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ghost-proofbaby · 2 days ago

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twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

"HALLOWEEN PARTIES"

EXTRA CONTENT- "BEYOND THE HOURS"

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader → warnings: strong language, mentions of breeding kink, mentions of possible future pregnancy, lots of suggestive conversation and making out. not edited. upside down does not exist, minors dni → wc: 9.9k+ → a/n: @take-everything-you-can plagued me with thoughts of what our idiots would get up to on halloween, and i just couldn't help myself. it definitely spiraled out of control though. my bad. ALSO, QUICK DISCLAIMER: please if you get a snake don't do what reader and eddie did. snakes a homebodies. we are just going to pretend it's okay in this context for the name of fiction, alright? obligatory snake owner ramble over. let's GO.

enjoy the main story's masterlist here

The thumping of the bass was audible before you’d even exited the elevator fully.

Any other day of the year, you’d assume your group of friends would be earning an instant noise complaint for the volume of the music coming from behind Steve and Robin’s apartment front door. But it wasn’t just any other day – it was Halloween, and somewhere amongst the rhythm of what surely had to be Steve blasting Abba, you could make out fellow neighbors playing music just as loudly.

If anything, the overly quiet apartments were more concerning than the noisy ones.

“Do you think Lestat is going to do okay with the music?” Eddie suddenly frets, one hand reaching to tug on what little fabric there was of his costume. It almost made you smile, a reminder of what exactly your usually ‘scary’ boyfriend was donning.

Britney Spears, circa 2001. One of her most iconic VMA performances.

He’d decided it the moment you two had come home several months ago with the most important accessory that was draped around his neck – a juvenile ball python named Lestat, who looked surprisingly content as he hung onto Eddie’s shoulders.

“I don’t know,” you hum, looking over at Eddie, a little bit concerned now that he’d brought it up, “Maybe it’s a bad idea-”

“I’m texting Nance to turn the music down.”

“What if it freaks him out?”

“It’ll be fine.”

“What if he gets stressed and bites you, Eddie?”

To any onlooker, the sight of you might have been a bit funny. Furrowed brows, arms crossed, sticky blood spread out across your stomach and sternum.

The theme tonight for the two of you had been iconic performances. Eddie insisted, and part of you knew he was just afraid to dress up so extravagantly all alone when it came to this small get-together, but you hadn’t hesitated to pull together your own version of Lady Gaga’s iconic VMA performance from 2009. If you two were going to commit to a theme this year, you were committing.

Eddie balances his phone in one hand, typing with a single thumb. Impressive, given his history of ardently avoiding owning a smart phone. His other hand trails up to his collarbone, sneaking a careful finger below Lestat’s head, holding him up and pouting his lip a little, “This little guy? Biting me? He would never.”

The sight was cute. Obnoxiously, overly, endearingly cute.

“He’s still a snake,” you try to argue, stopping right outside of apartment 34C. The music was more clear now as it switched from whatever Abba tune had been playing to Maneater by Nelly Furtado, “If he gets scared enough, he might.”

“I’d hardly call him a snake,” Eddie snorts, shoving his phone back into his pocket, smiling as he tilts his chin to awkwardly stare at the snake now carefully slithering over his knuckles, “Dude misses the mice on his first strike every time we feed him. And if there was ever a time he was going to bite me, it would have been when I was taking that moss out of his mouth as he was eating.”

That earns a huff of a laugh from you as well. The image of Eddie on Monday night, absolutely losing his mind as he’d noticed that Lestat had gotten his mouse entangled in some of the moss decorating his enclosure, not even hesitating to open the tank once more and throw his hand in right along with the tongs to prevent your new ‘son’ from ingesting it, crosses your mind. It hadn’t mattered how much you reassured him that it was probably normal in the wild, that Lestat’s body could certainly handle it. Eddie had been insistent and blinded by what could only be described by paternal instinct.

If you’d asked yourself last Halloween if that had been where you see your life heading in a year’s time, you would have rolled your eyes.

“You do realize how dumb that was of you, right?” you insist, remembering your fear and the way your breath had caught in the moment. It was funny now, but you’d never gripped onto Eddie’s shoulder tighter than when he’d recklessly done so. You loved the snake, you really did, but you’d realized in that moment you might still love Eddie just a little bit more.

The conversation is cut short as it’s clear that Nancy had received Eddie’s text, the music behind the door quieting a bit along with a change of song.

Your jaw nearly drops, “You did not make Nancy do that.”

The opening notes of I’m a Slave 4 U were impossible to miss.

“I did.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Are you gonna insult me the entire night, or let me make my iconic entrance?”

You don’t get a chance to answer, Eddie carefully passing by you, Lestat’s head bouncing a little as it passes a bit closer to your face than you would have been comfortable with a few months ago.

The snake, funnily enough, had even been your idea to begin with. Your want, your desperate argument you’d wasted countless breaths upon while getting ready for bed with Eddie.

It’ll be fun, you’d whined to Eddie as you’d both crawled into bed, we even have the space in the living room.

Sweetheart, you’re fucking terrified of snakes, Eddie had easily rebuttalled. He wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t stop you from huffing like a petulant child.

That’s an exaggeration, you argued right back.

Your hands had still shook ferociously that first day of bringing home the snake when you’d been the one to move him from the small container the store had placed him and into the full fifty gallon tank now occupying a fairly large chunk of the apartment’s living room.

You’re still lost in your head as the door swings open for Eddie right as the first chorus of the song begins. He’s dramatic, fully committed, a glimmer of who he must have been in high school shining right through as he struts confidently into your friends’ apartment.

A version of Eddie you somehow missed despite never having met. You almost wonder if you would have still ended up here if you’d met then; you almost wonder if you would have still ended up at each other’s throats inevitably, even in those days.

You probably would have. You secretly hope that it all would have still happened exactly as it has.

“No fucking way!”

Robin is the first voice you can hear excitedly shriek out a reaction to Eddie, followed by a sharp hush from Nancy. They’re deeper in the apartment, out of your line of sight. You can hear Jonathan’s muttered response lost in the music, and you can smell Argyle’s presence rather than hear or see it.

Weed had been expected, but Steve and Robin were strict in their rule of only partaking on the balcony.

“Yes fucking way,” Eddie responds, clearly giddy. You finally trail in behind him, not necessarily shy but certainly not nearly as extravagant as he had been. You hang back a bit, biting back a grin, just admiring your boy.

All warmth, rosey cheeks spread wide in his boyish grin, eyes bright as he wiggles his brows as Robin.

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” Robin whispers as she rushes forward, glancing over her shoulder, clearly looking for Steve before she leans it a tad bit closer towards Lestat.

“Mama didn’t raise a bitch,” Eddie snarkily replies, moving to slowly remove the snake from his neck.

“Language,” you jokingly scold him, reaching out to take the snake from his hands as he brings it to his chest, giving Robin a closer look at the nearly-glimmering pale scales of your pet. Almost instinctively, he starts to pull the animal away, but once he sees the look on your face, he’s quick to hand him over. “No cursing around our son.”

Nancy finally walks up, still no sign of Steve as she joins your side and Lestat wraps his body slowly around your wrist, “Oh my God, don’t tell me you also refer to this thing as your child.”

“This thing?” Eddie huffs, more offended than you, “Nance, he has a name.”

Robin has gravitated towards you now, entirely captivated by the ball python, eyes shimmering as she lets out the smallest gasps and squeals under her breath, “What’s his name?”

“Lestat,” you whisper, watching Nancy and Eddie grow closer and clearly get more immersed in their own private conversation, “But Eddie wanted to name him Frodo.”

“Frodo,” Robin chuckles a little, looking at you questioningly as she holds out a timid finger. You give her a nod, moving a thicker part of the snake’s body to face her rather than the head, “Sounds like Eddie.”

It did indeed. Once the bickering of whether or not you two would even get the snake to begin with had faded, the entire argument of what its name would be had started up. Eddie wanted the snake to be named after his favorite books – you wanted to name the snake after your most recent reads.

You’d clearly won. At the sacrifice of promising the inevitable first of many cats you and Eddie would eventually have be named Frodo instead. But you’d still won.

Robin’s eyes finally leave the snake long enough to take in your own outfit, and you hadn’t realized it was possible for the girl’s grin to widen, “Wait - are you dressed as Lady Gaga from her Paparazzi performance?”

“Oh, my dear Birdie,” you coo out the endearment, shivering slightly as the cool body of the snake continues to slither up near your elbow, “This night is just getting started.”

—

You were right. The night had just begun.

The first few hours pass fairly chaotically. A languid and rapid mixing of everyone excitedly catching up on each other’s lives, various drinks beginning to be concocted. Some delicious, and some spurring gags from others simply from the description of the hard liquor that had gone into them.

Argyle had managed to lure many of the group out onto the patio at various intervals to partake in the devil’s lettuce, as he had proudly proclaimed it. Nancy and Jonathan had figured out a way to set up a makeshift karaoke party in the living room, lyrics for songs being displayed on the main TV. And Steve, for all his attentive hospitality as the one of the co-hosts of the night, had remained painfully oblivious.

Eddie had gone behind his back when it came to bringing Lestat. Steve had made it clear when the two of you had purchased the puppy in reptile form that he wanted nothing to do with the python, while the rest of the group had been easily intrigued – especially Robin. And so once Eddie had decided upon his Britney outfit, the next logical step had been securing Lestat’s attendance at the party. He hadn’t texted Steve - or Nancy, as a matter of fact - but rather Robin.

The girl hadn’t even taken a minute to respond, overly enthusiastic to meet the snake.

Everyone had slowly become a part of a more silent bet as the night dragged on, and for once, you and Eddie were on the betting side of it all. The drinks were poured, the weed was smoked, the music was sung along to painfully off-key, and Steve never once noticed the snake that was frequently wrapped around various parts of yours and Eddie’s body.

