#daddy issues assemble

[taro-wong]

Was halfway through this comic when I realised it would be funnier with Steph, who’s punched BOTH her dads

[pax-former]

There are healthy bitches who call their father for support through tough times.

That’s nice.

That’s good.

That’s the kind of relationship you should have.

BUT.

HAVE YOU EVER.

AND I MEAN EVER.

TRIED TO IMAGINE YOUR FATHER FIGURE AND INSERT THEM INTO YOU IMAGINATION COMFORTING YOU?

THAT SHIT MESSES YOU UP.

LITERALLY.

[bi-writes]

ghost is such a daddy, isn't he? ;) too bad he's such a dick. (18+)

but it's hard to find a donor. you've been single for practically your whole life, it's the whole reason you're looking to just get pregnant by yourself. you don't need a man--you can walk into a clinic and pick from their little flip book.

but none of them fit what you're looking for. too short, hairline too far back, you don't care for the look in their eyes or the occupation they chose or their descriptions of how much they like model trains and reading george orwell every christmas. they're john does in different colored suits, and they reek of entitlement and the need for perfection and lack the individuality that you crave.

not special, no--you're looking for an edge. and none of them have it.

you're glaring at your lieutenant from three hundred yards away when your eyes soften with realization. ghost is such a bastard to you; he snaps at you easily, uses his obvious stature to overpower you in the most inconvenient of situations, and he always turns his nose up at you for being even slightly less than perfection, just a smidge off your target or just below your personal record.

he demands more of everyone he commands, but you in particular he likes to pick on. you used to think it was because you were the only woman around, but that wasn't it. ghost isn't a misogynist, he's just a right asshole.

but a gorgeous one. not in the way he looks, per say, because his face isn't all that pretty. you've seen his face, glimpses of it, enough to put the puzzle together in your head. he wears mangled skin, torn apart at the seams and scarred to high hell, but ghost is more than just stitched together skin.

he's huge. large and so fucking well in charge. he takes up space, and he does it with intent. spreads his legs when he takes a seat, crosses his arms over his chest when he's standing idly by. his expressions aren't visible under the mask he wears, but it is very obvious when he isn't happy. his glare burns through the fabric, dark eyes narrowed intensely; it is impossible to not understand when ghost is less than amused by you.

he's so capable. you've seen him take apart his gun and put it back together many times. big fingers sliding over metal and fastening it back together with practiced ease. you've seen him haul over two hundred pounds of man over a railing, seen him set up his sniper rifle and shoot a target more than a thousand yards away. he's smart, and he knows what he's doing, and even in the face of uncertainty and chaos, he's oftentimes the voice of reason in the field, and it's sexy.

god, he's so fucking hot. especially when he's rolling up his sleeves, showing off one sleeve of shitty military tattoos and telling the private that's practically in tears what a fucking muppet he is for assembling his standard issue pistol without a fucking magazine loaded into it.

that's what you want.

someone resilient. capable of overcoming tragedy, of finding purpose even when there really isn't anything to live for. the drive of bettering yourself, of not fucking it up, of being able to breathe easy and get out of a corner even when the path ahead is just more of the unknown.

unable to die.

"ever thought of being a father, lieutenant?"

he laughs, bitterly, licking the pad of his thumb before rubbing at a spot on the scope of his rifle.

"fuckin' hate kids," he mutters. "loud. dirty." he grunts. "besides. bloodline dies with me. don't need anymore fuckin' rileys mucking up this place."

you bite your lip. it's not the worst reason you've ever heard. it's just too bad he's exactly the kind of baby daddy you're looking for.

"that's too bad, lieutenant," you purr, standing up. you pass by him, your hips swaying and brushing against his shoulder. it's enough of a touch that his gaze follows you as you leave, his eyes flickering to the curve of your ass as you leave. "you'd make such a good daddy."

the fuck?

it's hard to focus. you keep bending over in front of him; dropping papers, picking things up, leaning over desks just to make his face twitch under the mask. you're constantly in his line of sight, wearing the tightest fucking shirts he's ever seen. cleavage on display, definitely a violation of protocols that no one is enforcing, and it's making his head spin as you lick chocolate off your fingers and swipe it off the curve of your breast. he thinks you must be mad when you make eye contact with him and keep it as you slip two fingers into your mouth and suck.

the worst was when he was stuck in the back of a humvee with you. the back was packed, soldiers pressed together as they rode back to base. he was sweaty and exhausted, leaning his head back as the truck rattled along the dirt road. on a particularly rough bump, you bounced into his lap, ass pressed back against his pelvis. on instinct, one gloved hand caught you by the curve of your waist, and you hummed as you leaned back against him.

"sorry, lieutenant," you had cooed, in that soft, honeyed voice he hated. "am i hurting you?"

"fuck you, sergeant," he had snapped, but his growl was cut short when you arched your back a little, nestling your ass against the fucking hard rock in his pants.

"just happy to see me then?"

acckkk, a fucking fiend, you are. pressing up against him when you slip into line in front of him in the mess hall. asking him for help because your aim is off, just to look at him from over your shoulder and give him that smile. the absolute doe eyes you give him when he berates you for the hundredth time that day, just for you to mumble back, "oh...yes, of course, sir..."

ngghhh...and he's thinking about you. thinking about smoothing a hand down your back as he bends you over a desk. thinking about what it would be like if you climbed over him on his cot and sat your fat ass down onto his face. thinking about the sounds you'd make, the big, wet eyes you'd give him, how good you'd look in his bed and wearing his clothes and cumming on his cock--

"the fuck are y'doin' ta me?" he growls in your ear. you blink up at him, tilting your head back, leaning against his door.

"johnny said you were training, so i thought i'd wait for you. got something real important to talk to you about."

you smile at him innocently, ducking under his arm as you slink into his room. when he shuts the door, you spin around to face him again, giggling.

"there's something i want."

"out with it."

"something i need."

"fuckin' tolk then, yeah?"

"want a baby, lieutenant."

"yeah, right mad about tha', luv."

"want your baby."

he laughs, humorless, "be fuckin' honest."

but you are honest. you're honest when you smile wider, and you're honest when you turn around. you're honest when you bend over onto your forearms against the cot in his room, and you're honest when you shimmey your trousers just low enough, right under your ass, showing off the wet cunt you've had since watching his arms flex as he stacked boxes after breakfast.

he steps forward, leaning over, smoothing two big hands up your plush thighs before spreading your ass, watching your little hole pucker. he smirks, chuckling low.

"'f y'want t'be a riley so bad, don't need to 'ave m'baby, swee'eart," he murmurs, but the echo of his belt undoing clinks in the room anyways. you squirm a little when you hear the zipper of his pants.

"but i want it," you whine, and you slide your arms out in front of you, pressing back against him as you grip the thin sheets on his bed. "i want it!"

"shhhhh," he scolds, gripping his cock with a calloused hand and shoving it between your thighs. you moan as he wets his cock along your folds, grinding slow, getting himself nice and slick. "y'want m'baby, swee'eart? wanna 'ave my cubs? gonna be bears, love. they're gonna split y'open, got such a little cunt."

you cry out, pressing back against him.

"want it! i want it!"

ghost chuckles again, laying over you, his weight pinning you down as he laces his fingers with yours. he's so big, you can feel him heavy and throbbing between your thighs. you need it, even if it doesn't take, even if he just takes you apart right now, you need it.

"you'll make such a good mama though," he mutters, mostly to himself. "fuck...you'll get so bloody nice and fat. nnghh..." he lets go of one of your hands to smack his paw against one side of your ass, gripping it tight and jiggling it. "every part of ya. right for the taking, luvvie. oll f'me."

he reaches down between you, notching the head at your entrance before sinking in easy. you're so wet now, dripping between your thighs, and he grunts as his hips meet your ass quick.

"tits'll get so big..." he smacks his lips together before giving you a heavy thrust. "fuckin' hell...takin' y'out afta this...gonna make you a fuckin' riley today. how's tha' sound, aye?"

you gurgle a little, a line of drool dribbling down your chin. he leans over, pushing his mask up, and he licks your spit off your face, his breath hot as he starts to pick up the pace, fucking into you quick.

"want y'just like this, every day," he growls in your ear. "in m'bed...spread out for me..." he sucks on the edge of your ear, making you cry. "gonna 'ave y'for oll three meals, swee'eart--fuck--until we know it takes."

you smile, your cheek smushed into the bed and rubbing raw against the sheets as he fucks into you from behind. his big hands squeeze your own, holding onto you tight, and you push back against him, your orgasm coming unexpectedly as he babbles in your ear about your tight cunt, your pretty face, the perfect place for him to empty his cock. it makes your vision go white, but you don't feel satiated until he holds his hips against you from behind and curses as he spills inside.

so creamy, slick and soft, but he refuses to waste a single drop. he keeps his pelvis against you, wrapping a forearm around your waist and yanking you up until your back meets his chest. you giggle, dizzy and a little drunk, leaning your head back against him.

"knew you'd fuck me," you mumble, sticking your tongue out, not satisfied until he leans down and kisses you, sucking your tongue into his mouth and kissing you wet and sloppy. he laughs, his chest rumbling, and you put your hands over his, scratching along his skin as he licks into your mouth.

"tha' right, luv? why's that?"

you giggle. "because i always get what i want, simon."

next

[g1rlken]

┏ Like real people do 2. ┐

Aemond Targaryen x wife!daemon’s daughter reader

⋆˚࿔ read part 1 here ˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

summary: blood and cheese, where daemon [the best dad (satire)] also orders for his daughter smuggled back to him, violent aftermath

an: there is no brothel Aemond subplot involved

word count: 5.2k

warnings: blood and cheese, canon violence, violence, daddy issues being mocked, arguments, once again blood and cheese

The war was afoot, degeneracies increasing, treacherous plans and endless councils. Amidst all of that y/n still found time to pay Haelena a visit as frequently as she could. Both of them had found impeccable friends in each other and the twins were always a delight. Striding through the halls of red keep, prodding her head inside with a soft knock on the queen's doors which were wide open as it is, "look!" y/n entered with a wide smile on her face. Twirling around she showed Haelena the dress she wore, it was a dress Haelena had embroidered for her with special spiders and other custom animals. Haelena had remarked on y/n's elegantly plain dresses, the edges could all use embroidery and y/n was more than glad to let Haelena design on her dress. "You made it so much better, the small bugs in blue thread it’s so beautifully assembled-" before she could comment more on the beauty of her queen sister's embroidery she was there to showcase, y/n was under attack of her niece and nephew, "why good morrow to you two!" she giggled as the two tugged at her dress for consecutive raise-me-ups. 

"I am very glad!" Haelena said offering her a smile as she scanned those designs, Haelena was warmly elated that y/n chose to wore the dress she had embroidered and the fact that she let her do it in the first place.

"You must teach me your ways" y/n commented whilst actively engaging with jaehaerys and jaehaera, she couldn't carry both the babies at the same time but she was trying to entertain them regardless, the two were latched to their auntie's knees like monkeys.

"I could always make you more, save you the time!" Haelena offered instead, she tried to distract whichever one of the children with a toy but both were way too smitten with their ever so busy aunt, now that she had the council she spent supposedly lesser time with the twins.

"That too would be so convenient!" Y/n said, Jaehaera was raised on her back, making mischief with her aunt as she tried to close her eyes with her tiny hands from behind. Both the twins laughing as she did so, regardless y/n laughed along trying to maintain her balance the best.

"That is enough..." Haelena trailed off in amusement as she helped Jaehaera off of y/n's back. The babe did not let go before whining about it, jaehaerys still tugging at his aunt's dress to get her to bend down so he could talk.

"It's alright" let out a small chuckle y/n's attention was caught down to the little heir pulling at her dress, for her to bend to his level. "Yes little prince?" She asked, attentive to her nephew's whims and demands.

"You said you were going to read to me" Jaeherys reminded her in a rather witty sense, having a sense of one upping her since she forgot about it.

"Oh did I now?" She paused for a second trying to remember when exactly was the reading session arranged for.

"Yes! The-the one with the fox and the-crows...where you do the voice!" The little prince was soon to remind her of which exact story they had left off from. He liked it better when his auntie read it to him than the wet nurses or his mum because she often did those giddy voices and the stories she read in were more entertaining than the ones with septa.

"Gods I must have forgotten" she said in a somewhat melodramatic tone to make the child think she took their reading session as a serious matter, "I have got some work on my hands at the moment but I assure you I will come continue the story-"

"When!" Jaeherys whined with a sort of tired expression given the delay in his story.

"Tonight." She answered genuinely, "Right after dinner!"

"Do you promise?" He asked wanting to take her aunty's word for proper surety.

"I promise." She said holding his tiny hands in hers giving them a gentle squeeze to assure him of her promise. Kissing both her niece and nephew on the forehead as she stood up, in attempt to take her peace Haelena stopped her.

"Are you not afraid?" Asked her sister in law with a tense look on her face, like those times when she would be out of it. As if she spoke another language and saw other things. "When the stones call you back?"

"What...what stones?" She asked, at first y/n thought Haelena was referring to some palace. Could this be in correlation to something with the council, is what y/n presumed.

"The stones. They will call you back!" Haelena gripped her elbows tighter, to emphasise the gravity of the situation she felt. "They'll take you away!"

"Nobody is taking anyone away..." y/n trailed off, shaking her head slightly as she ran her hand down Haelena's in a soothing way. "We are all safe here and there is nothing to be scared of. I promise you. I am not going anywhere." She assured her. Y/n assumed that it would worry Haelena to lose the best friend she had in herself if she were to go back because of the war waging. In her father's name perhaps, her worry was not unsolicited but y/n was sure her father's was a house not hers that is even before her marriage with Aemond.

Haelena could never seem to get her point across for some reason, she couldn't digest her wearies in a coherent way herself so she nodded with a small smile. The restlessness still consistent within her as y/n took her leave. Ever since the intimate moment with Aemond, their relationship had grown rather awkward. Aemond was closed off as always, unable to convey his infatuation. Awkward in this area, the young lovers found it difficult to navigate through a conversation. Bristling fingers through glasses, stealing glances, speaking out their love in small gestures.

That did not account for the fact that the council matters too seeped into the newlywed's marital bliss phase. Aemond too had a seat now, on the king's word. He would attend those meetings and at times the two would have drastically counter opinions. His lady wife, she would sit in the same line of seats after the hand and his mother. Speaking their minds against him, just as they had intended for her. A council within the council. "All you do is account for grand sire and mother, no such thoughts of your own. A mere puppet." Aemond scoffed as they were currently in a conversation in their chambers reflecting to that day's council meeting.

The day was at its end and as was y/n, end of her wits. His bickering was just what she needed, "And you?" she said in a tone more accusatory than his, rightfully so "all you add to the discussions is the warpath Ser Criston weaves."

"I stand for it, you just chew out what the council within the council spews" he scoffed, coming out harsher than intended but now this had become usual."I know you informed the hand of my meetings with Cole."

"Didn't do it as a snitch, had you asked me I would have told you I informed the hand." Y/n said trying to counter his condescending remarks. She wasn't a 'puppet' how he implied "Just because I do not agree with you doesn't make me a puppet to those with better judgment than yours."

"Better judgment than mine?" He let out a low huff finding it absurd that she believed Otto and his mother had a better judgment over the war than his, "you think writing to other castles, pleading, awaiting their help whilst we have three large dragons is a better judgement?"

"And what? What do you plan to do with the dragons? Burn all those against us?" She asked him growing agitated having this conversation again, "You are in favour of a lot of unnecessary bloodshed-"

"It is necessary. To make an example, to lay out a path." Aemond interrupted her, taking in a small breath "Raise your banners or watch them burn. This is what the blacks are already set to implement whilst we sit hand on hand sending out messengers!"

