this way” He quickly follows the scent with the rest following. 

You carefully walked down the ladder, the smell of blood getting stronger. Turning around a corner, you are met with a woman with red skin, burning and importantly with a broken horn. Slowly walking over to the tiefling, you look up at her “Are you okay?” You meekly whisper seeing how tall she was according to your height. She looks up hearing the childish voice, “Hells, what is a child doing all alone?” She looks at you shocked before feeling the tadpoles connect. “Fuck” Karlach whispers holding her head “You were also in that ship…” She whispers before calming herself down and kneels down to make it seem less intimidating to you. “Hey there little soldier,  What are you doing all alone?” She smiles as you slowly take small steps towards her. “I…you’re hurt…are you okay?” You go to place your small hand on her but she backs away quickly. “Careful there, I’m not like any other tiefling, I can burn you.” She smiles “I'm Karlach, what’s your name, little soldier?” She chuckles admiring your little face as you try to say her name slowly. “Car…Ka…la…Karlach.” You finally get it right, before giving her your name, someone else beat you to it. 

“(Y/N)!?” Tav runs over, crossing the log and quickly pulls you back from Karlach, putting you behind. “Get away from them” Tav frowns weapons out. “Are you okay?” Shadowheart checks you over for any injuries as Gale also checked along with her. Astarion catches up and lets out a small sigh seeing you alive and safe. “What in the sweet hells were you thinking running off like that?! A goblin could’ve gotten you or a wild animal?!” He looks down at you but stops himself seeing you tear up. “I-I’m sorry….don’t get mad like papa!” You cried. “Like papa….” He glares down at you. “Don’t ever compare me to him you litt-” He stops himself seeing the fear in your eyes. Him, being like Cazador. He would rather kill himself than be exactly like his old master. He sighs before kneeling to you as the others were busy with Karlach. “Sorry…I was…I guess you can say I was very worried…I know it wasn’t your intention to run off…” He then whispers “You must be hungry…for blood like me…I know you are craving that sweet and yet bitter flavor but you need to hold it in like I am…tonight we’ll find some small vermin okay?” He slowly pats your head as you nod. Standing up, he walks over to the rest as you follow closely to him. “My, I feel so much better knowing we have a strong wall to protect us from any arrows” He smirks after learning Karlach was recruited. “I like her! She’s nice!” You popped out from behind walking over to Karlach. “And I like you little soldier” She smiles. 

After going back to camp for the day, Astarion watches as you listen to Gale’s stories. He sat from his tent looking at a book but his mind wandered back to what you said. Like papa…when has Cazador ever punished you? He thinks back but nothing comes to him. He turns the page to the book to make it look like he was reading. He looks back at you with that question still haunting his thoughts. It really ticked him off when you compared him to Cazador, he will never be like him…no he will be better. He wants to get back at him and back at him good. He smirks looking at you. Why not get him back with the thing he treasures the most, or rather the person he treasures the more. 

You

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors Notes: Thank you everyone for reading this, please like, reblog and share it with others. I will be working on Part 2 soon hopefully. I also started another series a month ago or more about Astarion and a Gur! Reader. There is only part 1 out as well but I will be working out on that. Please remember to stay hydrated and to get some rest. Love you all! You are welcome to ask to be tagged as well for the next part.

-Axie

[violetjedisylveon]

Okay okay how about a human Shadowpeach au? Where Celestial is actually jail/rehad that full torture for criminal like Wukong.

Wukong and Macaque meeting again after Wukong was free from that place. Wukong now selling fruits to live and Mac really just bother him after everything to make things right again with Wukong after leaving Wukong to face the punishment alone.

Wukong didnt forgive him...(Yet). Especially with Macaque blaming him for everything at jail meeting. Macaque have nerve to visit Wukong that one time and yell at Wukong.

Wukong not in the mood for Mac... Especially when Macaque being dificult and ruining Wukong fruits stand to get Wukong attention. Wukong scratching the mark from his "crown" punishment hard right now. He can feel his migrain is back and Macaque make it worse

Wukong: God fucking dammit! Thanks a lot Macaque. I almost lost job! FUCK

Macaque: Wukong, please. I wanna help. Let ME help you, okay? Let's grab dinner and we talk-

Wukong: HAH you dont fucking get it, do you? Just because Im out from rehab doesn't mean I want to see you. I NEVER wanted to see you AGAIN.

Macaque: Wukong -

Wukong: And if you ever thinking about finding me again, dont

(Wukong really just want to sell fruits and just live a life with his cats(the monkies here) 😭 and his ex still down bad for him)

-♥️

Next

I can't see these guys as anything other than monkeys, I've read human aus and they are still monkeys in my mind nothing changes that ever.