The quick exchanges probably didn’t help. When Steve needed your help in the kitchen at one point, you’d smoothly handed Lestat over to Eddie in passing. When Eddie had agreed to join Jonathan and Argyle on the balcony at one point, he’d easily and carefully draped the snake across the nape of your neck from behind the couch. Hell, you’d even spent a good five minutes engrossed in a conversation with Steve, all the while Lestat had been comfortably coiled around your bicep opposite the man.

As the hours passed by, you found yourself wanting to be caught.

Your phone pings suddenly as you bury yourself deeper into the leather couch, giggling over Steve’s current rendition of What’s New Scooby Doo?.

You shuffle carefully to pull it from where you’d wedged it against your hip, trapped weakly by your white bottoms speckled with glittery blood.

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND: I want a cigarette :-(

You do a double take of the contact name, blinking rapidly before you finally connect the dots.

YOU: when the hell did you change your contact name in my phone?

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND: Unimportant.

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND: Do you think if I hand Lestat off to you right now that Steve would notice?

Your eyes flick up as the song ends, Robin having jumped up to finish off the performance with Steve, the two of them a mess of flailing limbs clinging to each other and joyful laughter bubbling out of them for unknown reasons.

Well, partially unknown reasons. One of them was surely the strange concoction the two of them had chugged at some point in the night that had included both watermelon flavored vodka and green apple whiskey. That had been one you’d cringed and stuck your tongue out at.

YOU: 50/50 chance. And NOT unimportant btw, what’s my name in YOUR phone?

Just as Eddie exits the bathroom, Steve perks up at the sound of the door and distant flush, removing himself entirely from Robin’s embrace, “Fuckin’ finally! I have to piss.”

Everyone holds their breath as he rushes past Eddie, but he still remains completely unaware of the snake that Eddie is carrying.

The slam of the door times perfectly with Eddie’s collapse onto the couch next to you, a shy and guilty grin already gracing his face before you even begin bursting at the seams with continuing the text conversation face-to-face.

“Seriously,” you waste no time, turning to him quickly and your knee easily overlapping his thigh as you shuffle into a more comfortable position, “When did you change your name in my phone, asshole?”

He takes his time answering, pulling on the ridiculously small jean shorts he wears as his shoulders quiver with the effort of holding in his laughter, “Words hurt, baby.”

You hate the way nicknames as simple as baby can send still shivers down your spine.

“You couldn’t have at least been a little more creative? Like, world’s hottest boyfriend? C’mon, you can be more clever than that, surely.”

It’s easy to do this, to egg him on and prod at his ego in the softest of ways. It’s also always been a dead giveaway to him that he’s gotten under your skin.

“My name with a pretty black heart next to it just wasn’t cutting it anymore,” he pouts exaggeratedly, leaning into your space a bit, holding the snake a careful distance away as he looks into your eyes and a suspiciously jubilant look crosses his face, “What would you have preferred?”

“Something shorter,” you breathe out, feeling some of the alcohol coursing through your veins now, making your headswim as you suck in the scent of his cologne heavy in the space between you, “It’s a bit of a mouthful, if I’m being honest.”

“It is,” he nods, and his lips spread salaciously, pupils growing just a tad bit wider before he delivers a devastating blow, “But we both know you can take it, can’t you, baby?”

Damn him. Fuck him. Send him all the way down to the depths of Hell, for all you care.

He’s caught on to a clear game he can play now that you’re tipsy, one that he certainly has the upper hand in, and you can’t tell if the night ending in him winning it would actually spell your loss. You swear, you can already feel his hands on your hips, tearing off the costume you’d spent several weeks carefully sewing sequins into, his lips getting sticky with all the fake blood across your torso, his-

Huh. Never had you realized yourself to be such a horny drunk.

“Now I need a cigarette,” you grumble, leaning away from him, trying to break whatever spell he was casting. None of your friends’ have even noticed the interaction happening on the couch, saving you from eternal embarrassment.

If you’d had less pinot noir and shots of Fireball whiskey in your veins, you’d probably still find the decency in you to be self-conscious at toying with these things in public. Maybe scold him, maybe douse out whatever flames he was attempting to ignite.

Eddie leans back as well, clearly satisfied with himself as he lifts Lestat up to preoccupy himself by pretending to study the lightened coloring of the snake. Mostly white, with splatterings of a traditional morph at random across the body. The woman who had sold the snake to the two of you had referred to it as a piebald. If you had been shopping with an actual breeder rather than a reputable rescue, he would have cost an arm and a leg.

Luck had been on your side the day you’d stumbled upon the snake. You wish luck was still on your side tonight.

Eddie sticks out the tip of his tongue to mimic the snake a few times before he focuses on you again, “You know, we could always see if Robin wants to watch him while we both go grab one.”

You have no clue how the girl had heard him from across the living room, but she suddenly appears at his side, just as eager in appearance as her original text giving the blessing to bring Lestat had been.

“Did someone say I could hold the snake?” she bounces a bit on the balls of her feet, looking down with utter fascination, “Please tell me you guys just said I could hold the little guy. When you first got him, I did a ton of research so I’d know proper handling tips, and also how to know if he gets too stressed. Also I may or may not have been nervous about how often they bite, but I found out that-”

“They don’t bite,” Eddie interrupts with reassurance, offering a small smile as he looks up to her, “At least, not very often. You usually have to aggravate them pretty badly, or catch them on a really shit day for them to strike.”

It had been a huge selling point in convincing him. Ball pythons were docile in nature, and they’d be quicker to match up to their namesake by balling up than actually strike out at someone.

Of course, the day you had been informing of this, you had no idea he was already aware of it. He knew they didn’t bite, he knew the specifics of what a habitat for them needed, he knew their dietary needs – he’d already had an Amazon shopping cart filled with supplies after the first time you brought the snake up to him, unbeknownst to you.

“Yeah,” Robin nods ferociously, hands reaching out carefully, already more than prepared to take the snake, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now hand over the baby and go do whatever debauchery you two are clearly wanting to get up to.”

“We aren’t getting up to debauchery!” you try to defend the two of you, watching Eddie carefully uncurl Lestat from his arm to pass him into Robin’s waiting hands, “Eddie just wants a cigarette and-”

“And you want to join him and probably get in some hot and steamy makeout sessions, right?” Robin finishes your sentence for you, quirking an eyebrow for a second before letting out a whisper of a squeal when Lestat takes to her quickly. His tail wraps around the length of her wrist and you’re shocked as you watch him stay just as curious as he had been while held by you and Eddie. A tad bit more reserved, but no sign of balling up any time soon.

Eddie stands from the couch, patting his largest back pocket to ensure his pack of cigarettes and lighter are still safely tucked into it, and you know it’s useless to keep arguing with Robin. She’s entirely entrapped by the snake in her hands now, whispering in a high-pitched tone that surprisingly doesn’t seem to bother Lestat. All her coos nearly resemble baby-talk. It’s cute – sort of. A direct mirror of how you and Eddie have been acting at home when you handle the ball python.

You stand slower than Eddie had, hawk eyes still glued to your friend, “Just- Just be careful, okay? Avoid touching his head, and don’t wave your hands around too much while talking, because it can scare him. He also might try and crawl up to your hair because Eddie lets him hide in his at home, and sometimes he’ll pull on it because it sticks to him, so just-”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie stresses, throwing an arm around your shoulders, giving your bicep opposite from him a quick squeeze, “She’ll be fine.”

Robin nods, clearly only half listening to the debate as she watches Lestat wander up her arm in clear wonder.

It sort of does feel like Lestat is your actual human child, as though you’re leaving your toddler with a babysitter for the first time.

Eddie tugs you deeper into his side, musky cinnamon and boyish charm filling your nose as he leans down and murmurs, “C’mon.”

A Ghost song starts to thump over the speakers as you allow Eddie to guide you over to the sliding door beside the kitchen, the layout different and even a tad bit nicer than your own apartment. It’s odd, the view of the kitchen being clearer than the living room, the exact opposite of how your home is.

Home. Even in your tipsy state, even after so much time having living with Eddie and even going as far as to now own a pet with him, the notion fills you with warmth.

Maybe you’re actually a sentimental drunk.

As the two of you pass by Argyle, he briefly lifts his head, cherry-shaded eyes peering up excitedly until Eddie quickly shakes his head, making the poor man sink back against the loveseat that he occupies with Jonathan and Nancy. You almost feel bad, but it’s clear Argyle is too far gone to even feel disappointment right now.

“After you, m’lady,” Eddie chivalrously slides the door open for you, half-bowing and putting on a half-assed British accent as he sweeps his arm for you to exit onto the balcony first.

“It’s Lady Gaga to you,” you snark as you slip out into the crisp Autumn air, cheeks cooling instantly.

“Oh,” the door slides shut with a soft thud behind Eddie as he joins you, face immediately covered by the shadows of the evening, “My apologies.”

It’s nice out. Far nicer than any October has been in the city in what feels like years. The air is refreshing, dare you even say sobering, and the city lights below wink at you as you hear all the distant noises of life. Car horns, children’s laughter, music from other parties. It sounds as though one of the neighbors below is blasting heavy rap, and you swear you can hear the trill of a radio pop song from your left.

Beer, cider, pumpkin spice – it all fills the air. It’s Halloween, and it’s nice.

The breeze is electric with all the livelihood, sending goosebumps up your arms as you approach the railing, looking out across a night sky painted some sort of faded cross between navy and grey rather than a stark black of midnight.

It all turns to static the moment Eddie wraps his arms around your waist from behind you, heavy pack of cigarettes in his palm as his lips find solace in one of the few bare patches of skin on your shoulder.

“God, I love Halloween,” he murmurs against you, his breath hot as it catches across your costume.

God, I love you.

You can’t help the cheesy thought as a hand comes up to grip Eddie’s forearm, giving three short squeezes, pulling him just a tad bit closer. But it’s true – Halloween was wonderful, you’d always enjoyed any excuse to get together with your friends and family, but it had never felt quite like this.