"You want to create a sense of fright! That is all you will accomplish with burning houses." She said in an assertive tone as she crossed her arms. This is what Ser Criston had told him too, the words struck him a small remembrance.

"Are you eavesdropping my meetings with Cole?" He questioned, as the reference resembled similar words to Cole's. Cole didn't exactly have the same notion as his wife but the words were vaguely same.

"You sit right across this room" she gestured to the adjoining room after their bedchamber. The small opening after their room led to the table against the wall where Cole and Aemond had their meetings, "The meetings you have after you assume I'm asleep, as it is too loud enough for me to not eavesdrop or be able to sleep."

"Of course" he couldn't help but roll his eyes, "You must have told the hand about it word for word yes? Like a parrot"

"Don't think of yourself too highly, your conversations are rather predictable even to those who aren't present" she replied. He wasn't wrong that she informed the hand about it but she took accountability for that.

"At least my conversations hold a spine" in two strides he reached the table she was leaning on to pour himself a glass of wine, "Unlike yours, but well that is what was intended for you" he shrugged.

For a moment, y/n sighed shutting her eyes "What are you implying?" She asked trying to maintain a calm composure because she was aware he would have words that would make antagonise her.

"You know, why you are in the council in the first place" he said in casual harshness. "Otto needed someone to voice his opinions like the righteous little lady that you are."

"I am on the council because of the seat I have inherited through my father." Y/n referred to the original conversation for her being on the council, he wasn't even part of that decision yet acted like he knew better than anyone. Smugly sipping his wine as he set his cup aside, the inherent smirk on his face irritated her to no end.

"You are claiming the father's seat who didn't even want to claim you?" He scoffed, Aemond could attest for the fact that he did not hate her in full surety. Rather fond of her too, but he was fond of his lady wife. The soft lover he did not knew he needed, big eyes that held love for everything they were laid upon. Tenderness and warmth seeping out the cracks of her which would mend the hollow cracks in him but it was the council member in her, otto's silent weapon which he could not stand.

In the process of wanting to get back at righteous council member he couldn't stand he truly hurt the daughter that begged for her world to sun, tears brimmed her eyes and she could not help it. She struck him across the face, the nerve of him. Shattered the home she thought she might finally have. He simply flinched at her action, his eyes widened a bit not at her gesture but at her tears. Registering her tears before the slap she landed her, at loss of words. "Leave." She spoke with a shuddered breath, couldn't even meet his eyes. Feeling stripped of the hope and pride she spent days building. Y/n had never raised a hand to anyone, that didn’t exactly harm Aemond in any way still the gesture in itself made her feel ugly after a moment’s silence marinated the interaction.

Without saying a word Aemond did leave, he didn't want to retaliate with her in any way. Because in that very moment both of them took a misstep and he did not want that moment to last longer. In a few strides he was out of their chambers. Y/n gripped the table to steady herself as the tears streamed down her face, a restlessness made home within her chest as she took heavy breaths.

The weight of all her despair was so heavy, at times she would just shut them in case and shove them deep inside her heart and inside her mind so she wouldn't have to face them in retrospect. It all just felt so inescapable, how she begged to be her father's daughter and how she was rejected the whole time. Now, farther away from him, bit by bit being at peace with the people she now surrounded herself with. Even in such state of distress she didn't feel alone any longer, she even felt loved. As far stretched as it sounded she even felt at ease with Aemond and he shattered all of it with just one sentence.

She lost the track of time since the moments of Aemond walking out as she just stood there falling apart, but when she felt some footsteps behind her she wiped her tears trying to compose herself. If there was anything she learned from her father it was that, nobody ever cared how much you fall apart so don't give them a reason to hold against you. Daemon always hated weeping children. Quickly she wiped her tears, she wouldn't want Aemond to think of her weak in these times. With a deep sigh she turned to face the footsteps she assumed was Aemond.

Apparently it wasn't. "Yes?" She asked with furrowed brows to the stranger who just walked into the room, not even a knock or an announcement like the guards or servants. The man wasn't even dressed like a guard or a servant. She stood alarmed taking a step further into the table as the man forwarded towards here without a word. "Guard-" she tried to yell as loud as she could but the man grabbed her head in a swift motion and shoved her into the table's edge. As if to knock her unconscious.

"Not another word or I kill you." Blood said with his hands around her neck, about to choke her as she struggled against him. Trying to grasp against his hands on her, trying to suffocate her she kicked her legs. Tried to scream regardless of his warning. With an extreme distaste for her, obviously, in blood's eyes the princess wasn't even worth so much and too much trouble to smuggle out. "Your daddy wants you back."

-

By the time the guards did find the princess, in the hallways, she was already half unconscious. Immediately rescued into the safest place in the keep, the council. Retrieved but not at all unharmed. The council was already set into course for the subject of the young prince when Larys walked in with y/n. He had previously informed her of what had happened with her nephew, his passing it hadn't really struck her yet given she could barely process all that had happened.

Queen alicent gasped as she stood up quickly running to y/n's side, all the bruises on her face, open cuts and bleeding out the torn sleeves in her dress. "Gods..." she exclaimed in horror as she helped her onto her seat. "What happened to her?" She asked Lord Larys.

"The guards found the intruder, trying to smuggle the princess out of the keep. A gold cloak known for his brutal nature, found with her, having inflicted his brutality upon her and...the prince's head, in a sack." He briefed the council as they all listened to him, everyone else but the king at loss of words. As Lord Larys left alicent was still tending to y/n, cooing at her, she seemed to be in a half conscious state.

"I am alright" she muttered to her mother in law as Alicent nodded but held her hand in hers to provide her whatever consolation she could. Just the sight of having suffered such assault sent the queen into a huge distress. Weakly holding her hand back as if to steady herself into this nightmare. When Lord Larys told her of Jahaerys's tragedy she did not believe it at all. She was confidently positive there must be some mistake in his information because that would not be possible at all.

If it wasn't for Aegon screeching in the background, y/n couldn't make out if she was actually awake in this very moment. The ringing in her ears still hadn't gone out and she wished that she would perish with that same ringing if it were to happen because living through this seemed so difficult. No way to navigate, circumstance so heavy she felt paralysed to meet anyone's face. Aegon was screeching as he wept for his son, blind with rage to kill the man found guilty for the crime. The member advised otherwise saying the king has a lot of enemies and they don't know for sure whose hand it could be.

"I suppose you are right..." Aegon trailed off slowly pacing down the table back to his seat, with an accusatory demeanour towards everyone else "it could be anyone of you, in this room."

A small silence fell, strengthening the tension and grief in the room as y/n just stared at the empty seat beside her. That very morning, just the day prior, where her nephew sat. Then Aemond after him, empty now. "It was Daemon." She declared of what she knew for sure, first time in her life she referred to Daemon with his first name instead of her father. After everything that he did, every misery she endured at the hands of her father, what happened now made her want to be distanced and foreign from him as much as she could. "His doing." She breathed and looked at the council, the drained colour on everyone's face she just registered-it was blinding her. "The man—the gold cloak" she continue, "trying to get a hold of me, h-he—he said 'your daddy wants you back.'" Repeating the words sent a chill down her spine as if she was in that very moment again, she still felt those hands on her, suffocating and heavy. A disgusting play in the mix. “That man came here, on Daemon’s order.”

The rest were comprehending that still, how a man could be so crude not only killing a child but having his own assaulted and kidnapped back home like this? " In one sense, as we determine what happened and...if we in the keep are still in peril. In another sense of course...it doesn't matter." Otto said and looked at Y/n. The princess surely did not seem to understand the hand's implication.

However Lord Tyland did so, "You mean to blame Rhaenyra." He said in a beat. "Tell the realm she had done this." Tyland spoke out Otto's implication.

"I'll have the realm told nothing! We were assaulted within our own walls, within our own beds!" Aegon spoke up almost immediately "Y/n, my brother's wife! The fucking princess almost beaten unconscious—being smuggled out?" He emphasised on the word brother, enraged even for his sister in law and the lack of his brother's presence when it must have mattered the most. "I will not be seen as weak!"

"You are already seen as weak aegon." Otto replied once again sending the king into a manic breakdown as he threw around more cups and vases. Otto theorised about how important it was to name Rhaenyra as a cruel person. Killer of infants, despite of whose direct orders those were. The narrative would be what they made.

"You would change, the blood that is on daemon's hand just to spite Rhaenyra." Y/n questioned, red eyes and characteristically on the verge of tears since she walked in here. Alicent found it so hard to look at her face, the cuts and bruises, poor thing. The heavy torment inside her head must be unimaginable, Alicent thought whilst holding y/n's hand a bit tighter. It felt like one of those moments when she was just a child, so many years ago. She would recall, the girl child was such a loner, always speaking in short words that is if spoken to. The shy little girl, who would just sit in a corner and colour or read. So much like her Aemond yet so different. When they would be in public settings, too many people, she would meekly hold Alicent's hand. Amongst all those unfamiliar faces. Little y/n just deemed Alicent familiar, comfortable. What was so wholesome years ago held such horror now. Alicent holding the lady's hand to provide her comfort her words won't be able to, the protection she could not. "Why won't you paint that man for the monster that he is?!" Y/n spoke as her voice broke, it felt unfair. Daemon not being held accountable yet again.

"Because, Daemon isn't the pretender to the throne. He would be the king consort. Banners are being declared for Rhaenyra, not in his name." Otto explained, to his preference narrative was just a useful toy. One name here or there did not make a difference.

"That is unfair." She said shaking her head, tears brimmed her eyes, taking in short breaths. In all these council meetings she did not speak up against Otto considering him respectable and more learned yet today, "how can you keep on accounting for him...again and again?!" Y/n asked but she was begging in agony. "Y-You were here. Always present. And you never did anything—all his heinous crimes! You always had the opportunity to hold him responsible and you did nothing!" She exclaimed, not being able to help herself as she thought back to a conversation at this very table. A conversation she must not have been there for, but the hand would have.

"It is perhaps your shock and grief speaking for you." Otto replied, not moved by the young lady's accusations at all. "I for one, do not understand your place of reference"

"When he murdered my mother!" Y/n said, growing more and more restless with her speech. Otto must be right, it was all the piled up grief inside of her speaking for her in this very moment but she could not let the monster that was her father be off the hook again, "You could've held a proper council, had him pay for what he did and we wouldn't be seeing this day today! We have that chance now and yet again you would rather Rhaenyra take the blame for his barbarism!"

Otto felt silent for a moment, the girl's rage was justified to the extent of him having no answer for her but he knew to trust his wit more, "I cannot undo...my regrets. I assure you I hold a lot of remorse in having a part in letting daemon go from daemon to the rogue prince and now this...monster. But if we don't do this, he would become king consort. The word consort is a feeble adjective." What he said was supposed to make sense to y/n but she could not see past the rage and need for vengeance she held against her father. Looking away, she wiped her tears. "A funeral progress. Let them see the child. Let them look upon the works of this pretender to the throne." Otto proposed once y/n was assuming-ly settled.

"Father" Alicent said with weary and concerned eyes, such tragedy being shouted out as a public funeral procession sounded so vain.

"My king..." Otto waited for Aegon's presumedly understood voice.

"No..." Aegon answered firmly "I will not have my little son's body dragged through the street like a dead dog." As he said that y/n felt nearly faint. To this very moment she did not accept that the child had passed.

"Not dragged, honoured." Otto corrected. "Escorted to the dragon pits to be burned as a Targaryen prince!" Otto went on and on about how he loved his grandson, his heart was in the right place with the grief yet the path he set was in accordance with the warpath. Just plots and schemes. Falling silent, paralysed y/n looked down to her lap. She refused to even register this conversation because it meant registering the fact that a darling child, Jahaerys...was gone.

Aegon couldn't stomach this proposal which came as an already arranged firm announcement either, looking around the room nobody said a word against the hand's plan. "You would say nothing?!" He demanded of y/n, why won't somebody help this mad notion. "Your dear nephew, have you nothing to add?" He was almost begging, hoping she would get the hand to change his mind for this funeral procession. She didn't, y/n just looked up at Aegon and then Alicent, tears in her eyes which just didn't seem to stop flowing. "Mother." Aegon called out when y/n couldn't speak up.

Leaving y/n's side Alicent walk's up to aegon, "the hand sets a difficult path, my darling. But it might be the right one." She told her inconsolable soul.

"Let the silent sisters ready the prince for his final journey." Otto said without waiting a moment for the king or anyone to come forth with opposition "And riding behind him, his mother the queen, the princess and the queen dowager."

"No, I do not wish to be spectacle." Alicent opposed instantly, the weariness and fright in y/n's eyes speaking the same "Especially y/n, not in this state. She can barely talk-stand, she has been terrorised. You can't simply—"

"The realm must see the sorrow of the crown. A sorrow best expressed through its gentle souls." Otto said followed by alicent sighing, then he looked at the side to y/n, "We need to display our heavily victimised as well" he said, the bleeding wounds on her face seemed like little trophies of sympathy to Otto. "I think you'll all agree the king himself must be spared."

-

A deafening silence lingered within Aemond, he had been out, sharpening out his swords, practising. Fucking practising on jute bags when he should've been there. Y/n was in Alicent's chambers because she could not walk into her own, couldn't even take in the sight of it. The thrashed furniture, from her struggling against the intruding gold cloak. The...the sack. In which he had stored the boy's head. Where the man had placed it in her chamber, at the entrance, it had created a circular stain of blood. Jahaerys's blood. She could not even think about the room within those four walls without picturing the insidious crime. She sat on the floor against the bed, windows open and soft white light of the day seeping in yet to y/n it still felt like a night of hailstorm. She didn't even look up to the footsteps of the stride coming inside the room, Aemond. He walked to her, kneeling down to the floor to her level.

Aemond was drenched with so much guilt in his heart, he felt pathetic to even breathe the same air as his lady wife. She had her face turned away from him, he could just see the small cuts on her face, the torn dress, still seeping out dried blood, her weary stature. It was all mortifying in the first place. He was so livid, with himself, with the intruder. Even with Larys, who informed him about the happenings at the last. By the time he rushed back inside the council was already done with. He had nothing he could say to y/n, no way of consoling her either.

It's not as if she would want to be consoled by him too, the emotional support he would want to offer her walked out with him when he walked out after their fight the previous night. With the disturbing things that had happened with her, she had almost forgotten the words he said. She couldn't even remember why she was crying before it all, that sick with grief. Aemond gently held her chin, hesitantly afraid she would turn him away. She had every right to do so. She didn't move him away, had no energy to do so. His heart sank as he saw the blood streaked stitches, poorly done and most of her wounds left untreated. "Why are these open?" He asked her softly, referring to her wounds, "Where are the maesters?"

"The hand, has asked for these to be left raw as they were planted." Y/n briefed him, her voice was so wavering, all that crying. "He means for them to be displayed for the funeral procession...so the realm can see" y/n scoffed softly as she repeated otto's exact words.

"You don't have to go." Aemond told her in a firm way, sure that he could get the hand to change his mind whether he liked it or not because y/n's comfort was his priority.

"No..." she trailed off, in agreement refraining to look at him her voice held no emotion. "But I do. I have to." She continued "Wouldn't want Haelena to be alone"

"Mother would be with her." Aemond added taking her hands in his softly, finally getting her to react to his presence as she looked down upon his gesture. Apparently to take her hands out of his grasp.

"But then I would be alone here..." She trailed off, a hint of frustration and fright in her tone. "I don't want to be alone."

"I would be with you, y/n." Aemond cooed softly fixing the loose strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear as he leant forward. “You won’t be alone.”

"I find myself unable to put faith in you, Aemond." She breathed looking down, she felt like a cornered animal, just so scared and full of distrust. "...in your assurance. I'd rather not."