So they're gonna be normal demon monkeys, cept Macaque still has six ears.

Also I got way too carried away with this, so long post warning ahead.

Wukong is a troubled kid failed by the system and living on the streets as an orphan, causing trouble because he was angry at the world. He thought Macaque was the same once they met, and they hit it off causing trouble together.

Quite literally they were being gay and doing crime.

As two dumb teenagers without any good parental/authority figures in their life, it was pretty easy for them to get involved with a gang, the brotherhood. They got into a lot of trouble with the local government, which already isn't the nicest towards demons.

As the youngest and most destructive member, Wukong got all the blame pinned on him, and Macaque because he was always seen with him, they are partners in crime.

Once they were apprehended, they both should have been sentenced to the same punishment, but Macaque has a big secret he's kept from everyone.

He's not an orphan like Wukong, he was, but he got adopted by a very powerful, influential woman, the Lady Bone Demon.

As you would expect, LBD is a shitty, controlling, abusive parent, and Macaque ran away from her and started causing trouble while evading all her attempts to bring him "home". It tarnished her reputation to have her perfect, prodigal child running around with a hoodlum like Wukong.

He pretended to also be a homeless orphan like Wukong when he met him because he got treated like a normal person rather than an object and tool, and he didn't want that to change or for Wukong to judge him for running away from his "privileged" life.

Once apprehended, the authorities were able to finally identify him, and they alerted LBD to having him in their custody.

Using her political power and influence, LBD bailed Macaque out and had all charges on him dropped.

She changes the narrative to be Wukong manipulating her innocent baby boy into making all these horrible decisions, Wukong must have been doing something terrible to make her Mihou agree with whatever he said. She gets a bunch of completely made up charges put onto Wukong, she even gets a kidnapping charge put on him.

Nobody listens to Macaque about this since LBD is very convincing in her lies and has pretty much everyone convinced that Wukong was manipulating Macaque into every decision he made.

LBD definitely isn't being disproportionately petty towards her son's boyfriend who drew her son away from being the perfect, obedient child he was.

LBD rushes into their cell all concerned, fussing mother like and crying about how she's failed him and left her son so vulnerable to being manipulated by a hoodlum like Wukong.

Naturally, Wukong is immediately pissed that his boyfriend was lying to him the entire time, and that he actually had a good and loving family that he threw away for no good reason. Macaque isn't given any chance to explain, Wukong isn't in the mood to listen, and LBD is not helping the situation by blaming everything on Wukong.

Macaque is set "free", but is also forced by LBD to testify against Wukong, which from Wukong's perspective is his boyfriend turning on him to save his own skin, he's sentenced to a long time in prison, both for his crimes in the gang and for the crimes LBD made up about him regarding Macaque.

Macaque sneaks out to visit so he explain everything, but Wukong is understandably pissed the fuck off at him, it's bad enough that he lied to him, but he didn't even have the spine to refute LBD's claims, he really is a coward, Wukong won't listen because he doesn't believe Macaque's life with LBD could have really been that bad, he had food and a roof over his head every night.

Emotions start running high and they both start shouting and saying things they shouldn't have.

They are teenagers with really bad home lives, they don't know how to handle this shit properly.

Macaque gets found by the prison guards, LBD spins another story about Wukong's dastardly manipulations of her sweet innocent son, and she puts Macaque basically under house arrest once they get home.

LBD definitely didn't arrange for Wukong to basically be isolated and tortured in prison after that.

Ten years of torture go by and Guanyin is looking for prisoners suitable to a rehabilitation program to see if it will actually work so people can be improved and not just punished for their crimes. Wukong's got a very bad list of crimes, and isn't considered viable for the program, but Guanyin decides to take the bet and sends him into the program where he can be rehabilitated.

Another ten years go by and the people in charge of the program determine that Wukong has been effectively reformed and rehabilitated. The rehabilitation process was very good actually actually, he got a lot of things he didn't when he was younger and people who actually cared about him.

There wasn't torture, he's got a shock collar on his head after the visit with Macaque that the rehabilitation program was given access to use, they did not, they were like WTF we're reporting you for cruel treatment, so he passed through the rehabilitation program and is finally released from custody and gets his shock collar taken off.

Pigsy was a chef for the rehabilitation program, having gone through a similar process after being in the military to get him back to civilian life, and he helped Wukong set up with a new home and find out what he wants to do and what he can do since Wukong's rather infamous from his publicly televised trial and people have a lot of misconceptions about him.

No matter how many times he insists he did nothing to Macaque, the public believes LBD, a powerful, influential demoness, over him, a reckless kid and screw up.