Planning cliche dates during the season, movie marathons spent cuddling up with your other half rather than sitting across on a couch from friends. Kisses in the pumpkin patch. Cider on his lips. Putting up decorations and ending up chasing each other around the apartment, landing in a pile of limbs that slot against one another perfectly. Arguing about which decorations should go on the balcony, which garland to line your front door with.

It wasn’t a replacement for spending time with your friends. And there were still crude jokes, still bickering over timing of plans and locations to visit. It still felt like spending the holiday with friends – it was spending it with your best friend.

Eddie Munson. Your best friend. Your boyfriend. The sentiment is unexpected to past you, but so entirely welcome by the you currently enveloped in his embrace.

“I used to insist on spending Halloween alone, you know,” you mumble as his chin digs in the point where your shoulder connects to your neck, vision blurring as you continue to stare out at the tiny busy streets, “Just, like, lay around in my dorm. Watch shitty horror movies on my laptop until I got too scared and had to find some dumb comedy to help me sleep. It was the only day of the year where my roommate sort of acknowledged my existence. She was the one who’d go out, and she’d get all this candy and share it with me.”

You don’t know the point of your rambling, but Eddie is listening intently anyways.

You turn carefully in his arms, now mesmerized by how his face looks in the warm glow of the seasonal lights Robin and Steve had put up. Shades of orange flickering across his amber eyes, shadows making all his sharpness in his features more prominent.

“Talking about it now sounds kind of boring,” you muse, laughing a bit dryly, “The most festive thing I would do was going to the Halloween store with Robin and Steve once they opened.”

“Yeah?” he asks softly, arms still tangled around you, grinning gently, “I don’t think that’s too boring.”

“It was,” you insist, pressing just a little closer to him, “God, it was so boring. Not going to the store with those idiots – I mean, that was pretty fun. But it was nothing compared to setting up a snake habitat, or carving pumpkins with you. Now I can watch whatever slasher you want before bed, and I still sleep just fine, cause I’ve got you to protect me.”

His smile matches your own – radiant, proud, happy.

“Oh, definitely,” he nods once, twice. So sure, ego inflated for the bit, “Any scary men with a chainsaw dare to break into our apartment, and I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

Our apartment. The perfect ring to it.

“Didn’t you scream about that spider in our apartment yesterday? Like, full on squeal, hopping up onto the couch, begging me to save you-”

He cuts off all your teasing, even though it was true, with a kiss. Simple, strong, sure. Fingers dancing under your chin to pull you up to him, meeting you halfway and not even hiding his smile at your antics as he effectively shuts you up.

“We agreed to not talk about that,” he mumbles against your lips, tasting like the last shot of whiskey he took with Nancy.

“You agreed to not talk about it,” you pester back, trying to pull away from his kiss. But his other hand comes up, trapping your face between both his palms, and it’s a useless effort, “I just promised to not immediately share the photo of you up on the couch with everyone.”

Half the words are hardly articulate as his lips continue to nip at yours, struggling from your wide smile and the way your entire body is shaking from your giggles. You can feel the cold metal of the railing brushing your exposed lower back, a breeze picking up that can be blamed for the goosebumps racing down your spine rather than Eddie’s wandering hand. It’s not devourment, it’s not desperation, it’s not Earth-shattering.

It’s something like mending. Something like a promise.

Living together, celebrating the holidays together, owning a pet together – they were all baby steps leading to something even brighter in the future. An unspoken truth between the both of you. An inevitable crescendo to all that had been built.

Eddie whines a bit when you pull away again, but this time, your forehead stays pressed to his. A joint effort between the way you tilt your head and the way his hands press you against him.

“Do you remember the last time we were on a balcony together?” you ask in a low whisper, trying to mimic the same suggestive tone that he’s always been able to put on at the drop of a hat.

You’re not quite as talented as him. You’re actually just a giggly drunk.

His brows furrow, “What? This morning?”

“No.”

“Two nights ago, when you insisted Lestat needed to see the moon?”

“No.”

“Are you talking about the afternoon we had a redo of our pumpkin carving contest? Because I still won again, fair and square, ba-”

“I’m talking about the bet, you idiot.”

His fingertips press a bit deeper into your flesh, his lips forming a wobbly ‘o’ as he stares down at you, “How was I supposed to know you were referring to that? That was definitely not the last time we were on a balcony together-”

You shut him up with the same courtesy as he had done to you, adding in a roll of your eyes before your hands wrap around his neck to pull him into you. This time, you make it hot and heavy. Lips and teeth and tongues, grabby hands from the both of you making their way across all the exposed skin and scraps of costumes you two wear. It takes Eddie aback at first, clearly not expecting the sudden passion, but he recovers quickly.

He remembers exactly what you’re referring to quickly.

Your back collides a bit harsher with the railing as he rolls his body up against yours, not a breath of space between the two of you as he wedges his knee between your thighs. You have no idea where his pack of cigarettes has vanished to, but you don’t care. All you really care about is the way he’s holding you, the way he’s suffocating you, the way he’s watering you.

It’s hard to believe the garden within that he’s nurtured at your side for the last year was ever something broken. That there was once a time it was nothing more than dried vines and pathetic blossoms begging to see the light of day. Now, the warmth of a thousand suns was gifted to you every morning you awoke to his smile. Every joke, every small caring act, every kiss stolen just because one of you felt like it. You two may have accidentally killed that first plant you bought the week you moved in properly with him, but this?

You can’t imagine a day where the two of you ever might let this die off.

His lips break from yours, predictably painting a path along your jaw as he murmurs, “I think I do remember. But, just in case – wanna remind me?”

And for a second, you almost do.

All your coils are tight across your body, burning in your abdomen and shaking in your knees, but all it takes is the faintest movement of a shadow to remember all your friends inside the apartment still.

“We can’t,” you whisper, as if they might hear you in the glass, trying to pry yourself away from him just as his teeth start to graze your neck, “Seriously - we can’t.”

Eddie chuckles lowly against your neck, and you know exactly why.

You’d started this without even considering the consequences.

“Started something you can’t finish, didn’t ya, baby?”

Oh, damn him. That stupid low and teasing tone. That dimple you can feel brush against your skin as he moves his mouth to the other side of your neck. All the heat in your body travels south, pooling between your hips, aching for him to go against your wishes to avoid embarrassment and just finish this.

He doesn’t, though. You’re starting to believe he’s less drunk than you are, a clearer mind than your own with far more sensibility than he seems capable of most of the time. His lips leave your neck, his hands finding the polite placement of hovering over your hips. The fog is starting to clear, if only just the slightest bit, and-

You were wrong. So, so wrong.

He’s not sensible. That wicked hand placement was nowhere near polite. In an instant, he’s latched onto you tightly and spun you around, quickly bending you over against the railing so your chest presses into the metal and the cold sends shockwaves across your entire body. Your ass is pressed to his crotch and one hand holds you securely, tight enough that he can be sure you won’t fall, as the other crawls up your back at impeccable speed to press you further down.

Immediately, you’re squealing, “Eddie!”

His laughter is just as loud as all your protests as you come face-to-face with the true height of a three-story balcony, knuckles paling from gripping onto the bars.

You’d hate him for it, but you feel the security of his palm and knuckles around your waist, and you know he’s not letting you go anywhere over that railing. He’s hardly even allowing your head to hang over it.

The moment you start to lean back up against his hand on your back, he’s allowing it immediately. There’s no friction or fight as you stand up straight once more, back against his chest and your hands already prepared to swing back to smack him before both of his arms come up around your shoulders and cross your chest.

“You asshole,” you gasp out, flailing hands deciding to grip strongly onto his forearms as he cradles you up in the tight embrace from behind, still chucking in your ear as you both take several steps back. Your heart pounds, and you’re pretty sure your nails are biting into his skin.

Maybe they’ll leave a mark – you hope they sort of hurt.

“Just had to make sure you really do remember that night,” he jokes, trying to lean his head far enough over your shoulder to get a good look at your face, “I think the bars would have been a bit more exposing, though, yeah?”

Your nails dig in deeper, and his grin widens.

Bastard.

“What if I had fallen?” you snap, finding it hard to be mad at him. Those damned strong arms around you, the thump of his own heart right against the space between your shoulder blades, that fucking dimple.

“I wouldn’t have let you.”

If the two of you had children some day, would they have his dimples?

“We’re both drunk-”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“-And I’m pretty sure this balcony isn’t up to OSHA standards-”

“Oh, it definitely isn’t.”

“-And you almost left our poor son motherless,” you finish off with a forced scowl, shaking off his embrace to face him properly, “Are you prepared for that? Were you prepared to be a single father?”

God, you hate his fucking smile. God, you hope if you have real kids someday, they have that same shit-eating grin.

With a pout of his lips, he steps back up to you, looking down tauntingly, “You’re right, baby. I didn’t even think about poor Lestat.”

You hum, standing your ground, but your defenses are quickly crumbling. Your mind is running with too many thoughts, exhausting itself over everything except the residing anger you should feel at your absolute nuisance of a boyfriend.

The feeling of being held down by him in that position once more. How the heat of his body had warmed you, and you’d only noticed now that the cool air was attacking your exposed back. Swimming in the visions of what color eyes your children might have, pigtail curls of a little girl with Eddie’s defiance or a little boy who wears his shit-eating grin as he exhibits your same unbreakable curiosity.

You definitely shouldn’t have drank so much tonight. It doesn’t matter what kind of drunk you are – it was a bad idea regardless.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Eddie’s voice takes you out of your thoughts as he slides his arms around your waist, always needing to be touching you, clingy to a ridiculous degree.

You weren’t complaining, though. How could you? If given the option, you’d make a home out of his bones in a fraction of a heartbeat as well.

“Nothin’,” you lie through a sigh, head tilted dramatically, much preferring to focus on the ginger contours of Eddie’s cheeks than whatever future Jack Daniels had been painting in your mind.