Aemond had nothing he could say to that. She did not trust the integrity of his principles and rightfully so. He knew he had broken that trust of security within her. "My heart, I apologise for the distress I have caused you. I did not mean any of it" he told her but the heaviness in his heart told him his words would change nothing. She couldn't talk either, bursting into tears and her stitches seemed to hurt because her face moved but she was so much numbed to the physical pain in comparison to how she felt inside. Aemond could just offer her his embrace in this time and that is what he did. Enlacing her into her arms, rubbing her back in soothing circles her let her cry into his chest. "They will pay for this." He muttered softly as he continued to hold her. Even with the pain he made her feel, the distrust and hurt she felt just in seeing Aemond could not let her turn away the familiarity of his comfort. His was the only comfort she had ever known.

-

Once again clarifying that the brothel subplot is absolutely NON EXISTENT in this fic Aemond Targaryen is a lot of things but not a cheater <333

Pls let know what you think about this + added to the tg list🫧

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🏷️ @love-is-a-dagger @daddzawa @1109002 @void21 @annedub @teapartydreams @batmans-love @ih8books @oopsdownloadedrumblragain-blog @aemondwhoresworld @unsweetenedpeatea @immyowndefender @aleemendoza2425-blog @vane282-blog @atargaryenlover @targaryenswhxre @sabii5 @vibescanner @darylandbethfanforever9

[paraphwrites]

inspired by that one answer from mr zack, i give you- season 11 of dbda, a baby is left on the gang's doors.

edwin is, immediately, team hire a ghost nanny. "we are not the dead boy orphanage." he storms off to re-shelve books. however while he is reshelving he stumbles across some parenting books and decides to read it to simply educate himself, as they may be stuck with the lifeform for an entire day. anyway three hours later edwin's at the local magic book shop, hair horribly tousled, demanding all of their books on child-rearing, parenting, and how not to permanently traumatize your child. he also questions modern medicine and what the current amount of cocaine is best to be used to counter colds.

charles, on the one hand, is totally trying to collect baby toys and make sure this kid has the brillsest childhood ever. but also charles is terrified to come within a meter of the baby, because what if he manages to traumatize him? what if he really is like his father? he decides to distract himself by assembling some ikea baby furniture. it... does not go well. jenny finds him, distraught, hiding in the bag of tricks, and tries to calm him down. in the end it is decided that abuse is likely not contagious, charles probably will not traumatize the infant by being in the same room as it, and charles is no longer allowed to go to ikea.

crystal immediately decides to track down the shitface who left their baby in the hands of four teenagers, a millennial, and an interdimensional scottswoman. crystal is actually moderately successful at solving this case, via a combination of a tracking spell, facebook, and taking on the identity of three different instagram influencers. when crystal does find the parents, she gives them a proper tongue-lashing --she's really using all of her daddy and mommy issues here-- and she's properly going at it for at least seven minutes until she realizes the parents are fucking dead and that's why they can't care for their baby. a horribly emotional conversation is had, as the parents basically apologize for crystal's shitty parents, and how this family could never move on until they knew their kid is safe and well-adjusted and happy.

niko is trying very hard to set up a nursery but she keeps getting derailed by various side-quests, because there are some interesting people vibing about a babyshop. in the end niko is roped into solving 2 cheating scandals, setting up the cashier and the stockwoman, resolving 1 money laundering scheme within a fabric store, befriend 3 separate pet birds, set up 1 pet bird owner group chat, officiate a wedding between two adorable 5 year olds, resolve a generational long feud between these two very wealthy families, and adopt 4 cats. she does not, however, find the fabric for the quilt she was going to make. or instructions on how to make said quilt. but someone who knows how to make a quilt now owes her a favor, so maybe-

jenny is actually not paid enough. she's literally not. she sees the baby, asks if they should call CPS (resounding "NO") and then fucking walks away to hang with her harem. however she does make sure the baby is securely with the night nurse, and makes sure the night nurse knows that if they need absolutely anything to call her immediately. while jenny is out, her harem and her do buy all the non-essential but fun baby items (clothing, accessories), and jenny is coerced into getting matching items.

god look the night nurse is trying her damned best, but everyone else is so fucking busy that the raising of the child falls onto her. it's a damned good thing the principal had made everyone learn about the species they were gathering (one to eighteen year old humans). so the night nurse just kind of girlbosses parenting. and, where credit is due, the baby is relatively non-problematic. they end up keeping the baby so the night nurse just walks around with a babycarrier on her chest. charles carries the baby's diapar bag -- he fully could put it in his bag of tricks, but the two backpacks makes him feel very adult and parent-y. everyone lives happily ever after & the baby is raised excellently & becomes someone in the lost & found department.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝟑𝟖𝟏

Toji Fushiguro

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[Chapter 12] Toji's Second Job

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Getting something for Toji is a task that you find impossible. You’re not sure what kind of gift he’d appreciate. Your big issue with Toji is that while you think that you’ve got his personality right, you’re not too sure about his interests; so when it comes to buying something, you’re completely clueless. 

You’re making him a cake, cooking something special for him, the last thing you’re missing is his gift. You have no idea what to get him, and since Toji is back to work in new years, you’re taking care of Megumi; no one knows Toji better than Megumi. Of course, you hadn’t thought it through.

“What do you think your daddy would like for his birthday?” You ask him, his eyes are just focused on the buttercream that you’re working on. He sits on the counter while you’re working.  He licks his lips, his mouth salivating at the sight. You chuckle, “Megumi, I’ll let you taste the buttercream if you tell me what you’d think your father would like.”

“Um… Your teddy bear.” Megumi answers, pointing to the big bear that you have in your apartment. You chuckle, and you tilt the bowl so he can stick his finger in and get some of the frosting. He gave you an answer, just not the one that you were expecting. Maybe a shirt is good enough.

“Thank you for your help, Megumi.” You pat his head. Once he gets the bit of frosting, he asks to be put on the floor and you help him down and watch as he runs to the TV. You keep thinking about what you should get for Toji though, even though a shirt should be enough, it isn’t. He’s the same man that got you a charm bracelet for the holidays even though you weren’t expecting anything.

Toji isn’t expecting anything from you but you still want to give him something. Maybe when Megumi is asleep in his apartment you can… No, sex isn’t a birthday gift. You’re completely empty, and you try to occupy yourself with the cake that you’re making. A shirt will suffice.

You’re doing more than what you intended, and definitely more than what he expects. You just have to finish the cake and you’ll go out shopping with Megumi to get Toji’s shirt. Maybe you’ll go to his apartment to look at the size he wears (most likely a large or extra large) before going shopping.

“Do you want to go shopping, Megumi?” You ask, and he’s too focused on the television to care about what you’re saying. It makes you laugh; you’ll repeat the question later, but now you have to assemble this cake.

Your phone rings, and you almost miss it, but thankfully Megumi hears it. He breaks from his trance and walks over to you, holding up the phone that displays Toji’s name. You pick it up, a smile on your face before you mutter a thank you to your little helper.

“Hey, Toji. What’s up?” You greet him. You watch as Megumi walks back to his spot, ready to continue watching his show.

“Hi…” He sounds embarrassed. You wait for him to say something else because you’re not going to repeat yourself. “I’ll be showing up late.”

“Late? How late?” You ask him. You don’t want to spoil the surprise, so you’re just hoping that he doesn’t have to work till too late. He tells you the time, and it’s a bit late but you can make it work. “Alright, I’ll see you then, Toji. Megumi and I will have so much fun without you.”

“You’re mean.” He responds with a chuckle. You laugh as well, saying your goodbye and hanging up the phone. 

You stare at the buttercream of the cake, and realize that you have a lot more time to spare now.

There’s a knock on the door, way past midnight. It awakens you. You realize you’ve got your arm thrown over Megumi and you’re both on the floor. You get up from the floor, a yawn escaping your lips as you stretch. There’s another knock, and you begin to walk to the door. It’s probably Toji, who’s way too late. He told you a somewhat reasonable time, not– Your eyes fall on the digital clock that you have. You squint your eyes and read it. Three in the morning.

You open the door to find Toji, a sheepish smile on his face. He steps into the apartment to pick up a sleeping Megumi. His eyes fall on the counter, where he finds a plate of cold food, a plate that was meant for him. He picks up Megumi from the floor and goes back to the door. He bites down on his lip before muttering, “Didn’t think it’d take so long.”

“You’re fine.” You try to smile at him, your eyes closing on their own. You yawn again and point at the counter, “There’s some food there for you, you can heat it up and eat it if you’re hungry.”

“Okay, thank you.” Toji responds, he takes the plate of food. He walks out of the apartment, and you shut the door. You lay down on your bed, and your phone brightens up. You can’t help but pick it up to see what it is. It’s just a stupid notification for a game but then you notice you have multiple messages from an unknown number.

You’re about to turn off your phone to go back to sleep, assuming it’s just a stupid scam but your curiosity gets the best of you. You unlock your phone and click on the message. The images wake your half-asleep-self back up. You’re wide awake.

“That lying son of a bitch.” You say, looking at the pictures. You really can’t believe it, the man that swore he wasn’t dating is right there.

He’s all dressed up, his arm intertwined with another woman’s– The same woman that you accused him of dating. Momoko. They’re smiling at each other. You swipe to see the next picture and he’s pecking her lips. You feel your stomach churn and you drop your phone. 

You want to run to the apartment next to you and pound on the door, letting him hear a piece of your mind. You manage to take a deep breath before laying back down on the bed and shutting your eyes. It’s not worth it. 

You’re not wondering who sent you the images, you just know that you’re so fucking pissed off at Toji. You’re fucking jealous.

You hear a knock on your door again, and you know it’s him. You’re thinking of just ignoring him and trying to fall asleep. You’ve set your mind to it, but he knocks again. You’re raging, you doubt that you’ll fall asleep so it’s best to handle the situation now; so you get up from the bed and open up the door to find Toji much more comfortable.

“Hey… The food was good, I meant to–” He begins, and your blood boils as you hear him speak. You can’t handle just standing there emotionless.

“I know that you were on a date with Momoko!” You burst, and his eyebrows furrow. He looks confused, and you’re starting to wonder if that was actually him in the pictures. Maybe your heavy eyes saw wrong, and it wasn’t him. You almost believe it when he responds,

“What are you talking about?” You step into the room to get the birthday bag with his gift. You hand it to him before sighing. 

“That’s your birthday gift.” You tell him, and he looks inside to find a shirt. It has nothing to do with your current conversation, but you don’t want to hold on to it. After taking a peek at the shirt, he goes back to your original conversation.

“What do you mean about Momoko?” He asks.

“I don’t know who but they sent me pictures and–” You begin, and he bites down on his lip. Maybe he should apologize for lying to you, but that’s the last thing he’s going to do.

“That’s not your business.” He says, and you raise your brows. You’re taken back by his response, and you feel tears well up in your eyes. You have no idea why he– He’s so fucking confusing.

“I thought we had something going on, Toji. You kissed me yesterday… Not even just that. I spent my entire day taking care of your son free of charge, baking a cake for you, cooking dinner, I went out of my way to buy you that gift. The least I deserve is an explanation and not a lie.” You tell him, fighting back your tears. Toji bites down on his tongue, not sure how to respond. He’d give all his money away to be able to know what to say right at this moment, but he doesn’t. You chuckle, trying not to cry. “Would you look at the time? I should go to bed.”

“Wait– I swear Momoko is no one.” He stops you when you begin to walk away. It’s three in the morning, the main thing in your mind should be sleep, especially since your eyes are closing on their own. You shouldn’t push for an answer, you should let him go back to his apartment to sleep and continue a cordial relationship with him. Yet you still say,

“Right… That’s why you were kissing her.”

“Show me these pictures.” Toji orders, and you purse your lips together. You stare at him for a moment, unsure if you want to actually show him. You still walk to get your phone, and you pull up the pictures. When you hand him the phone, he takes a deep breath. It’s him. There’s no way he can deny it.

“I don’t care if you’re seeing her, just don’t… Try to get with me or lie to me about what you’re doing.” You respond, and it’s taking everything in you to not burst into tears. Toji sighs, and he’s trying his best to figure out what to say. “I’m tired, Toji. I don’t know why I believed you.”

“We’re not dating.” Toji says, even though he saw it clearer than day how he kissed another woman.

“Do you just kiss random women?” You ask him, and his lack of response makes you shut the door but his hand stops it. You’re not ready for the words that leave his mouth next.

“I’m an escort.”

[tremendum]

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Me and the Devil; v

(not my gif)

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previous next series masterlist

word count: 8.7k

summary:  "Paul's breaths are as sharp as yours; both of you like wild, scared beasts being hunted by something you cannot see. Something in the back of your mind tells you that you should not be wasting your anger on each other."

warnings: canon-typical violence, blood, v light smut, brief oral (m!receiving), choking, height difference mentioned (paul is taller), more mommy & daddy issues, nothing else i can think of but always lmk if you see anything.

notes: back with another chapter! Paul and r are once again Confused by everything that is happening, and keep going back and forth with each other,, But they're learning to use their words <3 Referendum is nearing closer and things are beginning to happen!:)

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Houses Prepare to Assemble for Landsraad Council

In preparation for next week's Space Trade Referendum, representatives from across the galaxy have begun to prepare their travels. This pivotal meeting, set to take place on the planet of Kaitain, will see the great houses Major and Minor deciding on crucial matters, foremost among them the future of space trading routes.

Along these decisions next week will be the final arraignment in the case of House Bourbon, as well as proposals to establish standardized protocols for resource extraction and deposit of space debris. Expected to be on the agenda is the recent and surprising disruptions in Spice supply, which has forced the Spacing Guild to explore alternative fuel sources in preparation for the increased traffic of intergalactic travel for the Referendum. Nexarite and Petroleum have been suggested by Guild engineers: Though Nexarite proves to have dimensional warping implications if used at lightspeed, petroleum is secondary and similarly less effective. 

Pressure has befallen Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, whose governance over the planet Arrakis holds him with the most power in the Spice trade; While petroleum may serve as a stopgap measure in the absence of spice, its inherent limitations underscore the urgent need for a sustainable long-term solution to the galaxy's energy consumption.

Will there be a decision drawn up at this Referendum, or will the scarcity of spice thrust the market power of these new fuel sources? 

- Collected Galactic News report sent to Duke Leto Atreides, 10191. Caladan. 

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You wake up with a gasp and fly upwards.

The sun is still slumbering - the sky a deep royal blue, castle so silent you can hear the waves crash against the cliffs below. You swallow breaths as they lurch down your throat, fighting off a cold sweat, a haunting; Paul's eyes - the fear, the recognition. Familiar.

You find the pitcher of water that was left for you and down almost half of it straight from the glass, letting it dribble from the sides of your lips as you gulp, the drops sliding over your damp skin and onto your trembling breasts. 

The wall is stagnant under your gaze - there are dried lingonberries that remain on your resting table, harvested fresh for you days ago. You don't know why you asked Hestia to keep them there when she was cleaning. Their sickly scent infiltrates your mind, stomach turning queasy. 

Mindlessly, you blink back the images of Paul's gasp, the blood flowing from his porcelain skin, the gritting of his teeth as he'd slumped against you. 

You're very troubled.

In a moment of weakness, you almost pull your robe on to seek Paul and tell him, but a nervous part of you suspects he may already know what you dreamt. The look in his eyes was so.. familiar; as if... 

You swallow hard. Perhaps you should have just told him. Told him all of it, even if he already knows it - about the breeding programs, about the selective mating, the Kwisatz Haderach; The reason it was so quickly approved for you to become Paul's child-bearer when Feyd-Rautha was no longer an option for you.

Fuzzily, you try to recall the nagging familiarity that his words yesterday had left you with. One of two, he'd said. You chew on your lip until it is raw. 