As it is for most people who've been in prison, finding a job is hard, especially with a criminal record like his, and he eventually finds settled into a good job as a seller at the local market places, he sells some of the fruit he grows, he lives outside the city for his own safety, and some of the things he makes from the hobbies he got into while doing rehab.

For the first year out of prison, Wukong is doing good, better than he had at any other point in his life, he's got a bad rap sure, but a hat and some sun glasses can usually get him by unnoticed.

Then a monkey demon kid starts coming by his stand, the kid never buys anything, just stares at him until he makes eye contact or says something, then the kid runs away and comes back another day.

Then the kid is joined by another monkey demon, a younger one who doesn't look much like the first. He thinks that the second kid isn't a full monkey demon. They both start watching him, trying to be sneaky about it and not so subtly whispering about him, they're little kids they aren't great at subtly.

Wukong ignores them as kids who've probably seen LBD's propaganda about him and are gossiping.

One day when the pair are whispering especially loudly about him

Wukong: are you two ever going to buy anything or are you just going to gawk at me everyday. Money demon kid 1: he's talking to us 0_0 Wukong: *annoyed* well you two are always talking about me, figured I'd include myself in the conversation. monkey kids: 0_0 Wukong: gods damned kids -_- Monkey demon kid 2: Do you have plums? It's our Baba's favorite :3

So now Wukong's got some weird kids who show up and always buy plums from him, and only him, he sees them buying other stuff from other vendors but they only buy plums from him.

He just chalks it up to kid logic and tries not to think too hard, the kids tend to overpay for things, and seriously why does a preteen and a child have this much walking around money unless they've got rich parents, in which case, why the hell are they hanging around him, noted criminal, unsupervised. The kids bring up lots of questions he doesn't wanna think too hard about.

Eventually the kids start hanging more around him and actually talking to him, and he learns a lot of things about them, that he didn't ask to know but these kids be babbling.

Their grandmother is the matriarch of their family, she's very involved in raising them, more than most grandparents are even in China, in part because their dad is single and very busy with the work his mother gives him. He learns that they go to the same private school one of his rehab buddies (Ao Lie) sends his kid too, and that their dad really likes plums.

The last one was obvious.

He also learns their names, the older kid is Xiaotian, but he goes by MK, and the younger kid is Bai He, which Wukong figures is from her white fur.

Despite his best efforts to not let these kids worm their way into his heart, they do, and now he's got to deal with having feelings about these two kids' wellbeing because it's been a while since he's felt something like that.

He's getting visits from these kids at least once a week, he has no idea what made him so interesting to them, maybe it's the scars, but he starts to not mind them being around.

Then, just shy of two years after being set free, and nearly a year of these kids hanging around, he finally meets their mysterious father.

It's Macaque.

Neither of them expected to run into each other that day, Macaque didn't even know about the rehab program, and he's under the assumption that Wukong had been released early.

Macaque desperately wants to talk once his kids are safe, there's some stuff happening don't worry about it they get targeted all the time it's why they have body guards, Wukong desperately wants to not do that.

He's not at all upset that while he was getting tortured, Macaque was moving on with his life like nothing happened and settled down with someone in his circle. Even though neither child makes mention of another parent for MK and only an offhandedly referenced one for Bai He, but he's really upset right now.

Once the situation is solved and the kids are sent back home, the conflict wrecked Wukong's stand and Macaque tries to offer help in fixing it and tries to talk to Wukong.

Wukong shuts that shit down immediately, he doesn't want to be involved with Macaque or his family, the kids included. He hasn't forgiven Macaque for anything, not the lies and certainly not letting LBD scapegoat him.

He wants nothing to do with Macaque.

Macaque however, doesn't want forgiveness, he doesn't think he deserves it, he just wants a chance to try and fix the mess he made and make things at least a little bit better or easier for Wukong in any way he can.

Wukong tells him he can fuck off and that'll make his life easier.

This does not work, obviously.

Because the kids are still visiting him and he's trying not to treat them differently just because they're Macaque's kids, and because Macaque is so fucking desperate to try to fix this.

Wukong really does just want to live a nice chill life with his cats, his rehab buddies and not be dragged into more of Macaque's family drama.

Things only get worse when LBD hears word of Wukong being released early, and then hears that her granddaughter has been spotted hanging around his vending stall.

She doesn't give a shit about MK, he was a mistake, Bai He was very carefully planned, she won't let Wukong ruin another one of her "perfect" children.

Wukong just wants to be left alone.

Hope you like this! Sorry it took me all day to do, as you can see I had a lot of thoughts.

Thanks for asking!

Taking name suggestions for this au