“Bullshit,” he doesn’t hesitate to call you out on it. And it’s not the alcohol fueling his boldness – it’s just how he is. He knows you better than the back of his hand, the roof of his mouth, his favorite songs on guitar. He knows you. “You got this dreamy look in your eyes, and you’re staring so hard over my shoulder, I’m almost scared I’ll turn around to see a ghost in the window-”

Jack Daniels will be your arch nemesis after tonight, the culprit behind the way the words suddenly tumble out of your mouth, “Do you think we’ll have kids someday?”

You wait for the air to leave the space between the two of you with the same urgency it’s left your lungs. You wait for a crack in the air, a chasm to suddenly appear. It’s heavy – God, it’s a heavy question to suddenly ask your boyfriend of one year at a Halloween party. You’re both drunk on your friends’ balcony, and you were having a perfectly sweet moment, and you’d just gone and ruined it. And to top it all off, Eddie was still just smiling, and-

Wait.

Eddie was smiling.

The air was still there, filling his lungs with calm breaths. No sign of fear within his twinkling eyes. No chasm squeezing between the stitches holding you two together.

He’s just smiling.

“Is that really what you were thinking about?” he quietly asks.

You almost don’t want to answer. You almost want to force out cackles of fake laughter, to double over and face the ground rather than his humored expression.

“Yeah.”

Maybe he doesn’t believe you yet, maybe he has to double check before he breaks out into his own laughter. Maybe the alcohol in both your veins is just delaying the inevitable that you’d been originally expecting.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Maybe not.

Instead of laughter, instead of mocking you, he keeps a cheery expression as he shrugs softly, “I mean, maybe? I sort of hope so. And, don’t get me wrong, I know a kid is a pretty far leap from a snake, but I’d say we make a pretty good team at keeping living things…. Well, living, y’know? Besides, I solemnly swear I won’t try to name our kids after Tolkien. I’ll reserve those names for the pets.”

All the air leaves your lungs again, but this time, it’s a little less painful, “What?”

“Annie’s a cute name,” he continues on, completely unphased. It’s nearly impossible to remember that you were the one who had started such a serious conversation about the future, “I also like the name Parker. I remember you mentioned that one once, right? Something about being able to nickname the kid Pac-Man, I’m pretty sure. I think that’d be pretty sick.”

And oh, was he right. You had mentioned the name Parker once. Just not to him. Not directly, at least.

The entire ridiculous make-believe scenario had come to you during a girls’ night, after one too many glasses of wine and Nancy bringing up the topic. You, her, and Robin had all spent a good hour coming up with names for children and the best nicknames to suit them. Some had been genuine, and some had been for nothing more than shits and giggles.

Parker, and the nickname Pac-Man, had been serious for you. Parker Anthony. You hadn’t figured out a second middle name to complete the initial acronym of Pac that night, the rosé eventually getting to you, but you had been serious.

“You were listening that night?” you breathe out, only feeling slightly betrayed, “What the Hell? I thought you said you were going to put your headphones on and listen to some Metallica to unwind after work.”

“I lied,” he cheeses, hot palms against your barren lower back, “I’m nosey. Sue me.”

“You could have just joined us, Eddie.”

“And miss the chance to hear you plot out the middle names of our future children?” Eddie snorts, “Not a chance, sweetheart.”

He says it so casually, you wonder if it’s possible for a heart to burst from optimism.

“So,” you pause, take a deep breath, feeling the embarrassment creep back up your throat, “Is that, uh…. Is that a yes? That you do think so?”

Why was it so hard to repeat yourself, to just say the words already spoken?

Eddie had made it clear you had nothing to lose. You two were on the same page. He hadn’t scoffed in your face, he hadn’t even pulled away at the mere mention of the idea. Instead, he had leaned fully into it, head-first as he slid right into the imaginary future with you. He’d given a name to the little girl with his hair and his spunk, to the little boy with his dimples and his mischief.

Was it still a little too soon, too fast? Was that where the hesitation was born from?

It just all felt a bit too easy. After the rocky start you two had endured, this entire last year had just felt too simple.

Of course, even if the hesitation was sitting there in the pit of your stomach alongside all of your anxieties, all of your waiting for the other shoe to drop, Eddie easily soothes it all over as he gives a slow nod and responds, “Yeah. I do – I really do.”

And you clearly wear your heart on your sleeve, emotions painted across your eyes and cheeks for him to read clear as day, because he notices that catch in your breath.

“Not right now,” he rushes to add on, “I mean, listen, we’re still adjusting to Lestat. I think I’d like to be a cat dad too, before I even think about being a girl dad.”

“You’re gonna be a girl dad?” you laugh out without thinking, starting to thaw into a conversation that Jack Daniels had begun but you know you can surely finish with Eddie at your side, “That’s… unexpected.”

His face scrunches for the first time during the entire conversation, “What? You don’t think I’d be a good girl dad? I already deal with my rat’s nest of hair, so I know I’d be at least decent at braiding. And can you imagine getting to take a mini-you to shows, or buying her some cute unicorn helmet once she’s old enough to ride ol’ Nightfury? God, I think I might die from cuteness overload…”

Your cheeks are aching, ears ringing with his words. But all you can do is latch onto one little phrase: mini-you.

Here you were, picturing duplicates of Eddie bounding around the two of you, and you hadn’t considered what he might be seeing.

Not a child with his spunk. No, he’s seeing a little girl with your wit. A little boy with your stubbornness. Those eyes of his, nearly resembling heart-shapes at this point, weren’t wanting to see carbon copies of his whiskey irises. He wanted yours to be looking back up at him.

Hearts clearly can’t burst from an overload of optimism, of happiness. Yours beats wildly as proof, still intact behind your ribs that bloom with rosebuds for the boy pressed to your front.

“Mini-me?” you murmur, making him trail off, focused entirely on you so sincerely you could choke up. You shake your head, letting out a soft huff of air, smiling down at the ground, “No, I- I think you’ll be an amazing dad, Eddie. I just didn’t…. I just forgot…”

“That I’m with you all the way?” he finishes your sentence for you, one eyebrow arched as he gives a squeeze to one of your hips, “You could decide tomorrow you don’t even want to talk about having a kid ever again, that you’d rather get ten more snakes and live as some sort of cryptic couple somewhere in the Midwest the rest of our lives, and I’d be just as excited. I don’t really care where we end up, sweetheart – I just care that it’s with you,” You can no longer tell if it’s his words or the remnants of alcohol in your system that has you tearing up. All you know is that you are, and it’s ridiculous, but it’s fine, because all you see are dark brown eyes and entire realms of possibility in front of you, “Girl dad, snake dad, cat dad – whatever you need from me, I’m your guy.”

When the first tear falls, you're quick to shoot one hand up to your cheek in order to swipe it away as the other reaches out blindly to smack Eddie softly, “Shut up. Stop being cheesy. I’m too drunk for this.”

“You’re right,” he nods ferociously, taking over the duty of wiping away your tears without so much as mentioning it, “Wanna make out again instead?”

You let out a snort, and it eggs him on.

“Or, hey,” his eyes light up, some of the seriousness of the moment fading naturally, “Maybe we ditch this party and start practicing. You know, in case we still want kids someday.”

His pupils widen a bit, and you know surely that it’s only half a joke. You don’t miss the way his breathing picks up at the thought.

“Careful, big boy,” you tease, leaning into his feathery touch on your cheek, relishing the way the nickname draws him under your spell even when you aren’t saying it with an ounce of gravity, “It’d be awfully dangerous to get yourself worked up in such short shorts.”

Saying it outloud almost makes you want to see it, genuinely.

“Worked up?” he scoffs, backing up a little, caught off-guard, “Who says I’m getting worked up? I’m not getting worked up.”

It doesn’t matter how many steps back he takes from you, you still follow, your palm still lands dead center on his chest as you roll your eyes, “Right. Because I’m totally meant to believe that the guy who used to jack off to Playboy magazines with girls who looked like me isn’t going to pop a boner at the thought of fucking a baby into me-”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Nearly more resembling a bite, his canines digging right into your bottom lip as he pulls you forward and collapses back against the glass door behind him.

No words are spoken, no subtle interruptions for this kiss. Toying a dangerous line, dancing along a narrow cliff, and he’s the one who’s decided to drag the two of you off of it.

You don’t mind. You’d follow him to the ends of the world if he asked you to.

When one of his hands reaches up to your scalp, tugging at the roots of your hair for no other reason than he can, your mouth opens up into a silent laugh. An invitation, a jeer, a challenge. A quiet whisper of go ahead, do it. Consume me already.

He’s already everything to you. He’s already a definition of home thinly veiled with skin and bones, a future with a heartbeat.

His tongue down your throat doesn’t change the matter. Just reclaims it.

A whine is lost in translation somewhere from the back of your throat and right into his cheeks. His right hand wraps around some of the skin of one of your thighs, encouraging it to lift up to his hip, and you can still feel the memory of his usual rings imprinting into your skin. A permanent tattoo, a ghost of a feeling that’ll haunt you for all time – you love it. You want to live there forever, right here in this haunted house, collecting memories and dust of all that he is.

Haunted houses are only lonely when you’re left to wander these halls all by yourself, and you think he’d truly cross over into the actual afterlife rather than leave you like that.

The kiss is almost enough to forget where you are and who’s waiting on you inside the apartment. It’s almost enough to have you recreating that fateful night from over a year ago, to let him bend you back over this balcony railing again, and this time, any squeals you let out won’t be of fear. You’d face that fall head on.

His hot hands on your waist, his tongue in your cheek, his knee once again pressed between your inner thighs. Him, him, him-

A sharp rap sounds on the sliding door behind Eddie, and you’ve never jumped apart faster.

It’s Robin and Nancy at the door, Lestat happily wrapped around Robin’s forearm as she waves and points eagerly to him and Nancy simply crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow as though she might have been a disappointed mother rather than a friend at the moment.