Guilt swirls in your stomach, but you stay put, sitting still below your bedsheets, staring silently ahead. I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. You repeat the mantra over and over until the sun rises over the cliffs, burning a bright orange and pink haze into the center of your vision. 

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Late in the morning is the Strategy Council - once again struck with a bout of fuzz-brain, you're half-asleep as you walk into the chamber, eyes seeking only one person. There has been nothing on your mind all morning - even when Hestia had entered to find you wide-eyed and spooked, when she had whispered of some castle gossip that you didn't listen to. 

Paul's chair is absent.

Your stomach drops as you slide into your own seat, blinking in surprise at the emptiness across from you. As Duke Leto enters and begins the meeting you try your hardest not to think too much about Paul's absence; Lady Jessica's eyes are on you intermittently, not serving to ease your worries. 

When Duke Leto speaks, the sound cuts through the hushed murmurs of the assembled council members. Your eyes meet his.

"Before we begin our discussion on the Space Trade Referendum, there is a matter of great importance that we must address." He's kind, stern; kind, in a way that makes you look back on your own incompetent, nearly absent father with regret. 

The Duke's gaze softens, "The arraignment of House Bourbon is set for the day after the Space Trade Referendum, and I believe it is imperative that we address it with you accordingly."

You blink in shock; you've all but accepted the fact that you might become a criminal within the next week and would have to beg the Atreides to buy your bail in front of the noble Landsraad Houses- you didn't expect to discuss it, though, and certainly not at a Strategy Council.

You've been ignoring this moment ever since news of the charges against your house and the consecutive assassination of your family had reached your ears; but there's no avoiding it now.

"Of course, sir," you reply, steeling yourself for the difficult conversations that lay ahead. "I'm ready for whatever measures need to be taken."

He nods. "The council and I have discussed it, and I am fully committed to advocating for your house's interests during the arraignment on behalf of House Atreides." He leans forward, "I plan to do everything in my power to convince the other houses to see reason and vote in your favor as well."

Given the political complexities surrounding the case, you raise your brows. "This might put you in a precarious situation, my lord," You start, throat dry. "I appreciate it more than you'd know, but..." You look around at all the faces; all of them but enemies to you weeks ago. All of them, loyal to the end of the House; the House that is claiming you as one of their own, even in the looming presence of what might come. "The Harkonnens are- well, they're powerful - not that House Atreides is not, but-" You flounder under the scrutiny of attention and for the first time, you feel small, embarrassed in front of them all. You're not sure what's gotten into you; gritting your teeth, you realize that Reverend Mother Helen has gotten into your head without even seeing you on her visit. 

"-We understand your concerns," Lady Jessica speaks up. "but you are now a part of our house, and we will protect you." 

You can't help the surge of gratitude washing over you; nodding, you concede. "House Bourbon has long been allies of House Atreides," Gurney Halleck says, his stern eyes meeting yours, "this is a return of the favor." 

"Thank you." You say, voice sounding almost warm for what might be the first time in front of the council, "Your support means more to me than I can express." You wish your mind was less consumed with your visions; perhaps then you'd feel truly appreciative of their gesture. You force a smile onto your face, hoping it comes across less as a grimace. The Duke nods, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"I cannot speak for the other houses," he admits, his tone somber suddenly. "But I fear there may be those who seek to exploit this situation for their own gain."

You expect nothing less, nodding in agreement. The great houses are not in your good graces, and you not in theirs. 

"Whatever the outcome, you have the support of House Atreides behind you." Duke Leto says firmly, eyes meeting yours with unwavering resolve.

As the subject is laid to rest in preparation of the upcoming off-world travel, you try your hardest to listen and absorb the information about the Referendum next week.

You'll be leaving at the end of this week, in only a few days - half of the Duke's council will attend for the Referendum and the conferences, and you must go for your own arraignment. 

Trying as hard as you can, you cast away the turmoil that spins around restlessly in your stomach - staring hard at Paul's absent seat, you can't stop thinking. Even as the meeting continues, you go through the motions and relay your own input with a hollow voice, eyes downcast. 

Pain in his voice, gasps of sharp, labored breathing. 

The glint of Feyd-Rautha's skin behind him as blood spills. 

You need to find Paul. 

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Your luck is struck within minutes of the council's conclusion.

Immediately after the Strategy Council is the first of likely many wedding planning meetings - significantly smaller in party than the Strategy Council, but infinitely more intimidating for you. 

You never got any say in your wedding with Feyd-Rautha; likely why you remained living on Giedi Prime for four cycles and never actually married. He chose rather to train and attend strategy councils about spice and Arrakis or more often concerns on-planet; when he did consider the wedding, he would often disregard your opinions and insist it was only important after you gave him an heir. 

Not that you've ever been keen to marry anyone, but what say does a girl have in such a matter? 

Nevertheless, you are more than relieved to attend, solely because you're sure Paul cannot miss this meeting; if anything, because his parents would chastise him like a petulant child. 

The Duke walks with you back to his own quarters, making conversation politely. You find a surprising comfort within his voice, even if you're still on edge - perhaps because of this, you actually succeed in making him laugh once as you mention your interest in learning to pilot a ship; He himself wanted to be a pilot when he was young, you learn. 

You settle into your seat with a grace you don't quite feel; the room is more intimate: in the Duke's new study, at a round table with five chairs, four of which are occupied within seconds. 

Paul's eyes have been on you since you crossed the threshold - an intent gaze that has you shifting, meeting his stare head on when you settle. He looks similarly spooked but there is an anger that simmers, bubbling low. 

You want to ask where he was this morning; why'd he miss the council, when he'd clearly planned to attend not twelve hours before? 

His own eyes scream at you; clearly, he also wishes to speak with you. You open your lips to say something, anything to him. Your dream - he has to know, he must.

But Duke Leto breaks the silence before you can. "Thank you both for joining us. This is our House Administrative Assistant, she helps us plan events." 

You introduce yourself to the woman; She is kind, very serious but jolly at the same time - you wish you could be more present, but your brain is not willing to cooperate. Perhaps as a defense mechanism - the prospect of planning a wedding is thoroughly uninteresting to you, to be tied inexplicably to Paul; More present than this, your thoughts and opinions are overclouded by the more pertinent threat of war, economic or otherwise, being planned by the very sisterhood you were raised to be a part of. 

They have their hands everywhere, especially in the great houses, and you do not wish to see the roles designed for you and Paul within their plans. 

It is then that you realize the last chair is likely for Lady Jessica, who has foregone this small meeting.

Vaguely, you wonder if the Duke and Paul can tell how unsettling she is to you; it's nothing against her, actually - her loyalty to her house as well as the sisterhood is admirable - but perhaps she reminds you too much of your past. Of your own mother. 

Easily, the coordinator launches into discussion, outlining the initial plans for the wedding; it will be an evening event, with most of the court and family invited - you barely hold in a sardonic laugh at this, looking solemnly at the ground. Shall we invite my father to walk me down the aisle? you think bitterly, recalling how hard his body had hit the sand in that arena, the sickening way his head snapped back. 

You listen as intently as you can, nodding along as she discusses potential venues, guest lists, and ceremonial traditions.

"And now, onto the matter of your family's traditions," the Coordinator says, turning her attention to you; it jolts you from your own thoughts, images of a blood-stained blade, a gasp for breath, brown curls. "We'll be sure to incorporate them into the ceremony as you see fit."

You hesitate, brow furrowing slightly - she does not seem like she's planning on listing them now, so you're unable to pretend you know what to expect; sheepishly, you clasp your hands against the table. "I must admit, I am not as familiar with my house's traditions as Paul is," you confess, casting a glance in Paul's direction. 

His eyes meet yours; tilting his head, his eyes almost chirp, I offered you the book. You glance back, I know. His lips press into a fleeting grin and for a moment, your stomach runs cold as if he'd actually heard you. But he hadn't. 

You can't ignore when the Duke's lips twitch into a subtle smirk of his own; you fight the flush of embarrassment that creeps into your cheeks as he takes in the information, nodding slowly. He mustn't misinterpret your bond with Paul as romantic interest - instead of a keen instinct for survival at all costs.

"Is that right?" He asks his son, who nods curtly, almost indifferent.

Your eyes cast away, wondering when exactly it was that you started to see yourself on Paul's side; was it when he'd offered to share lunch, or when you'd seen those books about your house and homeplanet on his bedside? No, certainly not. Those are much too trivial; while charming, you know better than to trust a man on such frivolities.

Perhaps, more likely, yesterday - when he'd told you of the Bene Gesserit plans, of the visit - when you'd told him about his own mother. Or, the dreams.

While no amount of sexual fantasies could genuinely sway your opinion on an enemy (the Bene Gesserit in you has seen to it that sexual manipulation can only go one way), the other parts - the more unpleasant ones...  

You're rather restless.  - after the dream last night, you're not sure who to trust, or if you should tell the Duke; Paul may be the only one you can trust with this information, regretfully.  

"Whatever rituals you deem fit will be incorporated into the ceremony. We're planning for it to take place in a month, just before the end of the galactic year." Leto says, watching you for your response. "Perhaps you two can review them and work with our coordinators after you've decided what seems right." 

Paul nods dutifully, eyes flickering to you.

Your stare is intent, wishing to convey the urgency you feel to end this foolish meeting and get somewhere private, not caring one single bit about any rituals or ceremonies. It's all means to one end, isn't it? 

"Do you still have the book on Bourbon Customs, Paul?" You ask, voice just as emotionless as usual; it feels as odd as it sounds to discuss something that might normally excite a wife with the tone of such boredom, but you truly have way more important things to be talking about. You hope he can read between the lines you so delicately convey. 

"Yes." He affirms, perceptive and intelligent as always; sitting up, he starts to address his father and the coordinator, "Perhaps we can meet after the Referendum to further discuss the wedding - in the meantime, Lady Bourbon and I will discuss which of our house traditions we'd like to perform at the wedding." 

You let out a microscopic breath of relief at the pleased look on the Duke's face; he dismisses the small meeting, but Paul is rushing out of the room quicker than you can even stand. 

With as much effort as you can harbor, you exchange short pleasantries with the woman beside you and the Duke before rising to follow after Paul briskly, trying not to be too obvious. 

Within the dim hallway that leads to Paul's quarters, his cloth tunic looks nearly gray.

"Paul." You call, your shoes clacking on the stone as you try to catch up with his stride; pausing slightly, he allows you to catch up to him. Your name is breathed gently, his voice sharp with importance as he pulls you with him towards his room. 

You stumble to catch up with him, caught off-guard by the fearful, angry energy that radiates from him. He is calculating, quiet; this has not changed, but there is a heat in his sharp glare that alarms you. 

"It was you." His voice is quick, whirling around on you - for a moment, there is a darkness in his eyes you haven't seen. He doesn't have to elaborate for you to swallow, staring up at him.

"Yes." You affirm, "And you..." 

He nods so microscopically; your heart flips. It's silent, heavy with the realization in his silent bedchamber.

"It was normal, at first." He starts, shaking his head smally, "but then... suddenly we were standing there and- I felt it." He mutters, watching you intently. His jaw clenches. 

"I know it was you. You used this." He rips away your robes from your left hip and it slides from your shoulders; affronted, your hand comes to halt his wrist, snapping him away. He expects to see the same engraved hilt - you see it in his eyes - but, where there is usually the black leather of your nameday knife, today there is just your waistline.

He stares down, eyes cold. 

You couldn't bare to take it with you this morning when you left; you could barely stand to look at it as Hestia had dressed you.

His eyes rove over your figure slowly, as if expecting to find your blade snugly hidden in some curve of your skin; no avail, as he reaches your own strict gaze. There is heat in your abdomen, but you ignore it for the fear in your veins. 

He dreamt that you stabbed him. He didn't see Feyd at all. 

"I didn't..." You shake your head, "I didn't stab you." You insist. He looks off towards the wall above your head, sighing sharply, "You did in my dream." 

"-No." You argue, "He was behind you," Your voice is a hushed whisper, so close to him you can almost feel the warmth that radiates; there is a fuzzy electricity in the room that makes your fingers itch as you release the grip on his cotton-bound wrist, pushing his grip away from you. His hand flies back like it'd been burned by your touch, anger seeping through his lashes. 

"Feyd-Rautha." You clarify, your own jaw setting, "He was there, holding my knife." 

Paul's brows furrow. "You stabbed me. I felt you, with me. You were there." He insists, shaking his head. You swallow thickly, "I know I was there. You aren't listening to me."

"Why should I?" He snaps, staring at you with distrust, "If Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen was there, why didn't I see him?"  

"I-" You tug at your hair in exasperation, "Fuck, Paul, I don't know." you hiss. 

Such implications strike your heart with dread; and if your dreams with Paul are inexplicably intertwined, a beat of fright hits you - for once in your life, you wish beyond your world that Feyd-Rautha has been finding seamless, dreamless sleep recently. 

You are dimly aware of the slight chill upon your bare shoulders; the tank-top you've donned, cotton like Paul's, is breezy without your robes to cover your exposed skin, and the material pools lazily around your bent elbows from where Paul had disrobed you, searching for your dagger. 

"We can't risk telling my mother," he murmurs, his tone laced with urgency, "If she learns of our dreams, she'll never let us pursue Sabberon if the Harkonnens take it."

Begrudgingly, your fears are mirrored in his words and you run your hand over your face, "So we just hope she can see through our lies? Paul, you know just as well as I that it is a near impossible feat." 

Paul hesitates- there is a shadow in his eyes, a dark looming thought you wish to unearth. "She'll stop at nothing if it means going against the Bene Gesserit's plans for us. We just- we don't know which path that is."

Your voice is steely with resolve, "I won't let them dictate my future." Not when the rest of the galaxy is going to do so next week. 

Before Paul can respond, the distant sound of footsteps echo down the hallways outside and he guides you slowly backwards, away from the hall. Near the bedpost in his room, he stops and leans to whisper closer to you; his curls hang unruly in front of his eyes, not styled like it typically is. He looks slightly rumpled, as if poor sleep has rendered him consumed by thoughts. 

His eyes flicker to the bedstand and back down to your eyes, "I think you need to let my mother train you." 

You blink, inhaling sharply, "You don't know what you're saying." 

Somewhere in you, you know he's right. He sends you a look, "I do, and you know it. Even if we can't lie to her, we need to stay sharp. Maybe we can find out what the Sisterhood wants from these dreams, because they're clearly important to them. We have to be prepared for whatever happens." 

You lift a brow, "And if nothing happens?" 

"You believe this all to be in our heads?" He asks, eyes genuine; a plead, a small hope that perhaps all this danger and concern is for nothing.

Your sharp sigh is answer enough.

He continues. "You wouldn't have brought up the Harkonnen petroleum reserves for nothing. Or the materials on Sabberon. This threat is real, and even if it isn't, our dreams are." He insists this, and you cross your arms. 

"You sound like your mother." You snap. "She believes everything Reverend Mother Helen Gaius Mohaim says." 

He stares at you incredulously, "You were in my dream, were you not?" His voice is stern and it sets your teeth on edge. "Unless we unknowingly consumed Spice last night, I think that was pretty real." 

You are not a fan of the sardonic tone he takes - he's right, but it does not soothe your concern. Paul has been raised to become a Bene Gesserit by his mother - a male Bene Gesserit? The only reason for that lingers in the back of your mind; perhaps if you continue your learnings, you could remember. A phrase whispers to you, but you do not know what it means. The Shortening of the Way. 

You briefly entertain the thought that Lady Jessica has slipped something into your morning teas - some Spice-laden elixir that makes you and Paul dream together - but this is a childish thought, an escape from the harsh reality of destiny and fate. You know these things to be true, because you know it was woven into your DNA centuries ago. 