You done? Robin mouths, exaggerating her silent enunciation.

As you nod, Eddie only deeply sighs, throwing his head back against the glass with a soft thump. Nancy is quick to throw out a palm against the glass and tap back at him, mimicking swatting him for his theatrics.

Eddie pays no mind to Nancy’s retaliation, or maybe he just doesn’t see it, as he whines out, “I didn’t even get my cigarette.”

“Oh, cut it out, drama queen,” you snicker, trying to hide all your breathlessness as you fully pull away, “We’ve left our son alone long enough. You can chainsmoke to your heart’s desire once we get back home.”

You’re already walking towards the door, Nancy and Robin having retreated further into the kitchen, when he catches your wrist to tug you back close to him. He leans down, deliberate and careful to make sure his lips catch against the lobe of your ear, whispering soft as night, “Can’t chainsmoke if I’m too busy fucking a baby into you, sweetheart.”

It feels like someone’s poured literal fire across your body. As if flames have been dumped over the crown of your head, and are licking their pathway down your spine.

“Eddie.”

If you don’t get inside within the next ten seconds, you’re definitely going to make a decision you regret.

He’s chuckling the entire time he steps around you, opening the door and waving for you to slip inside in front of him. Your entire body is still burning so violently, you barely register the way his fingers hang at his side and make a point to brush the back of your thigh when you pass him.

Bastard, you want to snipe, but instead you just smile.

—

The next morning, you’re awoken by the incessant pinging of your phone.

You try to ignore it at first, burying your head deeper beneath the covers as a headache pulses at the edges of your mind, but after the fifth ping, it becomes impossible.

“Who the fuck is texting us this early?” Eddie’s muffled voice complains into his pillow, facedown with one arm thrown across you securely.

You can even feel him kick his bare legs in a show of defiance next to yours at the edge of the bed. If it wasn’t for the late night prior catching up to you, it’d be something sweet to laugh at.

“What time is it?” you croak, scooching further up the bed, making Eddie’s arm around you only tighten. As if he can stop you from getting out of bed, or delay the inevitable by resisting you checking the phone, “Is it even early?”

His free arm that had been tucked below his pillow flings out to the bedside table quickly, grabbing blindly for at least one of your phones. It doesn’t really matter if it’s yours or his; he’s got the password to both.

“It’s eight in the fucking morning,” he curses, seeming more awake as he notices that he was right in it being early. “How in the fuck is anyone up right now? We didn’t leave until nearly three.”

His arm is finally loose enough for you to sit up properly, tugging the comforter with you to keep your bare chest covered, “Lemme see it.”

“If it’s Harrington, can you post my bail for murder?”

“You’re not killing Steve,” you nonchalantly reply as you snatch the phone right out of his hand. It had been yours, unsurprisingly. You don’t even know if Eddie remembered to put his own phone on the charger before the two of you had promptly passed out. You hardly even remember how you managed to do so, “But – yeah, it’s Steve.”

“Fucking Harringt-”

“And Robin. And Jonathan.”

“Have I mentioned I hate our friends?”

The fog of sleep has officially lifted for you, and despite the wave of fatigue and aching joints you’d argue you’re far too young to be experiencing right now, you smile at your grumpy boyfriend. He exchanges his pillow for your stomach, shoving his entire cheek tightly to you as his arms wrap around you slowly. Clinging to you like a child, squinting against what little light pours in through the curtains.

“You don’t hate them,” you murmur, holding the phone in one hand to get a better look at the phone as the other cards through his curls, “You hate mornings.”

He hmphs in agreement, relaxing against your makeshift scalp massage.

DINGUS: WHY THE FUCK IS THERE A PHOTO OF ME WITH A SNAKE IN THIS CHAT?

BIRDIE: it is too early to be yelling

DINGUS: oh my bad

DINGUS: WHY THE FUCK DID YOU, ROBIN, SEND A PHOTO OF A SNAKE IN THIS FUCKING CHAT? WHO’S FUCKING SNAKE IS THAT?

You can’t help the gasp that leaves your mouth as you begin to see what the entire commotion was, and Eddie is lifting his head immediately.

“What?” he questions, moving to lift himself up and peer over the top of the phone, nosier than ever, “Why did you gasp? Is someone dead?”

You scroll up, finding the photo being referred to.

“Not yet.”

Steve, clearly partaking in another round of karaoke. Eyes glazed over, mid stumble based on the blur.

“What do you mean not yet?”

Most impressively, most notably, is the snake around his neck.

Lestat, without a care in the world, his upper body being cradled by Steve’s palm as your drunk friend appears to be serenading the snake.

You bite back your smile, eyebrows high as you glance down at Eddie, “You remember when we let Steve sing Taylor Swift while holding Lestat? About… two and a half drinks after he finally noticed we had him, and he didn’t flip out courtesy to all that Absolute vodka?”

“Oh, fuck me.”

Eddie flings himself back to the edge of the bed in search of his phone just as another notification pings.

JOHNNY: I’ll do you one better. I have a video.

You don’t know if you’ve ever watched Eddie excitedly type on his phone faster than he does once he’s read that message, already giggling like a fool long before you can see what he’s sent in the chat.

LOVER BOY: Johnny, my boy, you can’t just say that and NOT send it.

JOHNNY: Unlike you, I don’t have a death wish.

DINGUS: WHO’S FUCKING SNAKE WAS IT? IS IT EDDIE’S?

YOU: i will not stand for this erasure of me as lestat’s mother.

Eddie snorts and looks up at you with glee as he reads your response, “He’s going to kill us, isn’t he?”

“Can we be buried next to each other?” you respond with a question instead, looking at him lazily, “We could have matching headstones.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” his grin is worth whatever Hell there may come to pay with Steve and the Lestat debacle last night, “Should we look up designs or-”

He’s cut off by the trill ringing of his own phone, watching several messages roll into the groupchat in quick succession.

DINGUS: who the fuck is lestat?

BIRDIE: the snake, dingus.

NANCE: As someone who has seen the video… I think Jonathan should send it.

DINGUS: DON’T YOU DARE

You’re a mess of hoarse giggles, hardly able to look at Eddie for the fear of both of you descending right into a madness of laughter. Like two children staying up too late at a sleepover, the room rings out with all your little noises, Eddie propping up his chin to watch you with the widest of smiles.

Except you’re not children – you’re just two idiots, in your shared apartment, with your shared snake in the living room and your shared friends blowing up both your phones.

Mornings have never felt quite as sweet as this kind.

“We’re gonna hear an earful next time he sees us, aren’t we?” Eddie finally sighs wistfully, rolling over flat on his back, head propped up slightly in your lap.

“Oh, definitely,” you nod, taking to twirling his frizzed curls around your knuckles this time rather than scratching mindlessly at his scalp, “But who cares? You saw how in love with the snake he was after a few drinks. He’ll come around, sober this time.”

Eddie doesn’t reply, eyes fluttering shut.

You let the two of you sit in the quiet a bit longer, phones still buzzing with new messages, but the chaos can wait. For now, you just want to drink it in. Rays of vivid sunlight, the silence from the lack of the buzzing AC unit, the birds chirping annoyingly outside the window. You have one foot in relaxation, and one foot in the hangover you know you’ll have to battle once you choose to leave this bed.

“You know what sounds good?” you question, nearly under your breath. You’re really thinking outloud more than anything, but Eddie still entertains you with a hum in his tired state, “Betty’s.”

He’s the equivalent of a puppy dog who’s heard the word walk. One second, Eddie Munson is seemingly dead to the world, and the next, he’s perked up entirely. If it wasn’t for his nude state, he’d probably already be out the door with his keys in hand, dragging you right along with him.

His eyes shimmer despite heavy lids as he asks, “Almond croissants?”

A small nod, an ever present smile. You recall the conversation from the night before as you look into those deep russet eyes, and you see an entire future of late nights and almond croissants reflected back.

“Almond croissants.”

#ghost's stories #twenty four hours #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #beyond the hours #this can sort of be read as a stand alone but there's several references to the main story haha #ive missed them. sigh.#you can tell given the nearly 10k words that almost no one asked for

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aleksiej · 3 days ago

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being eastern european, the portrayal of communism in disco elysium is so special to me.

spoilers for the end of the game as well as some eastern european history tangents i guess

i was raised on a us cartoons and soviet-era cartoons and black-and-white movies about the "good communists" and "bad capitalists" and my parents always made it very clear to me what was propaganda in all of them

the american dream existed to me until i was about 9 years old and it never did since

the situation poland was in during the USSR was better than some (especially ukraine), but it also was miles behind even the western half of germany or the supposedly "punished" japan

the systems in place at the time were no good, as much is clear in any and all movies from the era, especially the comedies, which were the only movies from that time we watched, besides historical fiction pieces

the systems were failing because of USSR's imperialism and totalitarianism and because people would rather cheat their neighbors than play fair, which perhaps is just the human condition, or perhaps we're just particularly mean

all that said, disco elysium is precious to me because it doesn't sugar-coat. yes, communism is an ideal, one that we might never achieve. at the end of the day, we hope and work and work and work harder, maybe to never see results of our labor.

the deserter especially embodies that idea, that communism failed, in disco elysium and in history of the USSR. it feels hopeless, and the feeling is only magnified in the conversation with the guy himself.

he claims communism died with his comrades and that may be true.

but we are (sometimes or never or for the third playthrough in a row) a communist. we argue and everyone looks at us with pity or puzzlement or a conviction that it is all a passing fancy of harry's. of us.

and don't get me started on the communist club that harry can go to in-game. the commentary on excessive labeling and leftist in-fighting and clasist bullshit present still in leftist spaces might be too much for one post to bear. even tho i always end up long-winded and rambling.

point is, disco elysium is great and this post was fueled by the infamous "woke games" list that categorized it as "mentions communism, unsure if in a positive or negative sense".

because duh, it's positive. and realistic. life ain't sunshine and roses and fighting for what you think is right is not easy.

communism won't fix everything, it probably won't even fix you, but it's an ideal. one that we ought to work towards, even, if it's unreachable.

#communism #disco elysium #aleksiej rant

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morallygreychaoticneutral · 2 days ago

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Astarion prefers monogamy.

Again, simply my cup of thought tea steeped from my game experience. Its not everyone's drink. No shame, no blame, it's your game. Warning for triggers and spoilers.

*added note due to misunderstandings.

Please notice I said "prefers monogamy" not "is monogamous". He may be up for added partners later on down the line. But definitely not any time before the epilogue in my world.

So, why do I think he prefers monogamy?

Take..

"Iv never had anyone. Not really. Nothing that compares to you."

And mix that with...

"I had nothing for so very long. NOTHING! Not even my own body!"

And add..

"You're you. Nobody is like that."

Plus countless other comments and actions and you get a bowl full of elf who just wants something for himself only for a change.

Centuries of being forced to give up or share everything. His possessions, his person, his own thoughts. Nothing to claim as own that no one else could take or touch at any moment. I'm sure if anything was given to him, he had to fight to keep it.

I think, he would be a bit possessive of anything he could claim as his own.

You are a gift to him. Something rare and special beyond words. I highly doubt he would be willing to share anything you are sharing with him outside of friendship. I could even see him getting fussy about strangers touching you. Moving you away or putting himself physically between you and whomever just touched you without asking.

Hells, even ascended Astarion isn't 100% game to share.

"As much as I wish to sequester you in a deep chamber of my palace and keep you all to myself...there is much to be done."

But, what about Halsin? He says he's fine with it.

Is he? Or is he people pleasing?

If he had said something along the lines of,

"Oh? He wants to share does he? Of course he does. I'm not up for such activities just yet, but you are free to have as much Halsin as you wish. "

I would have gone on that bear hunt, but he doesn't.

He askes you if you are wanting to sleep with Halsin because he has not been able to meet your sexual needs. And I interpreted that as he's vulnerable and worried he's being replaced for not putting out.

Imagine you had asked your lover to not to look to you for sex for reasons you are working out. They agree and you are just relieved as hell about it.

"You were patient. You cared."

Then they come along later down the line and say they are thinking about having sex with a friend. Where would your mind go?

I would bet hard gold he weighed the options in his head. "If I don't let them do this, they might leave me for good. But if I allow it, they wont have an immediate reason to leave. Halsin is the safest option given his experience."

And what's the best way to feel less awful about a situation we cant control? Create a counter situation where we gaslight ourselves into thinking its fine.

Wheeee!

I'm not saying Halsin's offer was bad, it was perfectly fine, it was just poorly placed in the grand scheme of things. If you and Astarion were having fun again before he suggested being an extra, then it would have been easier to believe he was really fine with it.

If they wanted Astarion to be a poly partner they needed to write it better. Shadowheart makes more sense as pro poly than he does.

So for me, Astarion is a one on one elf.

I am not against polyamory. I am not trying to take representation away. I am not shaming anybody for their choices. There is just not enough specific content to support it fully FOR ME. I was actually excited at the idea of having two partners in my fantasy world. Halsin was very clear and very specific about being on board. Astarion was not. And the choice did not feel right. Add a line somewhere for Astarion where he says "Im perfectly fine with sharing, darling. As long as it is discussed and we are in agreement of course." I will happily be on board with it.

#astarion #baulders gate 3 #my headcanons

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deas-junk-bin · 2 days ago

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Something interesting I've noticed.

All the characters in the Veilguard assume that Spite is a senselessly destructive problem gremlin, and that Lucanis is reining him in and preventing him from causing harm. Lucanis himself is very insistent that this is the case, and many fans are already accepting this idea as fact. But if you pay attention to Spite's behavior, the reverse is actually true!

Since Dragon Age's handling of mages, demons, and spirits has always invited players to use critical thinking and notice where the characters' cultural biases and prejudices don't line up with what's actually happening, I do think it's weird how few people are talking about this. I suppose it might be possible to miss, if you haven't seen the end of Lucanis' storyline yet and aren't paying close attention to Spite. But even before the scene where Spite's intentions are revealed, there are plenty of clues that he isn't as much of a danger as Lucanis fears.

Once you do reach that scene, it's pretty clearly revealed that Spite has been trying to keep Lucanis' self-destructive behavior in check all along. His efforts were dismissed as troublemaking by the team, but he's actually trying to look after Lucanis, in his weird demon-y way. However, even before his true goal is revealed, Spite's behavior is always consistent with that goal, not with the generic malevolence that Lucanis and some of the other companions ascribe to him. He typically isn't hostile towards anyone Lucanis isn't, with only one major exception. Spite is a bit more emotionally reactive and vindictive than Lucanis, for sure. Lucanis comparing him to a child throwing a tantrum certainly seems to ring true. But he doesn't do pointlessly evil things for no reason.

(That one exception was obviously unusual, too. That dude did something very blatantly rude, which provoked Spite. It was genuine douchebag behavior, and he had bad vibes and needed to get his ass kicked anyway. Spite's violent response was likely an overreaction, based on the information he had at the time, but he was still reacting to someone else's actions, not just randomly turning hostile.)

Of course, you could argue that Spite is acting out of self-interest, since everything that happens to Lucanis also happens to him. However, practically speaking, I don't think that matters very much. Their priorities align a lot, way more than Lucanis realizes they do. Lucanis and Spite share a common interest in survival, something Lucanis himself will point out shortly after you recruit him, and they grow to become a true team with shared goals by the end of their storyline. Under such circumstances, it seems a little pointless to try to distinguish whether Spite is being selfish or genuinely cares for Lucanis. Both amount to the same thing in the end.

In all three previous Dragon Age games, we hear Thedosians assume demons always want indiscriminate violence and can't be reasoned with or appeased, and in all three previous Dragon Age games, we repeatedly see this assumption proven wrong. It's at best a flawed guideline based on edge cases, or at worst, a hateful stereotype. Lucanis claims Spite can't be negotiated with, that "talk doesn't work on Spite" because of his fundamental nature. But by the end of the storyline, talking to Spite and reaching a verbal agreement is actually the only thing that successfully resolves Lucanis' conflict with him!

I don't think it's a stretch to suggest that Lucanis is simply wrong about how demons work. He's ashamed, scared, and traumatized by his experience in the Ossuary, which makes him prone to to intrusive ruminations about potential worst-case scenarios. And since he's not a mage, he is, through no fault of his own, practically guaranteed to be ignorant on this topic. Even many mages don't understand demons very well. It takes a specialist in spirit magic to explain certain things, as we saw in Inquisition with Cole and Solas. Lucanis is perfectly poised to have basically zero factual information about demons, but a ton of cultural and personal reasons to vilify his new possessed self. Considering this context, it really seems odd that fans are interpreting Lucanis' statements about Spite as unbiased narrative fact.

Then again, this is the same fandom where a lot of people apparently still think Fenris' mansion formerly belonged to Danarius. Fenris mistakenly thought it did in Act I, but he later explicitly corrects his mistake aloud! (As Fenris explains, Danarius was only staying there as a guest. The house actually belonged to a merchant who was an acquaintance of his.) So maybe I'm just overly optimistic about how much detail is going to stick for people. These games have a lot going on in them, after all, so I guess it's inevitable for people to miss some things.

#dragon age #dragon age veilguard #dav #veilguard spoilers #dav spoilers #datv spoilers #lucanis dellamorte #spite dragon age #dragon age 2 #da2 #fenris

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cherryheairt · 3 days ago

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Dragon Dreamer pt. XV

previous chapter- fourteen

masterlist

tags: @beebeechaos @r-3dlips @emery-aka-emmy @watermel0nsugarhigh @delaynew @moonymoo1 @purple-1995 @littleblackcatinwonderland @fall-winter-heart97 @mandeepandee1997 @pedro-pascal-love @thelastemzy @reyndaisy @saintkittykat @theadharablack @thatkindofgurl @alexandra-001 @itsaslaminak @iv7867

gosh this one took forever. I was scared I got into a rut for inspiration but I think I'm just burnt out from life, not from writing. On a positive note, since this took so long and I had so much time to think about the story, I have gained A LOT of ideas for future chaps.

In the early hours of the morning, while Franny dressed Daenys in her protective riding gear, the Princess was given time to think over the choice at hand. Bring Cregan along to Rook's Rest for him to lead the royal siblings through the keep as protection, or leave him here to sit and await her return.

They had decided to delay the flight to Duskendale and Rook's rest another day due to Morningstar sleeping heavily in her nest. Rhaenyra had allowed it, secretly relieved to have her children safe within the castle walls another night. Daenys slept a few hours in a dreamless sleep, discomforted by the thought of Cregan being in his guest chambers halls away.

Part of her was rational, weighing pros and cons of the situations.

Another part of her, nagging at the back of her mind, thought herself to be swayed by her wants. Had she grown too dependent on the Northern Lord over the past weeks? Perhaps she was. Whether it was a good or a bad thing was still to be decided.

Daenys glanced longingly at the notebooks left neatly on her desk. She had not used them since before she departed for Winterfell. Perhaps the need to write and draw out every dream she had dwindled down like a neglected hearth. Or, perhaps it was the positive outside influence that kept her from such maddening behaviors. Those notebooks consumed her day and night. There hadn't been a day where she missed an entry, whether it lasted one word or one thousand. Black tendrils of flame or a simple budding rose.

She felt an almost urging call to continue them, to build off from where she had left. It might be good for her to document such things, like the accuracies of Lucerys' and Jaehaerys' deaths.

There was no time now, anyway.

Daenys thanked Franny as the young girl left the chambers, allowing Cregan to enter now that she was decent.