"I think this is a bad idea." You say honestly, relieved to have the freedom to argue with your husband-to-be without the real threat of having a throat slit or tongue removed. "Why should I trust your judgement?" 

He huffs smally, "Why should I trust yours? You try to kill me in half of my dreams." 

You glare sharply, "Well I haven't killed you yet, have I?" You snap, growling at him.  

His glare is sharp, hostile. "I know my house better than anybody, and I know my mother just as well." He says, "You and I will train with her together. We need to find their plans out ourselves, and this is the only way. We will just ensure Reverend Mother Helen Gaius Mohaim is none the wiser." 

"You are a fool if you think she will not catch on." You insist.

His jaw sets. "I have trained my whole life to make decisions like this."

"And yet, you make the wrong one."

"Watch your mouth." His voice is ominously quiet, taking a step into your personal space. "I will be your Duke one day." His chin tilts, ever prideful; you scoff. Defensively, you bristle. 

"-and I will be your duchess. That means but little to me, my lord." You retort, leaning towards him; You're close enough to smell the soap on his skin again, the anger, the fear that radiates in beats of his heart. "I did not ask to be here, if you recall." 

Even a sneer looks somewhat graceful on his face. "That means but little to me." He parrots back, eyes sharp, "You're here, so you will do what I say." 

Fury rages in you; his voice is deep, more commanding than you've heard yet - your jaw clenches, not backing away even with him towering over you. 

You're mine to keep. There's plenty of life left for you to serve - the voice in your mind warps, though, the ever-haunting rumble of Feyd's voice morphing into Paul's smooth, low one - fear and resistance sprout within you. 

It's an impulse, a trauma response. You barely think. Your hand moves, palm open flat - aiming to strike him on the cheek, to slap him hard. 

But to your shock, he catches it with reflexes quicker than you can imagine, fingers wrapping around your wrist just before it makes contact with his skin.

Eyes angry, his nostrils flare and the chimes that hang near his bedroom window tinkle gently as energy slips around you. His lips move before you feel the Voice. 

"Don't." 

The Voice sets your spine straight and your teeth on edge - still considerably weak in the skill, his command is combatted by your urge to drop your wrist as you stare at him, beyond bewildered. 

He told you yesterday that he's been trained by his mother - until now, you haven't really considered what this means - he possesses the skills to use the Voice. He is keenly intelligent and, by your suspicion, being trained by Thufir Hawat in more than just tutelage, but also as a Mentat; an unlocked secret tries to worm its way from the back of your mind. 

Your spine shivers. A phrase whispers in the back of your brain, a fear long-nestled and roused awake after years of hibernation: Kwisatz Haderach. The Shortening of the Way. 

You shake yourself of the sudden trance, trying to wrench your hand away but failing by his surprising strength and grip on your wrist. You know you should tell him but you're too presently angry, too absorbed in your own fear and pride. 

Using your free hand not caged by his hold, you shove hard against his chest, until he hits the wall with his spine and skull; wincing, his grip on you only tightens as you fight to free your hand. You glare at him, on your tip toes as you hold your palm flat against his heaving chest, feeling his heart thud against his sternum. 

"No man holds power over me." You say, pressing harder, wrestling your wrist away from him to no avail; he maintains a firm, furious grip on you, his eyes sharp, watching you. "You are no different." 

His breaths are as sharp as yours; both of you like wild, scared beasts being hunted by something you cannot see. Neither of you are truly trying to fight: Tired of running but knowing you've just started. Something in the back of your mind tells you that you should not be wasting your anger on each other. 

His eyes still have that sinister stare; serious, calculating. 

"It should not be a man you worry about." He whispers, head tilting down to you. His features are dark even in the light of day; "Despite what we feel about them, the Bene Gesserit give us power." His grip is tight; guiding with his heart, defiance in his eyes. Your lips part, arm relieving the pressure against his chest, still making sure he doesn't move otherwise. 

His brows furrow, jaw set. "You should be accustomed to living with the enemy, anyways." 

It's a slight against you; you grit your teeth - he's right, though. The Bene Gesserit is not an enemy, per se -both of you know this, but the sisterhood is dangerous, and if you aren't careful, this whole thing might completely backfire. 

There's a moment of silence as you consider his words, the weight of your situation pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket; Paul is right - you can't just go blindly and without training that can help you in the future, no matter how fiercely independent you both may be.

You almost relent, but in the silence your arm drops and Paul's - still holding your wrist tight - follows until he holds your arm stiffly between you. In the tense silence, your other arm slides off of his chest slowly, your eyes flickering to where his hand still holds your wrist; as if genuinely concerned you might unsheathe a hidden blade and plunge it into his stomach in the blink of an eye. 

"Paul?" 

The voice belonging to neither of you makes you jump in shock; Paul similarly jolts, both of your heads snapping to the entryway where Lady Jessica enters, a servant hovering nervously behind her with a laundry basket in her hands. 

"-I'd like to speak with you about-" 

Her words trail off as her eyes flicker towards the two of you; your face burns, jumping away from Paul as he drops your wrist like a dead stone, jumping from the wall. 

Your stomach flips in fear. How much did she hear? 

Paul glances at you sharply, your heart pounding; it was as if she knew that you were speaking of her and the Bene Gesserit. Had she heard anything? How silent was she when she arrived in his quarters? 

She averts her eyes at the sight of the two of you so close - at short glance, possibly appearing as if in some kind of embrace - but unfortunately her gaze lands on the bed right beside you; there is a faint blush coloring her cheeks. 

You share the fleeting glance with Paul, a silent understanding passing between you; Despite the true nature of your conversation, the proximity of the bed and the... intensity of how close the two of you could be easily misconstrued as something far more intimate.

Which might actually play in your favor. 

She presses her lips into a thin line, "-Apologies. I didn't realize-" 

Paul clears his throat, shaking his head. "No, Mother, you're not interrupting anything," Paul assures her quickly as he moves away from the bed; another quick glance at you once again shows his fear of being caught talking about her.

You wipe sweaty palms on your trousers, hoping she can't see your hands shake; The embarrassment of her and the servant thinking you were becoming intimate is better than her becoming suspicious of your whispers and secrecy. You're nearly shaking with fear at the prospect of her overhearing your plot. 

Thankfully Paul holds the same thought. 

"We were just... discussing some matters of importance." He utters, clearing his throat as he reaches to adjust the robe of yours he'd knocked askew minutes before. You play the part just as well as he does. Smiling sheepishly, you pull your robe tight around your frame and duck your head. 

Lady Jessica nods, eyes narrowing slightly. "Well, I was just hoping to chat with you while you walk to your weapons lesson, Paul," she said, her tone even, "I didn't realize you had company, my apologies. I'll leave you to it."

"-no, please," You interrupt as she turns; she stops, turning back to the two of you. You flash what you hope is a convincingly kind smile, pulling further away from where you stand next to Paul. "I was just leaving." You insist. Your heart beats hard in your throat still, but you turn to place your hands on Paul's shoulders. He stares at you, shocked as you lean towards him. If it were a different situation, you might've chuckled at the alarm in his eyes as you near him with your lips. 

Your breath hits his cheek as his head cranes down slightly to meet you, sensing what you're trying to do under the awkward attention of the others in the room. "Find me later." You whisper, barely more than a breath, against his cheek. His curls tickle your lips gently.

Playing the part you peck his skin slightly over the sharp cheekbone, eyes flicking over his shoulder to see his mother avert her gaze politely. You hope, to the servant and Lady Jessica, that it looks like you're bidding him a good day - a flushed, embarrassed lover caught in an act of passion and taking her leave. 

How simple life would be if that were the case. 

When you pull back from him fully, his cheeks are a dusted rose color - a good actor, then. He nods tersely, watching as you spin on your heels and bow to Lady Jessica, smiling at the servant slightly as you slide past them, hurrying down the hall towards your freedom. 

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Paul does find you later, in the afternoon when the sun is hidden by misty clouds.

Out in the gardens of Castle Caladan, the season is ending with the year and the plants that bloom are resilient to the less rainy months that come. Your feet are bare, your dress long as you stroll, unaware of his presence. 

Odd to see you so relaxed - your hands smooth over stone figures within the garden; he walks up behind you silently, murmuring your name when he's close. 

You jump slightly, acting fast; pressing with your full force, he's caught off-guard and shoved against the hedges which line the area. Catching his footing, his hands stop you - one on your hip, the other around your shoulder. His thumb dips against the hollow of your throat. 

There is a misty rain that falls lazily from the clouds in the sky; serene, quiet. Your breaths intermingle, your hands against Paul's chest. "I dreamt of you this afternoon." You say, voice faint. He hums, tilting his head at the fuzzy feeling. "Did you?" He asks; his voice is far away. You nod, leaning towards him like you'd done earlier - you brush his own lips instead of his cheek, and he feels far away. 

"I dreamt of you in a large throne room..." You whisper, lips just barely brushing over his, your hands roving over his chest. His own squeeze you; the one around your shoulder slides to hold your neck, the one around your hip holding you close. "One I've never seen before." 

Your lips ghost over his neck then, head tilting back to the misty skies. "There was spice in the sand that tracked in through the entrance..." You whisper, biting at his skin; he feels like he's floating. His hand squeezes the softness of your throat. 

"You sat on the throne atop the stairs," You whisper, suddenly sinking lower - your hands tug his belt, now on your knees before him. He does not fight the arousal that swirls within him, instead letting one hand gather your hair from your face. Your eyes are bright - for a moment, they're glowing a blue he's never seen, but you blink and it's gone in a hazy fog. He cannot seem to make out many features of your face, even as he blinks. It feels as if he'd swallowed cotton. 

"-and I, between your thighs." You whisper, lips moving to mouth over his trousers; he lets out a groan, growing more hard by your touch - his hand squeezes and he's not sure if it's against your throat or your hair; you let out a mewl either way and it floods him with desire. You've never made a noise like that before, and he would quite like to hear you make it again. 

Throne room? He starts to say - he is not so vain as to ever desire a throne to sit on - but the feeling of your warm mouth around his cock has him groaning, forgetting his words as he gasps-

Paul wakes up, sitting straight up -drenched in a cold sweat from the breeze that flows coolly through the open window. His chest heaves as he blinks at the wall ahead, disoriented and thoroughly discomfited. 

"Shit," He whispers to himself, head falling back against his pillow.

He can hear the misting beginnings of rain - he must have slept for a few hours, because the sky was clear when he returned from his lesson with Thufir Hawat, intending to lie for just a minute. 

The sun is hiding near the ocean; he must have missed supper. 

Groaning, he forces himself up and into the shower, where he stares ahead at the wall silently and lets the ice-cold water soak through his skin. 

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

When he finally drags himself out into the castle, he has no luck tracking you down - done with lessons, you're likely in the dining hall or in your own room eating supper. 

He checks your quarters first.

Walking in hesitantly, he calls your name and casts his gaze to the ground, wary of what he might catch glimpse of should he burst in unexpected. 

"Paul?" A voice calls, but as he crosses the threshold into the room, he sees it is not you, but another familiar face. 

"Oh, hello." He says, nodding as Hestia stands near your dining table - packing up the remnants of dinner. He eyes the two sets of silverware and dishes, noticing a crumb on the corner of Hestia's cheek; You've been taking your meals with her nearly every day since you arrived here. "Have you seen her?" He asks, trying to remain formal. 

"Who?" 

He gives her an unimpressed look; she rolls her eyes with a sigh. She's surprised to see him, he can tell. It shows on her face. "She just left for the gardens," Hestia says, crossing her arms suspiciously. "Why do you ask?" 

His head tilts at her, "Is it odd for me to wonder where my betrothed is?" 

She gives him that look - the all-knowing one, the one that makes him wonder if they really are siblings. She knows him much too well. "Yes, it is odd, Paul." She's blunt; she'd never dare speak like this to him in front of members of the House court, but in their own time or with his parents, Paul insists they're equals. 

"I didn't even know you talked to each other." she snarks, lifting one brow.

Normally he might entertain her teasing, but his mood is quite sour on the subject of you and he'd rather not hear more chastising about your strained relationship with each other.

He shakes his head, turning to head towards the gardens.

"You should watch your tongue, Hestia." He says half-heartedly. He ignores her laugh as he leaves, walking quickly to find you. 

It doesn't hit him until he's in the garden, walking down a path that feels oddly familiar: It's just like his dream. 

Cheeks heating, he rolls his eyes; Coincidences won't kill me, he thinks, but you might. 

When he sees your figure, he's extremely relieved to see you completely bundled from head to toe and sitting on a bench, looking up at the darkening sky, squinting in the mist. When he's still a safe distance away, he calls your name. 

"Paul." You say curtly when your gaze finds him. You pat next to you - a surprisingly child-like action as you scoot yourself slightly. "Sit." 

He does. It's silent for a moment, in which the wind blows his curls around just as it does yours; it's evening, and this late in the year it is already growing dark. 

"I told your mother I'd like to train with her." You say, staring up at the sky again. "I don't think she heard what we were saying earlier." 

His shoulders relax at this; fear had shot through him at the prospect of his mother discovering the reason behind your sudden willingness to cooperate.

"She seemed pleased with me. She suggested we start after the Referendum." 

Paul expected his mother would suggest this; With only a few days until several members of their House leave for the Referendum and your arraignment, there'd be no real time to start again until after. He knows better than to say I told you so, but he wishes to. 

The thought of your arraignment has him turning to look at you, noting how your eyes look against the green of the grass, the dark of the sky, the soft light from the castle. 

"How do you feel about it?" 

You do that odd exhale from your nose again, shaking your head, "You must know how I feel about the Bene Gesserit by now, Paul." 

"No," He starts, tilting his head to look sidelong at you, "the arraignment." 

Your face changes, but you say nothing. He takes a breath. "The Baron is a cruel man." Paul starts, "You know we will do everything we can to make sure he does not sway the opinions of the other Houses." 

To his surprise, your lips morph into a soft smile; a rare one, very uncharacteristic of such a cold, strong woman; it doesn't make you seem any less fierce, though. "You're so much like your father." You say, voice shockingly reflective. He doesn't know why you choose to say it. A moment of hesitation before you speak again, surprising him with your words. "You're going to be a good Duke." 

Praise does not seem to come easy from you, nor does it from him; He lets himself be vulnerable for a moment and admits to himself that it is a good thing you are so headstrong and sharp-tongued. To keep him in check. He knows your argument earlier this morning was too far; both of you were anxious, stressed - truthfully, he's glad you are willing to push back. 

"And you'll be a good Duchess." 

In the quiet of the garden, not daring to meet each other's eyes, you huff a short laugh of doubt. He doesn't bother arguing with you about it. 

"I know House Bourbon doesn't have any real power over Sabberon anymore, but it is still by decree under my family's sovereignty." You say; he nods as he stares off into the hedges across the way. "-when I lose it officially next week, it cannot go to the Harkonnens." Your voice is hollow. "They are unfathomably evil." 

He knows - but, he realizes as your finger traces over a scar fading on your hand, he doesn't know like you do. He's seen that knife now in person and in dreams; he's studied enough to know the kind of ritual one must go through to get one. A nameday knife for a future bride of House Harkonnen - because that's what you were going to be, once upon a time. He's read about it, and it is not pleasant.

For a moment, he remembers you when you'd arrived on Caladan; teeth sharp and voice distrusting, a woman ready to lash out at any moment. A beast, you'd wanted everyone to think. 

You're not a beast. 

Confusing, dangerous, foreboding- sure. But you're just a girl, as he is just a boy; thrust into the hands of the powers way above your heads. There is real fear in your eyes when you speak of the potential for Harkonnens to gain power over the trading markets; real fear when you confess your dreams to him - real anger when he'd accused you of stabbing him; Real breath from your lips, upon his ear when you'd kissed his cheek earlier. Yesterday, real tease when you'd poked fun at his bedside reading choices. You are real, and you are stubbornly human. 