At her belt, which had been black steel molded into two intertwining dragons, Daenys fiddled with the gifted knife fretfully. Cregan's entrance had not shifted her thoughts away from the dilemma at hand, though his warmth filled the room like a breath of dragonflame. He curiously scanned the room, taking in all the personality it had collected through the years. His eyes caught the brown pelts lying on her bed, turning a curious and playful look to the Princess.

Blushing, Daenys didn't meet his eye, still turning the dagger in her nimble hands. "It got cold."

He huffed a laugh, "I'm sure it did. Weeks spent in tents in the snow, and you are felled by your own familar quarters."

She quickly changed topics, feeling embarrassed, though Cregan was more prideful than judging. "This is for you." She shealthed her own dagger again, admiring the cold black handle against the white of her armor. Shuffling through a drawer, Daenys found exactly what she was searching for. Revealing her grand find like a dragon showing off its glinting hoard of treasure, she presented a dragonglass dagger to Cregan. "To replace the one you gave away." The dragonglass had originally been a nameday present from Daemon years ago, something that she appreciated greatly but never found a use for in her peaceful days on dragonstone. It would carry a greater purpose in Cregan's hands, anyway. The tip of the handle was formed like a dragon's head, as was Daenys' dagger, a silver direwolf. Switching sigils, the two were marked by each other in all ways but physical.

Cregan took it from her hands tentatively, turning and admiring it in his hold. With the faintest prick to his fingertip, an angry red dot shot up. "Damn," he whispered, unexpecting the precise sharpness of the blade. Daenys stifled a giggle, turning to grab a cloth to clot up the small wound.

"Silly Stark." She murmured between them, smiling when he lifted his other hand to tilt her chin up.

"I suppose I need my smart Velayron to make sure I don't do silly things like that, hm?" He pondered, looking between her light eyes in wonder.

She met his grey eyes with a similarly affectionate gaze. Lifting the cloth from his finger, she placed a lingering kiss on where the wound was now no more than a darkened prick. "I should be inclined to agree. I have no clue how you have lived so long without my wise council." She said seriously, then broke into laughter as he took her by the waist and slightly lifted her off the floor to move her in front of the vanity.

Thoughtlessly, Cregan began to tie her hair up into tight braids that would stay out of her face for the duration of the flight and fight that would be expected at Rook's Rest. "I can not say, either, Princess." He said lightly, a small smile brightening his stern features.

Daenys took a moment to clear her mind, a few deep breaths while she was able to sit idly in her cushioned seat. "I want you to come with me." She spoke.

Cregan met her eyes through the reflection. "You're sure?" He asked hopefully.

Daenys nodded firmly, confirming her final decision. Glancing at her own reflection a final time, she felt tension stiffen her body. Her armor was a pristine white, not yet touched by blood or scratched by weapons. Fire would not burn her armor, for it was made from Morningstar's own shedded dragonscales. She would not burn, either, though the thought of keeping her clothes untouched if she did encounter flames was comforting. Sword wouldn't easily breach the scales, nor would arrows, though she still had to be careful to protect her face and hands.

Daenys began fitting the white gloves on to her hands, grimacing at the reminder of Lucerys. Though the gloves were a quality white leather, the backs of them were protected by small groups of more dragonscales. Though, these ones belonged to Arrax. His first big shed had come when the boy and dragon were both nine namedays of age, and Luke's first thought had been to create fine gifts for his family.

Jacaerys received a white leather dagger sheathe with scales lining it. The same sheathe he always keeps at his belt opposite of his sword.

Rhaenyra received a charming satin choker with scales studding along it, though she only wears it on Luke's nameday celebrations in fear of ruining it.

Daenys received the gloves, which she wears mostly when out riding with her family. The palms were well-worn but still upkept regularly by her. Luke always seemed to gleam with pride whenever she dorned her hands with them, so she made a point to do that often even though she hated to see the gift get so worn. She supposed that was the price of love. It wouldn't be fair to not use them out of fear.

Cregan took her hand to guide her out of the chair and to her feet, which were covered by firm and quite uncomfortable boots.

"This suits you well, Princess." He murmured softly, admiring his bethrothed in the warm light shining through her windows. "Like Queen Visenya reborn."

"Visenya was a battle-worn diplomat, I'm afraid there's a lot to live up to in terms of my ancestors." She sighed, though not ill-naturedly. She saw more of herself in Queen Rhaenys, the gentle ruler who was seen as generous and kind by the people and had a love for the arts and spent more time with her dragon than even her siblings did.

He smiled knowingly, eyes slightly crinkling at the sides. "I haven't seen these before, either." He mentioned, running a finger over the protruding scales of her gloves.

"A gift, from Lucerys, a long time ago." She told him, squeezing her hand and hearing that satisfying 'crrk' of leather crushing together. A habit she often did to stimulate her mind and keep it on the texture and sound of the gloves rather than her quickly-moving thoughts.

"A fine gift."

They exited the room once deeming themselves ready, both armed and prepared to leave the castle though their stay had been so short.

She sighed, looking to the doors that now covered only empty rooms. Four, in a perfect line with plentiful space between. It was not long ago that all six children's rooms had been lived in and filled with ruckus. Daenys held her chamber rooms at the end, enjoying her space as the eldest who got to choose the rooms first. Luke had opted to stay in the chambers right next to hers, with Jace conceding to his brother's whims and taking the next in line. Little Joff, Viserys, and Aegon were now gone, leaving even more silence and stillness in the castle. She could hardly bear to look at the rooms, for they reminded her so much of what had been lost.

"I wish you could have met my youngest brothers before their departure. You would like them." Daenys smiled sadly, thinking of how Joffrey would immediately ask to see Ice up close and how Aegon and Viserys would hide behind her skirts until Cregan knelt to their level, showing them he was a friend, not foe.

"They will return soon," he comforted, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. "This is but a temporary change. I'll meet them after we reclaim the Iron Throne for your mother." He promised.

Stiffly, she nodded. It was hard to believe that it was only herself and Jacaerys left. Even if it was only temporary, who knows how long this war would last? In the history books, some wars went years without any signs of peace. Would her brothers be grown before they came back? Would they even remember her? Remember Luke?

Turning away from the scene, Daenys and Cregan made their way to the dragonpit. There, Jacaerys and Baela were whispering together in hushed voices. They both donned similar armor to Daenys', though in the colors of their dragons and Houses alike. They looked a fine pair, already matching as if they'd been wed for years. Upon spotting the Princess and Lord approaching, Baela cleared her throat.

"Lord Stark, it is a pleasure to formally meet you. I'm glad to hear of your bethrothal to my cousin. I'm sure a fruitful partnership will be upon us soon." She smiled diplomatically, as if she had practiced the words in her head before saying them. Daenys stifled a laugh as her eyes met Baela's warm, dark purple eyes, the knowing look shared between them always making her cave into girlish whims.

The Lady was a stark contrast to her own bethrothed beside her, who scowled and pouted like a boy left out of a game to attend his studies. "Lord Cregan." He stiffly bowed his head in greeted and said no more.

"Lady Baela, it pleases me to meet any kin of Princess Daenys. I wish you a safe journey to you and a swift victory at Duskendale." Cregan said smoothly, dipping his head in respect to the woman.

Daenys reached Baela, pulling her in for a hug and whispering, "see you soon, sister. We will both bring back good news." Baela nodded her confident agreement, saying her 'goodbyes' to Jace before mounting her striped dragon and beginning her short flight.

Jacaerys seemed to flounder in the absence of his bethrothed, now able to speak more freely without any scolding looks from Baela (she and Daemon shared a fierce stern face that always shut Jace up swiftly, much to Daenys' amusement). "I was not expecting him to come along." He said, looking directly at Cregan but speaking past him.

"Of course he's coming, brother. I need a skilled swordsman at my side." She said lightly, approaching the perch just past him to scritch at Vermax's chin, who had climbed slightly up to meet the one who had not visited for quite some time. The yellow eyes of the dragon seemed to follow Cregan closely, a dangerous mirror of his rider.

"Am I not a skilled swordsman?" He asked, turning to face her with a hand resting on his sword's pommel.

You're a swordsman.

She refrained herself from quipping so meanly in front of Cregan, knowing Jacaerys would be embarrassing and offended rather than play along with her teasings as he usually did. "Of course you are." She soothed. "But who knows how many men will be stationed in the keep? I want to ensure there are no slip-ups or chances for a sneak attack."

Reluctantly, he backed down. With a brief touch to her arm, Jacaerys bid Daenys a safe flight. "Do not land until it is clear." He advised, earning an annoyed glare from his sister.

"I fear that I am now the more experienced fighter here, Jace." She said, raising a light brow. He rolled his dark eyes, stepping off the platform and situating himself on Vermax's dark red saddle. With a shout, the green dragon was out of sight past the mouth of the cave.

Cregan took a gloved hand in his, squeezing twice in a supporting reminder. "Best we don't let him get too far ahead. Or else the whole keep might just be burned down."

"Vermax and Jace have quite the fiery temperments." Daenys stated. "Morningstar, are you awake?" She called into the darkness.

Hearing a clicking response from the dragoness, Daenys felt her shoulders relax from the tension they had carried all night. The white dragon appeared from the depths, showing her bright violet gaze set straight on the two as she swaggered towards them. Glancing to her shoulders, Daenys gingerly reached out to glide a hand near the wound. It looked significantly better now that a balm had been applied and the wound properly cleaned. Instead of the angry red that it had been, the claw marks were now a dark pink color that mostly showed irritation rather than blood. The wounds were not as deep as she originally feared. "My brave girl. Are you ready to fly again?"

Morningstar trilled as if to wholeheartedly agree. Her wings fluttered as she met Daenys' hand with her large muzzle, a purr escaping her throat. "Let us go, then." She told Cregan, whose storm-grey eyes had never quite left her.

Together, they mounted the dragoness and left the cave with a joyful roar from Morningstar.