Giedi Prime had forced you to build layers and layers of walls around yourself; it's still quite disarming to see glimpses of the woman inside. 

"My mother's half-sister is Lady Ginaz." You say; both of you know that he knows this, but you say it anyways, fingers picking at the concrete under you. "She's sent me letters again. They were destroyed before I could read them on Giedi Prime." 

He lets you speak, listening intently. House Ginaz; another old ally of House Atreides. 

"I think... if we end up needing anything, like more fighters," You lick your lips. More fighters- the prospect is indeed chilling; House Atreides has great legions of soldiers, but you're right. If they war against House Harkonnen, it'll take everything they can find to maintain power. 

"-I could try to convince her to send all of the Swordmasters." You whisper, sighing. A beat, then you quirk your lip up so fast Paul wonders if he imagined it. "We'll have to invite her to the wedding, of course." 

Your humor is dry and hollow, but it still makes Paul crack a wry huff. "Looking forward to giving input into every aspect of the event?" He asks, feeling a freedom to poke at your shared misery - it's the least of your worries, and it's not so bad if you're in it together. 

Your smile shows nice teeth, full lips. "It's a good thing our house colors are both green." You hum, turning to him, "No decisions to make there, at least." 

He nods, "More time to decide what kind of ribbon to use for the handfasting." 

You look off towards the same hedge across the way that he finds so interesting. "Whose tradition is that, mine or yours?" You ask. He blinks away a raindrop as it slides onto his eyelashes. 

"Yours." He affirms. You nod thoughtfully, and Paul is plagued with the visions of you below him, looking up with those wide, big eyes - just across the garden to the right. He blinks away the thought. 

"I thought you were Bene Gesserit when you came to Caladan," He says, "And I knew what kind of power you could hold over me if you were." 

You look at him, a fire in your gaze. "And you're not afraid of that same power your mother holds over you?" You retort. He sighs; both of you, quick to irritate. 

"She loves me. She'll try hard to protect me, and if she knows that we dream of death, she will not let us go to Sabberon." He says. "You don't love me. If you were Bene Gesserit, and knew what path the sisterhood intended for me - for us - you wouldn't hesitate to encourage it." He admits, and feels no particular heartbreak at the concept; you barely know each other. You look similarly unaffected. 

"I don't know the path." You sigh, "But I suppose I'll be Bene Gesserit again soon." You mutter, voice imbued with regret. 

The air is chilly, and a short breeze moves a curl into his eye. He brushes it away. "I know you don't think we're doing the right thing by training with her." Paul says, unable to ignore his thoughts on the subject. "But what would you have us do instead?" 

You sigh, shaking your head. "I don't know." He watches you, how your hair - unstyled, natural- glints under the night, moving with the breeze. "But it feels like we're walking straight into a trap."

Paul's brows knit together in frustration, his jaw clenched tightly. "We don't have a choice."

"I understand that," you reply, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. "You don't have to keep saying it. But how do we know what to do if we don't even know the Reverend Mother's plans? At what point do we start causing harm just because it's what we think we're supposed to do?"

 He shakes his head, head aching. He wishes to sleep; To wake up to find it was all a hallucination - to roll over in bed, and find none of this happened at all. "All we can do is play our hand and hope to come out on top." He says stiffly. 

You are bitter, crossing your arms. "That's easy for you to say," your voice is eerily calm. "It's all means to your end. You shouldn't know anything of the Sisterhood, but you've been taught. You've had everything handed to you on a silver platter."

The accusation hangs heavy in the air between you, a silent condemnation of Paul's privileged upbringing and the stark contrast it poses to your own struggles; he knows how hard you've had it - but at the end of the day, you are still a Lady, a highborn member of society, marrying into one of the most powerful houses.

He does not know why his mother has tried to train him in ways that only sacred Sisters should know; For a moment, he wonders if you know more about his own destiny and that overhanging prophecy than you let on. One of two candidates, a voice whispers in his mind; You have more than one birthright, boy. 

The air is significantly more tense, irritated - angry. He doesn't care to continue this discussion anymore.

"I don't know why you pretend to know anything about me," his own voice is sullen, sharp. It's foolish for him to waste his time trying to convince you that what he says is right - if, in the end, you might betray him anyways, going in circles is getting him nowhere. 

"Me neither." Your voice is cold. 

There is nothing left to say; in three days, his House will leave for the Space Trade Referendum, and you will be representing your House for the final arraignment.

Paul wants to sleep - to sleep, and not dream. 

He leaves you in the gardens, surrounded in the dark. 

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That night, when Paul dreams of you once again, below the great Pine that burns and cracks above his head, there is a hiss that blows in the wind. When you keen against his hands, your chest trembling and hands on his shoulders, there is a whisper, something that you cannot hear. 

A sense of duty surrounds him as images of the planet he's never visited flash before him. A knife, glinting - a hand, pale, curling around the hilt - your own sharp gasp of pain.

Some whisper in the dredges of his vision, you are too deep in the throes of passion to stir at the sound; Paul hears it clearly, though it is not meant for him. 

It is a deeply eerie voice - playful, sinister.

"I will never let them keep what is mine, my pet." 

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follow @tremendumnotifs for updates.

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[nothazellevesque]

the thing that works about baldurs gate is that individually, each companion would be the most insufferable bitch in your group project group, yet they all have to work together:

Shadowheart is preachy and hides relevant information from other group members- imagine working on a group project and one of your group mates doesn’t tell you that she’s got a resource that can help you finish the project until you’re already a third of the way in. girl why

Lae’zel believes in her own supremacy over everyone else’s. imagine a working on a project with a group mate who she insists that the entire project be done her way, and she shoots down everyone else’s ideas. yuck. plus, she’s extremely devoted to her queen, so she’s like a teacher’s pet. but like the teacher’s pet for the teacher that’s going to get fired at the end of the semester for trying to murder a student

Astarion- has a tragic backstory, which, cool. but he’s a massive flirt, likes trickery and manipulating people for his own gain, and doesn’t believe in helping others for the sake of helping. imagine working on a project with a guy who tries to extort you or just feeds you incorrect information any time you ask him for help. and that’s not even getting into the whole “literally needs to drink your blood” thing

Gale- fucked a goddess. so massive teacher’s pet. plus he’s got a massive ego and seems to think he’s smarter than everyone else, not to mention his whole goal of “being the greatest wizard”. he’s like the guy who says on his first day of work that someday he’s going to run the company, and any time you have to work with him, he’ll talk about how things will be different when he’s in charge. sir take several seats we work at the same wendys for minimum wage

Wyll has daddy issues and makes deals with devils about it. plus he’s insanely stubborn, complains all the time about how he’s reaping what he’s literally been sowing this whole time. imagine working with a guy who complains that he’s failing the class when you know he’s sitting in the back of the damn classroom watching superhero movies every day and thinking about how he wants to be a hero. sir please god stop watching spider man two and plotting to murder your classmate so you can help me finish this

Karlach has anger issues and a bloodlust that is honestly lowkey terrifying. she WOULD be the kid who snapped in class and threw shit at the teacher. imagine working with a girl who wants to use your whole project to enact revenge against the people who have wronged her (aka your teachers). hellish. plus wyll wants her ass DEAD

and somehow, these six nightmarish bastards have been assembled to do a group project. and if they (and you) fuck it up, the world literally ends. absolute comedy scenario

[sunkissedscribbles]

Prejudiced - Chapter Seven

this is only a part of the series, the previous and next chapters can be found here

a/n: a little later and shorter than usual but here is the new chapter, hope you'll enjoy it <3

word count: 1880

tw: alcohol, drugs, not proofread, ki's daddy issues<3, cassie's weird ass (but valid) urge to push her tongue into mattheo's mouth

summary: new obsessions for ki and cass unlocked

<previous chapter next chapter>

dividers by @chachachannah

Today, 30th October is the day everyone's been excited about for more than a week - well, almost everyone, as Kiara had other things (or other people, rather) to obsess over.

It all started this Monday when the fliers announcing the arrival of the competing schools were put up, reading this:

The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving at 6 o’clock on Friday the 30th of October. Lessons will end half an hour early. Students will return their bags and books to their dormitories and assemble in front of the castle to greet our guests before the Welcoming Feast.

Kiara was sitting next to me that morning in Astronomy class, telling me about her dream from the previous night in which she had some hot fun with Snape – who she even referred to as 'the daddiest daddy' (not my cup of tea but who am I to judge?) when a man we've never seen before entered the room, causing girls to start whispering behind his back, and Ki to tug on my sleeve before putting her most charming smile up as she began to ask questions such as 'who are you?' and 'what are you doing here?'. At first, I had no idea either but as it hit me, I began to pull on my friend's robe to stop her before she could have asked or said something stupid in the haze of her newfound interest in the new teacher.

"For fuck's sake, Cassie," Kiara barked at me.

"Five points from Slytherin, Miss...?"

"Bianchi," Ki next to me replied in a mutter, dumbfounded as she realized it too.

"Sebastian Harper. Professor Sebastian Harper," the man continued as he turned to the class, to which Ki next to me bit her lip to shut herself with an embarrassed blush. "I'm going to be teaching you Astronomy for the rest of the school year."

"Cool, we finally got rid of Sinistra," someone said from behind and I have a feeling it was McLaggen – who else?

"Professor Sinistra is still teaching at Hogwarts," continued Professor Harper, "and don't for a second think you'll have an easier job with me."

I frowned to myself as I thought about how unusual it was to have a change of teachers (if it's not DADA, of course – with that, the weird thing would be if we had the same for over a year,) especially mid-term. But strange things happen, innit?

I was shaken out of my thoughts by a sudden grab on my arm, to which I hissed quietly as I turned to the source of the sting; Kiara, looking at me wide-eyed as she whisper-shouted "HE HAS TATTOOS!" This was when I turned to the teacher standing in front of the chalkboard with his back turned to us. He wasn't wearing a robe, I had just then noticed, only a button-up shirt. Its sleeve rode up his forearm just enough to reveal his tattooed skin and I shook my head at Kiara with a quiet, barely audible chuckle, then leaned closer to her with a grin. "Now who's the daddiest daddy?"

"This god right here," she muttered back to me, her eyes never leaving the new teacher's arm. "But Snape's still second," she turned to me finally with a grin from which I knew immediately she'd found her new obsession.

After the uproar around the arrival of the competing schools has somewhat died down, Mattheo, Theo, Ki and I are in the Slytherin common room. Enzo's not here, again. His disappearances are starting to feel neutral as he's been doing this in the past few weeks. He barely talks to me, even though we've talked through our disagreement and his conflict with Mattheo, but he seems to be avoiding us – or me, at least, and it's starting to bother me, a lot.

"You think he's still mad at me?" I take the opportunity to ask as the others stay silent for a few seconds.

They share a cautious look which gives away they know something I don't. I raise my brows as my gaze shifts between the three of them, but as they don't say anything, I dodge questioning about it. "Never mind," I mutter as I reach for the bottle of wine in Ki's hand before standing up to leave.

Mattheo catches up to me as I'm already taking the steps two at a time up to the Astronomy Tower.

"Cass, c'mon," he sighs. Him following me is the last thing I need right now – his scent is so fucking strong that I'm starting to go insane because of it. Ever since that heated kiss we've shared under the shower, I've been pushing these thoughts down and the urge to kiss him senseless is growing and growing without ever coming to a stop. I'm back and forth, I think I'm going crazy. If I ever blow up like Enzo's cauldron the other week, just know it'll be because of this. "Let's talk," he spins me around by grabbing my arm then takes the bottle out of my hand. I give in with a sigh – bad idea, now my nostrils are filled with his scent, again.

"Okay," I nod, letting him take the bottle. My eyes are glued to his as he wraps an arm around my shoulder as he leads me towards the Astronomy Tower.

For a few minutes, we're only sitting next to each other, sipping from the bottle one after the other. I keep stealing glances at him, eyes fixated on his jawline as he lifts the alcohol to his lips, my gaze wandering up and down his features, stopping on the scar across his right eyebrow and eye.

"The nightmares?" I ask quietly, genuinely worried because he hasn't talked about his nightmares since the night he showed up at my dorm but judging by the bags under his eyes it's obvious he still has them.

"Still there," he mutters back, leaning against the railing.

"Guessed so," I nod sympathetically. I wish I could help him somehow. Ease the pain, take away from his nightmares and tiredness. "You should try a sleeping potion, see Madam Pomfrey."

He laughs and shakes his head. "For everyone to know it? Thanks, I'd pass. They think I'm crazy anyway, I don't need any more rumours to be spread about me," he takes another sip from the bottle before reaching for the pack of cigs in his pocket. I didn't think of it like this, but know he's right; we've both had our fair share of rumours, but mine can't even compete with his. The first real rumour that cost him his very few friends was probably the most serious one as well. In our third year, when the Chamber of Secrets was opened, it was considered evident that Mattheo, heir of Salazar Slytherin himself was the one who opened it. 'The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir... beware,' I remember the words written with blood as if it was only yesterday. It was obvious, right? 'The heir' – a little bit too obvious, if you ask me. Because why would the heir himself declare his cruelty like this? A thirteen-year-old kid. This wasn't the only buzz about him, of course. People have always been against him on a certain level, ever since he'd first introduced himself on the train after which the word of Voldemort's son coming to Hogwarts spread like wildfire.

"You're right, I'm sorry," I sigh, biting my lip as I think about how I could help him – but the effects of the consumed wine start to hit already, slowing my thinking down, sounding almost like gibberish in my head.

"Why are you apologizing?" he looks at me, confused with the cigar hanging from between his lips. Hell, I wanna replace it with my tongue so bad...

"Because it was stupid of me to say that and I made you upset," I mutter as I break my gaze away from Mattheo's lips.

With a frown, he wraps a comforting arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer to himself. "I'm not mad at you, dumbass," he squeezes my upper arm before offering me a puff of his fag. I've never smoked before – I think for a minute. Overthink, rather, because what if I do it wrong? And what if I don't like it? If I choke on it? He'd laugh at me for being this inexperienced. I shake my head as I lean my head onto his shoulder instead, feeling overwhelmed and tired.

I'll have to ask Ki to teach me how to smoke – I make a mental note.

As the night progresses, we are accompanied by Ki and Theo, some weed and more wine. The others are doing drugs but I stick to the wine. Do I have to mention I'm not exactly one for these kinds of fun? So I guess it's evident I barely ever drink as well. Well, tonight I take it a little far compared to my own limits.

I'm lying on the floor of the tower with Mattheo next to me, the remainder of a joint between his lips as I keep pointing constellations out for him.

"Cassiopeia," Mattheo points it out suddenly but since that's my name, I look over at him out of reflex, thinking he was calling for me. It's obvious that he's high, there's no doubt about it. But even like this, he's so gorgeous, I just can't help it.

Ki and Theo are sat up against the railing as they talk about something, subconsciously switching mid-sentence between English and Italian, so that I have even less of a chance to make some sense out of it as my attention is narrowed to admiring the boy lying next to me.

"...bein' high always makes me want to kiss you," Mattheo suddenly confesses in a barely understandable murmur, to which I can feel my heart rate skyrocket immediately.

"Then do," the consumed wine mutters back before I can stop my tongue from talking, and he doesn't need any more approval to put his joint out on the floor and tower over me to capture my lips in a lazy kiss. I hear Kiara say something that sounds a bit too much like 'Get a room' but my senses are once again too overwhelmed by Mattheo and the way his body grinds against mine as our lips melt together as if they were made for each other to make sense out of her words.

The whole scene doesn't feel real as I've been disassociated from my body and senses since lunch, but as the kiss deepens and our tongues dance together I can't help but want to take the lead. Or the wine wants it, who knows?

We continue making out, my hands ruffling his hair as they rake through the dark curls and his hands grip my hips, holding them down against the wooden floor while our tongues keep dancing with each other hastily.

Taking the initiative, I reach down in my drunken haze to unbuckle his belt but he grips my wrist immediately and breaks the kiss. "You're not just a hookup, Cassie," he whispers against my lips before intertwining our fingers, partially to keep my hand away from his jeans.

tag list: @inksoakedparchment @mqstermindswift @reys-letters

[dexlexia]

daddy issues (ver. 1) - toji x reader

pairing: toji fushiguro x reader rating: 18+ summary: Being the princess was a hard task. Being spoiled by your daddy was such a burden on your fragile shoulders. To be waited on by the man who spoiled you was such a difficult task. You weren't too sure how one could even TRY and do it. tags: pwp, daddy kink, smut, pet names (princess), d/s, rough sex, lingerie

Being the princess was a hard task. Being spoiled by your daddy was such a burden on your fragile shoulders. To be waited on by the man who spoiled you was such a difficult task. You weren't too sure how one could even TRY and do it. 

But you weren't the princess of a big castle in a far off land, you were the princess of a spacious apartment in the heart of Tokyo. And the daddy who spoiled you was a perverted older man with a shit relationship with his son and needed something to fuck into the expensive mattress. 

And you were never one to say no to pretty, cute things and a thick cock that made you see stars. So being the princess of your own kingdom seemed like a fitting title for what your charmed life was. 

You woke up around noon and found that Toji was gone. You wanted to curl back into bed for another couple of hours but you had to get your day started at some point. you got on your fuzzy slippers and stretched your arms above your head, arching your back in the process. In the kitchen you found a note from Toji

 'be home tonight. wear the two piece when i get home. - t“

You brought the paper to your nose and inhaled the scent of the cologne he used and probably sprayed on the letter. You squirmed a little at your love for him as you started your day. 

A nice hot cup of coffee and toast with bananas, powdered sugar and syrup on it. You sat on the couch and watched the news as you rested your feet on top of the coffee table. You briefly remembered Toji trying to assemble the table when you first moved in. He swore up a storm as you coyly handed him different screwdrivers. Eventually he took a break and ended up fucking you on the shag carpet next to the semi built table. 

Toji could be a rough lover, he liked things that didn't break. He pushed you to your absolute limit to make sure he was getting his money's worth. He said it was like hitting the gas at full speed on an expensive car to make sure the engine didn't burst. 

Your day went by quite quickly, most of the time you were kept at the apartment. Toji worried about bad men getting their hands on you, something so sweet and fragile should be protected at all costs. But when you were inside, you had full reign of the apartment. Usually it was spent trying new recipes for Toji, snuggling with the massive stuffed animals he bought you and watch television. 

You weren't too sure when Toji was going to come home. It could be at three in the afternoon or one in the morning, he was a busy man after all. But he knew he had a sweet girl to come home to, someone who'd take care of all of his needs once he walked through that door. After all, you'd do anything for daddy, that's what made you such a good princess. 

You brought the giant brown teddy bear from the corner of the bedroom and rested against it on the couch, it smelled like him. After all, you did spray it down every few weeks with his cologne when he wasn't looking. You threw the stuffed arm over your shoulder and relaxed against it, imagining it was your daddy. You really couldn't wait until he got home, you were so excited that while in the process of getting the stuffed teddy, you laid out the two piece for him. 

The lingerie wasn't anything too special. It was a white bra and panties set with cherries printed all over it. You didn't get what turned him on about them so much, you had so many nicer, more expensive sets but he wanted you in it all the time. When you asked him, he shrugged and said the fabric was durable for when you 'played rough'.

But you wouldn't be putting it on for a while now, as you got comfy you felt your eyelids grow heavy, and it wasn't long before you fell asleep in front of the television. You weren't too sure how long you had been asleep, but then suddenly you woke up to the sound of the front door closing. You popped your head up and looked over the back of the couch to the door and saw your daddy kicking off his shoes. 

His dark eyes looked over at you and the corner of his mouth curled, “I see the princess is tired? Didn't sleep well last night?” His voice was low and deadly, it struck a chord in you as you rubbed your thighs together. He was the sorcerer killer after all, he was a force to be reckoned with. He came up to you and rounded the couch so he was in front of you. He reached down and grabbed your chin, “I thought I said I wanted you ready.”

  “I'm sorry, daddy.” You gave him puppy-dog eyes as he held onto you. There was no fucking around with Toji, you might be the spoiled princess but he was the man who funded your charmed lifestyle, his word was law within the walls of your apartment, “You didn't tell me when you were coming home.”

He reached for your ass and grabbed it tightly. His calloused hand felt your flesh as he kept his eyes on you, his grip was almost bruising which made you wet. He ran his tongue across the scar on his lip and then said, “Well, baby, you have five minutes to make yourself presentable or else you won't be sitting right for a week. One, two, three, go.” His voice was a growl as he got out of your way to let you get up and rush to the bedroom. 

He laughed to himself as he watched you run away, you really were his good little princess. He knew that he had you wrapped around his finger, he'd spoil you as long as you were good to him. But he knew you'd always be good for him, you didn't have a bad bone in your body. 

A few minutes passed, in all honesty Toji wasn't keeping track, he then called out, ”thirty seconds, princess.“ And dropped himself onto the couch, his erection strained the front of his pants. His eyes were kept on the door to the bedroom where he heard you bumping into things and cursing to yourself. It was almost adorable how you tried to keep up with him, but he never wanted you to worry your little head about anything. Just sit there, suck his cock and look pretty.

Soon the door swung open and you looked perfect. Toji grinned to himself like a crazed man, that was the princess he knew and loved, wearing something skimpy for the man's eyes only. He adjusted himself in his seat and said, ”C'mere now.“ 

You even put on the little  sheer white thigh high socks with the satin bows at the top. Perfect, perfect, perfect, Toji had no excuse to punish such a sweet angel, his darling princess. You straddled his lap and kissed him on the cheek, ”How do I look, daddy?“ 

  ”Like a dream.“ He rubbed his clothed erection up against your panties, you moaned and he grabbed onto your hips, furthing pushing it up against you.

You noticed he had a bruise on his face and went in to carefully kiss it. He hissed through the pain and then moved his head to kiss you on the lips. You had little room to protest as you just melted into his touch. You could feel yourself grow more wet as you felt his hard cock pressed up against you. 

  ”Daddy.“

  ”Yes, princess.“ 

  ”Will you fuck me on the couch?“ You asked, your tone sounded so innocent compared to what you said. Your voice made his cock twitch in his pants. Soon you were placed beside him and he began to pull down his baggy pants past his cock, he freed it and it looked impressive against the black of his athletic t-shirt. 

Then he started to fully undress you, he liked the power that came with your nude and him fully dressed. It also gave him more exposed skin to leave marks on. He pulled the panties past your thighs, if this was a cheaper pair he would've ripped them right off. Once you were nude, he leaned forward and smacked your ass as you scrambled back onto his lap. 

  ”There we go, princess. Fuckin' perfect. You're mine right? You're so addicted to my cock that no other man could satisfy you?“ He said, his dark eyes looked darker with lust as you grabbed onto his shoulders and slowly sank down on his cock. He grit his teeth as he felt his cock enter you, a tight wet heat that felt like a punch to the gut. 

You whined, ”Yes, daddy.” And sat yourself on his impressive length. You already felt hot all over, the thrill of having sex with him was exciting. You loved the feeling of his cock bullying your insides as he pushed you closer to climax. You especially loved it when he left large, dark marks on your skin, it satisfied a deep part of you that wished to be owned. 

  “Such a good girl for me. That's it, ride daddy's cock.” He licked his lips, he had that look in his eye that he got when he was fighting. It could be chalked up to the similar feeling of the thrill of the hunt. Toji was the beast and you were the bunny that he wanted to sink his teeth into. He began to bite at your chest. He sucked dark marks on your chest, leaving especially dark ones near your nipples. He knew you'd been feeling them for some time afterwards. That thought excited him. 

You moved your hips at a nice, easy pace in an attempt to accommodate yourself to his size, but the pace soon bored your daddy and he gripped your hips and started to bounce you on his cock. His lips were on one of your nipples as he bit and roughly pulled at it. That combined with the also aching feeling of his cock being pushed in and out of your poor pussy made your eyes roll back in ecstasy. 

  “That's my good girl, such a perfect princess. Always a cock slut for me. You know how to satisfy me.” He groaned as he continued to harsh movements on you. He felt painfully hard, and he couldn't wait to paint your insides white. Thoroughly owned by him. 

  “Ah, daddy!” You moaned, “Please that feels so good, thank you daddy! Yes! Yes!” You whined as your breasts bounces as you fucked him. You believed that you were a good girl, this was what you were made for. For the affection of older men who enjoyed fucking sweet pussy. 

The two of you moved on the couch, Toji could feel the sweat of his body making him stick to his t-shirt and the leather couch. He looked over and saw the stuffed animal looking back at him. He reached out for the giant toy and knocked it to the ground so it would stop staring at him.

  “Daddy, that was rude!” You whined as you gripped onto his shoulders tightly, still thrusting your hips up and down on his cock. 

  “I didn't like how he was lookin' at us, sweetheart.” He grabbed you by the hair and pulled you down for a searing kiss as you continued to move up and down on his cock. The kiss was hot and messy and you could feel his cock bruising your insides as you moved. The sensation left your mind running blank.

Toji thought you looked perfect riding him on the couch, he always thought you looked beautiful when you were nude before him. You were his dream come true as he buried his cock as deep as he could inside of you. He liked his princess, well behaved, generous with her love for him. He wanted you submissive and all hs, even if you could be a brat. 

You both felt close to orgasm as the two of you continued to fuck. The kiss soon became open mouthed and Toji's tongue was basically down your throat, muffling all noises that came from you. He grabbed your breasts and played with them, his grip was hard and you knew it would only lead to more bruising. But you loved when Toji bruised you, it made you feel good. 

You pulled away from the kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck and shoved your breasts in his face to get a good position to ride him. Toji groaned at the feeling and let you work your magic on his cock. He groaned and gripped your hips once more to guide you like the good daddy he was. 

With a few more hard thrusts you soon arched your back and came around his cock. The feeling was immense as you felt all the fight leave your body as pleasure filled up your skull like cotton. You dropped yourself against him, smothering him further with your breasts. He picked up the slack however and continued to thrust up into your limp body as the curl of pleasure formed in his gut. 

Soon he was finishing inside of you with a groan, and peeled you off of him to look down at him. Your eyes were glazed over and your mouth hung slightly open as you gulped for air. He grinned and slapped your ass, the sound rang in the air, “That's it.” He purred, “That's a good girl. My darling princess, such a good slut for me.” 

You nodded, body hot all over. You slid off of his cock and by his feet on the couch. You rested your cheek on his leg as you tried to catch your breath. And he played with your hair while he relaxed. Where you belong with him. His dark eyes gazed down at you, and you looked up at him. 

He smirked at you, “Well c'mon, princess. Why don't you clean daddy up?” 

[halfhissandwich]

What your favorite Sanders Sides episode says about you because I’m binging the series rn and I wanna do this. All of this is a joke, I’m just being silly

My True Identity: Wow look at the fun little identity crisis series! Would be a shame if this goes downhill, right? Yeah, that’s what denial of the inevitable sounds like.

Way Too Adult: I’m willing to bet you’re a fan of the Unsympathetic Patton stuff. Just the vibe I get.

Taking on Anxiety!: I’m so sorry for the atrocities that have occurred in this fandom regarding Virgil. All you wanted was a sassy little emo boy and the fandom made him the embodiment of uwu, I’M SO SORRY-

A New Year of Lying to Myself… In Song!: You just like the song. I feel you, I like the song too.

The Dark Side of Disney!: We meet again, prinxiety shippers. :)

I’m in a Disney show!: Your favorite character is C!Thomas.

The Mind vs. The Heart: I won’t say you’re a logicality shipper… but if they got married, you definitely wouldn’t complain.

Dad’s Big Game Day Tips: … Daddy issues. I’m sorry, it needed to be said.

Alone on Valentines Day: I don’t have a joke here, but I’ll just say that my first thought was “aromantic”, so take that as you will.

Losing My Motivation: Oh my gosh. We get it. Logan is wonderful. That’s the 5th PowerPoint you’ve made today. Please just let me go home.

Q&A: You want an updated one. Me too, buddy, me too.

Am I Original: Going back and rewatching this video after POF makes you cry every single time.

My Negative Thinking: Hey analogical shippers, how are you doing? Still starving? … anyway let’s do some more logicality and prinxiety, shall we? :)

Growing Up: You’re everything that the people who’s favorite episode is “Losing My Motivation” are, but for Patton, and you don’t understand why the fandom thinks he’s kind of problematic.

Making Some Changes: *obnoxious chanting* LAMP LAMP LAMP LAMP LAMP LAMP LAMP LAMP LAM-

Becoming A Cartoon: … I won’t say anything. I won’t crush your dreams. I’ll just observe, smile, nod and just move on.

Accepting Anxiety: I don’t blame you, a lot of work was put into that episode. By the way you know you can ship prinxiety platonically, right? You can like it platonically without liking it romantically, I-I hope you know that-

Fitting In: You’re actively choosing to ignore drama online and I’m impressed with that, also you are aware that it’s messed up to bash Thomas for making a Harry Potter video 6 years ago, IT WAS SIX YEARS AGO AND HE LIKED HARRY POTTER, DON’T YOU DARE CANCEL THOMAS FOR THAT-

Moving On: Sorry, I’d write a joke for this one but I’m too busy crying-

12 Days Of Christmas: holy wow- no thoughts, head empty. You saw the colorful and festive little Christmas special and you actually said “:D” out loud.

Can Lying be Good: THEATER KIDS, ASSEMBLE!

Why do we get out of bed in the morning?: You probably said one thing in support of logince at one point in your entire life and you got chased with pitchforks by the prinxiety shippers and then Roman started bullying Logan, I am so sorry for this fandom’s sins :(

Crofters the musical: You’re basically Roman in this episode. “But look at him now! (Cue Logan chugging jam like a fucking madman) He’s just so COOL!”

Learning New Things About Ourselves: Your motto is “angst doesn’t exist if I can’t see it.”

Embarrassing Phases: I… completely forgot this episode existed. This is your favorite? I’m not judging your taste or anything, but what’s with your taste?

Selfishness v. Selflessness: Your favorite design? Janus. Your favorite personality? Janus. Your favorite ship? A Janus ship. Your favorite side? … Logan.

Dealing with Intrusive Thoughts: Remus’ abandonment issues aren’t canon. But if I say that too loud, then you people might stab me, so nevermind.

Are There Healthy Distractions: Apparently this episode’s plot of Thomas forgiving his previously homophobic friend is an analogy for Thomas forgiving Virgil for having been a dark side. That’s the connection! I missed it too! I thought it was a silly Frozen episode too! IT’S ABOUT VIRGIL!

Putting Others First: … guys, you can stop fighting the moceit vs roceit war, neither of them will ever be canon. ALSO HOLY WOW PATTON IS A FROG AND HE’S RIPPED FOR SOME REASON, WHAT THE FU-

Flirting With Social Anxiety: Your number one headcanon for the season 2 finale is a direct Frozen quote where Patton is like “Thomas you can’t marry a man you just met” and Roman is like “you can if it’s true love! >:0” (also hi again prinxiety shippers!)

Working Through Intrusive Thoughts: You have anger issues and you relate to Logan. Or you’re just happy to see the silly, goofy, demented Duke with fandom-inflicted abandonment issues!

[prmssm]

hello! i know you haven't posted here in a while, but new stevetony dynamic just dropped!

idk if you've heard of the new ultimate universe (mostly unrelated to the original one), but ultimates #1 (the avengers-aligned title) came out yesterday, and it features a teenage tony with daddy issues, a freshly-defrosted steve with a revolutionary streak, and a bit of longing/envy for earth-616 as "what they could've/should've been"

it's a very new universe (there's been less than 20 cumulative issue published so far), so you can easily read everything (i have a reading order here), but if you only want steve and tony's story, it's just ultimate invasion #1-4 > ultimate universe #1 > the ultimates #1 > the second story in 'free comic book day 2024: ultimate universe/spider-man' (though this one was more of a sneak peek and might be set after/during a later ultimates issue, it's the obligatory confusing one lol)

Thank you so much for the rec and reading orders! 💕 I am in fact back on my superhero bullshit since Free Comic Book Day (though for me that's mostly just involved acquiring an armful of completely random issues of various things, and rewatching Avengers Assemble episodes). I probably even saw that ultimate comic at my local comic shop on that day, but ignored it due to my unwarranted bias against anything related to the Ultimates 😅 But maybe I'll go back and give it a fairer shake.

My heart absolutely yearns to revive this blog, but I still feel like I don't have anything worthy of posting yet. But I did spend the other day shaking @ahsokaisawesome by the shoulders and frantically detailing a AA/MCU crossover fic treatment at her, so I know the embers of my multiverse love are still smouldering.

But anyway. Thanks again!

[halfnekoslair]

My AU main design post

Might be beta >w< Maybe I'll change something. People here make such interesting iterations and mine looks very basic.

But I'll post them anyway

In the subject of eyes, I know that Leo's and Raph's eyes look a little strange in my drawings. It is intentionally so. I wanted to portray Leo's eyes so dark that instead of a pupil, only a reflection is visible. And Raph's eyes should look more animal-like because he's basically my AU's main victim)

Leo: - Was appointed as oldest brother by Splinter. - Daddy's favorite. The best at many things that Splinter considers important. - Often refuses to participate in activities where he knows he will not be the best. - Arrogant, but afraid of the slightest dispraise. - Finds himself pretty cute. >w< - Minimum gear because he's that good. -Thinks black makes him look more ninja. - Quite a positive and adventurous person actually. He sees good in people. - And makes them feel a lot of cringe by telling them about it. - Come on, bad guys. Stop being bad. - A bit of a hypocrite as he thinks it's OK to beat up robbers while his whole family is stealing groceries.

Raph: - Was considered youngest due to the fact that he was lost in the first months after the mutation, but he fought his way to the second oldest position. Literally fought) - Obsessed with physical dominance. Puts strength training far ahead of stealth. - In fact, Splinter is the only one in the family on a relatively healthy diet with him. But they still don't get along and criticize each other in detail. - Likes to look monstrous and scare people. - Not exactly anger management issue... Rather, general cruelty towards humans plus inability to express emotions in a peaceful and quiet way. His brothers often can't tell if he just being loud for the sake of being loud or because something really happened. So they mostly ignore it all. This causes a lot of resentment. - He's pretty pessimistic and it's the hardest thing to get his trust. - In fact, he wants to be proved that he is wrong. - Almost no gear because he doesn't care. He will change his mind after the first major injury.

Donnie: - The middle child who is calm in this position because they all share the same birthday. And it's all stupid. - Considered the weakest fighter in the family, but generally too smart and strategic for that to be a problem. - He thought he would catch up with his brothers in training, but seeing how Leo and Raph jumping out of their shells, he realized he doesn't want to spend so much time on it instead of things he's really interested in. - Looks most human in proportion. Sometimes he dresses as a human to get into a place he really want. - Has an old grudge against Splinter that father does not appreciate his abilities enough and prefers playing ninjas with Leo. - It's mostly him who challenges Leo as a leader by criticizing his plans. - Technical genius. Compared to those around him) Can assemble almost anything. - Bonding with Mikey and Raph around this. - Sees the world in rather gloomy colors, but willingly jumps into any adventure if there is something interesting for him. - Carries a bag with all possible stuff. Outside of combat, he often lets Raph carry it. (He would never agree to carry it if he knew even half of what's inside) - All gear that he deemed reasonable to use. Mikey: - The youngest child, theoretically, and uses this position to his advantage. - Pretty acrobatic despite looking chubby. - Splinter thinks he's a gifted ninja, but Mikey keeps screwing up in training. - Maybe he doing it on purpose. Because it's very important for Leo to be the best and so on. - The best at cooking, but makes the kitchen a mess, which causes conflict with Raph, who also uses the kitchen. - Light and free spirited. Glad to make friends with anyone without questions. Often gets into trouble. -But he always gets saved and doesn't learn anything because he doesn't get the consequences. - The peacemaker. Knows when and what to say. - But often says something stupid just to see the result. - All the gear his brothers were able to get him to wear. Because the little one needs to be protected. - Wears cartoon character keychains and rattles them on missions, driving Leo crazy. Link to the post with all parts of this AU: url It's mostly at the very beginning >w<

[bitemedotmp3]

❝ Look at me, psychological damage up to here! ❞

"Oh, are we having a contest? Because let me just say: I've got some baggage."

"I'm sorry, how does-" Mika blinks, frowning. It looks like she's doing a little mental search, trying to find the right phrasing. "How does a robot have emotional baggage? Is it... programmed? Why?"

"I've asked myself that a lot," sighs Uzi, leaning back in her chair. She's trying to get along better with her roommate; Mika is nice, and... And it would just be nice to not be all alone again. She doesn't need another reason. "But no, all my trauma was gained the good-ol'-fashioned way: daddy issues, repressed emotions, near-death experiences-"

"Wait, you have a dad? Is he..." Mika trails off again, biting her lip.

Uzi rolls her eyes. "Just say it."

"Did he... build you, or something like that?"

"I mean, he and mom pulled my core off the assembly line and put some code into my AI core- I don't wanna talk about my birth! I wanna talk about all my damage! Look, see this?" She gets up on the table and crawls in close, 'till her face is only a few inches away from Mika's face. "See the colors? Damaged."

It's easier to tell from close up: Uzi's eyes, warning symbols, or any text that pops up on the screen that makes up the upper half of her face isn't a uniform color. It goes from purple at the bottom to a golden yellow at the top, with a weird orange-ish in the middle.

"I, it's... It's a very pretty gradient?" Mika tries. "I hadn't really noticed."

"No, it's not pretty, it's badass!" Uzi groans, falling back into her seat. "You know why it's like that? Because I ate Robo-Satan's heart! Because I'm frickin' awesome! And I only got slightly scarred for life from it all!"

"Robo-Satan..." echoes Mika.

"I mean, not literally, but. She was pretty close. Anyhow, that's my deal. Or part of it, at least."

A silence follows, probably to give Mika some time to processes how cool Uzi is. "I must say, every answer just raises more questions..." says Mika.

"That's because I'm deep and complex,' says Uzi. A sunglasses graphic appears on her face as she smirks. "Anyhow, then what are you gonna go to therapy for?"

Mika sighs, placing her hands on the table. "Well... How much time do you have?"

[i-am-bitterly-jittery]

On Death's Doorstep (pt 36/?)

[<<First],,,,[<Prev],[Next>] [ODD Masterlist]

Word count: 1501

Rating: Teen

Pairings: Anxceit, Karrot Kings

Warnings: kidnapping, evil government agencies, abandonment issues, certain characters need therapy

~~~START~~~

And to think, when Janus woke up this morning, they’d thought the only plans they had were to watch the end of Totoro with Patton. Poor, naive first-thing-in-the-morning Janus, little did they know.

The entire household, minus Patton, was assembled in the living room that had been Virgil’s for less than twenty-four hours before he’d run off to be stupid and heroic. Some of the tension that hung thick in the air might have been due to the fact that this was the first time Logan and Remy had been in the same room since Remy’s resurrection, but Janus had more important things on their mind than whether or not Logan was a bad father.

Remy had turned the TV on sometime between when Janus had left, and when Logan brought them back down, so now they had the dull voices of the either incredibly oblivious or paid off newscasters as they speculated the identities of the victims and the likelihood they would be saved droning on in the background. In Janus’s — admittedly biased — opinion, only a moron would fail to see that this was a targeted attack; a completely unknown villain attacks a mall, steals nothing, kidnaps two civilians, and leaves without a fight? Unrealistic.

No, unfortunately all the pieces seemed to be coming together, and Janus did not like the picture they were forming. First, someone somehow knows — or guesses — where Logan will strike, and frames him for blowing up a building and killing a vigilante; then the Director of the Metahuman Affairs Agency shows up on the doorstep of the mother of said vigilante and asks some… probing questions that suggest the Agency is out to get the father of the vigilante (who happens to be Logan); and finally, a supervillain just happens to kidnap the fathers, and only the fathers, of the city’s runaway superhero.

The MAA were the clear culprits, and Janus did not like Virgil’s odds in this fight.

“We have to go after him!” Roman declared loudly, lowering his volume only slightly when shushed. Patton had mercifully stayed asleep so far, and while their luck couldn’t last forever, no one wanted to fast track that conversation. “He’s one of us now, and he needs our help.”

“As much as I want to go after him,” Janus said, all the while shooting worried glances towards Patton’s door. “We don’t know where he went. He can track people and teleport; we have no leads to follow.”

“Maybe he’s–”

Whatever Remy was going to say was cut off suddenly as Patton’s door began to creak open.

Everyone held their breath as a barely awake Patton shuffled out, cat stuffie clutched in his hand.

“Daddy?” He asked, pushing his glasses up with one hand in order to rub the sleep from one eye.

Janus looked to Logan to help; the older man merely gestured at Patton as if to say, “this is your job”. Right, Janus’s job. They could do this.

Janus steeled themself up and tried to project an air of calm — it wouldn’t do to add to the distress Patton would no doubt be feeling in the air.

“Hey, buddy,” they started, approaching Patton slowly, like he was a bomb just waiting to go off. Patton, unfortunately, was already starting to tear up. “Daddy’s not here right now–”

“No!” Patton yelled, cat stuffie held against his heart in a death grip.

“It’s gonna be alright–”

“NO!”

“Pat–” Janus reached out to comfort the child, but their hand passed right through him.

“Nonononono!” Patton continued to scream, but Janus was more focused on their hand and the way it passed this way and that through Patton’s shoulder and arm without making any kind of contact.

“Logan, dear,” Janus heard Babs start behind them.

They were starting to panic, and they knew most of it wasn’t their own, that Patton was unintentionally projecting, but that didn’t make it any easier to overcome.

“All the floors are phase-proof,” Logan replied, no doubt answering his mom’s unasked question.

“Patton please,” Janus begged, unable to get their hands on the screaming five-year-old. “We’ll get him back, I swear!”

But Patton wasn’t listening. The cat slipped from his hands and landed solidly on the ground. The lack of comfort item in his grasp only caused Patton to wail louder.

Janus wished desperately that they knew the right words to say that could comfort Patton, that they could hold him while his world fell apart. But all they could do was watch helplessly as Patton cried for his dad.

Eventually, someone sat on the floor next to Janus. They turned to find Remus picking the cat stuffie up off the ground. She started making the cat dance around as she told what Janus found to be a very strange story about the cat’s adventures; it wasn’t until the third left-field plot-twist that Janus realized what she was doing.

They were trying to shock Patton out of his distress. They were trying to soothe him with their voice and surprise him with her words.

It wasn’t until the cat’s boat was sunk by the Kraken that Patton’s wails quieted into sniffles, and by the time the Kraken married both Godzilla and Mothman — with the cat as the Best Man, of course — that Janus found they could reach out and touch him.

Gingerly, they pulled Patton into their arms. He went willingly enough. Their distress spiked from the direct contact with the still projecting Patton, but there was something almost cathartic about it now.

“It’s not forever,” Janus promised, fat tears rolling down their face as Remus handed Patton the cat back. “We’ll bring him back as soon as we can.”

“Promise?” Patton asked weakly.

“Double pinky promise!” Two Remuses said at the same time, offering their pinkies to Patton. Patton didn’t take them, but he seemed satisfied as he leaned further into Janus’s embrace, panic receding slightly.

Janus looked around to find that while one Roman was hovering nervously, and another one and Logan had gone to make breakfast in the kitchen. Barbra was staring directly at the TV, but Janus didn’t doubt she was paying more attention to them than she was to the news, and they didn’t mind thinking so. Remy looked away quickly when Janus glanced at her, but she had definitely been watching the scene as nervously as Roman was.

“Are you hungry?” They asked Patton gently. The toddler nodded against their chest. “Do you want to go to the kitchen with Roman?”

“‘Kay,” Patton answered tiredly.

Roman moved instantly, carefully lifting Patton from Janus’s grip.

“Come along, my young prince,” he said, lacking his usual enthusiasm. “We shall venture forth and find some pancakes!”

“I don’t know how anyone raises children,” Janus muttered once they were far enough away, leaning fully against Remus. “Especially superpowered children.”

Babs laughed. “Logan was a handful, that’s for sure. Of course, I did have the unfair advantage of knowing what he was going to do a little in advance.”

“What about Emile?” Asked Janus before they suddenly realized their mistake. They tried to backtrack, but Barbra was already waving them off.

“I don’t mind talking about Emile,” she smiled a little sadly, but mostly fondly. “The best way to honor his life is to share it.”

Logan definitely did not share this philosophy, and the only reason Janus even knew about Emile was because they’d needed Logan to explain his sudden change in demeanor before they’d allow him to commit crimes with them.

“Emile was very bright,” Babs said, doing a wonderful job of acting like she didn’t know what Janus was thinking. “He could have gotten into trouble if he’d had a mind for it, but he never did. He adored his brother, and was always following Logan around — of course, Logan adored him too, but you’d never hear him admit it.”

“Did he have powers too?” Remus asked eagerly, Janus was pretty sure she and Roman had been pestering Barbra for stories about Logan as a child and had been taking in every scrap of information hungrily.

“He had a touch of super strength, but he almost never used it — mostly he just pulled the fridge out when his father had a mind to clean behind it. My boys,” she mused wistfully. “I hope they’re showing Atlas what for.”

Janus tried to smile at that, but they didn’t have much in them.

“I’m worried we’re not going to be enough for Patton,” they admitted. “But I don’t know what to do besides getting Virgil back.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this,” Remy started, raising her hand. Janus and Remus both startled, having almost forgotten she was there, Babs just smiled encouragingly. “But I think I have an idea.”

Janus looked at her, then at the TV she’d been watching. A hero Janus vaguely recognized from the news was escorting Backlash out of an abandoned-looking warehouse. Behind them, a second hero was escorting the mostly unscathed Thomas and Nico Flores-Sanders.

~~~END~~~

Ten points to whoever can guess what the supervillains’ next move is lol

ODD taglist

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple @arsonic-knight @misunderstood-shadowling @lost-in-thought-20 @remy-the-lemon-berry @jinxcrafter @apinkline2715 @gothfoxx @donutsarepartybagels @xoaningout @meganmoneky14 @lunatatic

[agentwashingcat]

Honestly the group of friends you assemble in Scarlet/Violet is hilarious because you got like

1. The student council president who comes from money and is absolutely feral about pokemon battles. Just balls to the wall salivating at the thought that you could be her rival

2. The saddest boy with mommy/daddy issues who would do literally anything to save his dog. Is also the king of sandwiches and snark. Would probably cry if you gave him a hug.

3. A literal criminal hacker and gang leader who has extreme social anxiety and communicates with you through the phone while keeping her identity a secret for 75% of the game. Would also probably cry if you gave her a hug.