It was not long before they caught up with Vermax, who trilled when he saw his kin flying next to him. It had been many weeks since their last joint flight. Jace smiled warmly at his older sister, and they both almost forgot that their destination was to fight a battle in the war for their family's throne.

They crossed the sea within minutes, Daenys forcing herself to have a clear mind as they approached the stone walls. The once-green fields were now brown and charred, still filled with the hundreds of dead men who lost their lives, either fighting or to Meleys' and Morningstar's dragonfire. It was all too easy to be in the air and kill men by the multitudes, too easy to take lives. It didn't even quite feel like murder due to the disconnection provided by the catalyst that Morningstar was. That didn't make the swelling guilt disappear, however.

Morningstar swopped down from the cloudline quickly, taking the command Daenys shouted to her and not allowing the men in the fields to escape indoors. Her grip on the saddle's handlebars was tight and blistering, but she could not waver now. The men who were dragging their dead fellow soldiers had now joined them, black and unrecognizable. The unmistakable smell of burning human flesh had filled her senses, making her dizzy and unfocused once again. Cregan's deep voice filled her ears, placing a hand over hers on the handle to gather her attention. "You must stay focused, Daenys." He said as gently as he could over the raging roars and flames of the two dragons. She nodded quickly, forcing the bile down her throat. There was no room for weakness now.

It was over as quickly as it started, with Vermax and Morningstar circling the keep before landing in front of it.

Directly under the shade of the keep's entrance was Sunfyre. Worn and tired, the dragon still managed a ferocious and warning roar to scare his kin away.

It was not effective, though Daenys felt a pang of sympathy for the abandoned dragon. He was left behind while Aegon and Aemond went back to King's Landing, as if he were a mere guard dog posted to a station. Daenys dismounted, earning a concerned shout from Jacaerys atop of Vermax.

She slowly approached The Golden, allowing her hands to rest low and away from her body, the white scales glimmering in the sunlight the same way his did. He rose his neck high, though his wings were lifting up and down from the floor as if it hurt to put too much weight on them. She grimaced, knowing that was her own fault. The dragons suffered, too, in the battles they had fought, and they didn't even know why. Dragons didn't care for a throne or crown, but solely for their riders and kin.

"Daenys!" Jace shouted again, jumping from Vermax's saddle and following Cregan who had immediately trailed after Daenys. Cregan had stopped yards away, standing tensely and with calculating eyes but not trying to stop her. He had seen what she had done previously, and trusted her judgement. She would not approach a hostile dragon mindlessly.

"My Prince," he stopped Jacaerys with a firm hand to his chest, earning a furious glare from the Velayron.

She took a few steps closer, holding a hand out for Sunfyre for sniff. If she lost it, so be it. If he tried to burn her, no harm would be done. Daenys held back a flinch as he did just what she hoped, pressed his sharp snout into her palm.

A sudden vision filled her mind, painful like a sharp and drilling migraine. Aegon, unburnt or harmed, dressed in his finest drapes and wearing Aegon the Conquerer's grey crown. He held a goblet high in the air, surrounded by many peasent and knighted men and servant girls. "To my brother, who has slain the whore of Dragonstone's bastard son!"

Cheers erupted from all corners of the large and echoing hall. Goblets raised and wine and ale alike spilled all over men and tables. Aegon chugged down his bittersweet wine, presenting an empty goblet for the hall to see and a young maid to refill. "To Aemond! The true Blood of the Dragon!"

Next to 'The King' sat the very brother in question. Aemond Targaryen did not hold any glasses of wine or even a grin atop his sharp features. He simply leaned back into his chair, stiff as a flagpole and face blank and unreadable.

Daenys was drawn out as quickly as she was drawn in. What was that? A vision in broad daylight had never happened before. Could she see the past as well as the future? She could not dwell on it now, but upon her return home, such matters could be explored in the privacy and safety of her room.

Glancing up briefly, Daenys' sharp gaze caught sight of a man ducking behind the castle's wall on the tower's roof. Though they had not made their entrance discreet, Daenys had still hoped to catch a few more by surprise than she did. There was no way of knowing just how many soldiers lay in the safety of the keep.

Sunfyre almost whined at the touch, yearning for attention in the past few days. Daenys knew that Aegon rarely visited the dragonpit even when Sunfyre was readily available, too deep in his whores and cups. The poor thing was so deeply loyal, but so lonely despite his devotion. "There's a good boy, Sunfyre." She spoke softly in the same voice she used for her youngest brothers. He hung his head, allowing his exhaustion to finally show in the face of trust. Glancing back at the two men behind her, she sucked in a harsh breath to prepare herself for what was inside. "Go along, to Morningstar." She whispered to the dragon, watching him painfully carry himself towards the others. He submissively lowered his neck to Morningstar as the larger dragon sniffed cautiously at him, and after some time of reunion she allowed Sunfyre to lie at her side, curling up and finally letting himself rest. He'd been guarding Rook's Rest for days. Daenys would not consider herself too far off in assuming that he'd been given no food or water. What fool would approach a fire-breathing dragon, anyway?

Cregan smiled proudly, nodding to Daenys and striding towards her to meet her while Jace gaped at the sight and glanced between the dragons and his sister. "You made Sunfyre listen to you?" He asked, approaching them too.

"He's not an enemy." She vaguely said. "But, we could use him."

"Use Sunfyre? He would take no other rider? And...I doubt he'd fly again." Cregan said awkwardly, gesturing towards the torn wings.

"If we keep him on Dragonstone, Aegon cannot say he has three grown dragons any longer." Daenys said, lifting her chin. "The realm would not know how incompacitated he is—but they will know that Sunfyre turned sides against his own bonded rider. If that's not a sign from the 'Gods', what is?"

Jacaerys hummed thoughtfully, though he seemed to agree. "And what of Tessarion, the Blue Queen? And Jaehaera and Jaehaerys must have dragons—had dragons." He whispered after.

"The children's dragons are no older than seven, brother." Daenys said. Though, she was unclear on where Jaehaerys' dragon would be now that the boy was dead. Perhaps in the dragonpits still, forced to wait for a new Targaryen to bond with. Morghul and Glaeson, two black dragons with strong Valyrion names.

"And as for Daeron—" Daenys started, rolling her eyes at Jacaerys' sour look. "The boy is only ten years of age. What does that say about the Greens if they force him to war? Though, I would not be surprised given their desperation for dragons. I do hope the young ones do not have to grow up living in a time of war." She sighed, thinking of her youngest brothers, Jaehaera, and even Daeron, whom she had only known as the smallest of babes before he left to ward in Old Town.

Jace was stunned to silence for a few moments before laughing brightly. "When did you get so cunning?" He asked, looking to Cregan as if the man could answer his rhetorical question for her.

"It is a good plan, Princess." Cregan nodded, ignoring Jacaerys' look. "How do you plan on getting him across the sea?"

"Boat." She shrugged, "I will arrange for one to be sent from Dragonstone as soon as we reclaim the castle."

The Stark nodded his agreement with her idea, unsheathing Ice from his shoulder as Jace followed his actions, wielding Sea Tamer in his hands. "At your command, Princess." Cregan said. Jacaerys opened his mouth to make a remark at his sister's previous words about her experience, but shut it as he decided against any smart words.

"Sister," he nodded.

Daenys, only wielding her direwolf dagger in hand, slowly crept open the massive wooden doors. No one had stayed to guard the very front of the halls, knowing that a dragon could still reach its ire in the shallow depths. Instead of creeping through the halls like invaders attempting their luck at a sneak attack, the trio of three barged into the castle, rearing to fight. This was their claim, and they would not let it go again.

Jacaerys and Cregan led the way in front of Daenys with their swords in front of them, brows set and eyes sharp. A split in the hall came quickly, to the annoyance of them all. "It will take forever to flush them all out." Jacaerys commented.

"I need to find Kalla and Kallus. They will be held at knifepoint first to make us surrender." Daenys said seriously, glancing down each hall and mapping doors in her mind. One must lead to the kitchens and dining hall, and the other must lead to important chamber rooms and studies. Which would the Green men hold their hostages in?

Cregan looked down at her, seeing the wheels turning in her mind. "Which hall, Daenys?"

She stilled her heart and breath, closing her eyes to focus. Even as she focused, she could not summon the same visions as before. Trying not to let frustration well up in her, Daenys instead chose the most instinctive choice. "I should think the dining hall. Hard to be cornered with so many exits."

They toed down the hallway towards the open archway to the dining hall. It was a spacious room, good for balls or feasts or celebrations of the Lord's choosing. Instead of a grand feast being presented to them, the Velayrons and Stark were instead faced with the young Lord and Lady Saunton held by the necks. Three Green soliders held them still, long swords awkwardly at their throats and ready to move.

The young Kalla was nothing like her Lord Father, who was executed the day Daenys fought over his castle. In her early 20's, with bright red hair and deep blue eyes, the Lady clearly trembled in the hold of the older soldier's arms but held a steely and defiant look in her eyes.

Her younger brother, no older than six or seven, could not hold back his whimpers of fear. With black hair like his father, Kallus was next in line to be Lord, though that would not happen for many years. Or, if he died today. The siblings looked scruffed up and dirtied by the events that held them trapped in their own home. Hair messy and face smeared with blood from the soldier's hands and dirt from the floor, eyes red and puffy from their loss, and worried lines of stress on their foreheads. Daenys did not know if they would recover emotionally from this—even after years of peace.

"Surrender now and put down your weapons!" A scrawny young soldier yelled at them. "Or we'll kill them."

"If a single hair on their heads is out of place, we have two dragons standing outside on the ready to sear you to ash." Jacaerys bit sharply, unyielding.

"Three." Daenys added, glancing around the room between Cregan and Jacaerys. There was a single door behind the soldiers, possibly leading to the kitchens. Another much larger door stood parallel to all of them, the barricaded exit to the courtyard of Rook's Rest's castle. The sunlight poured in warmly from the windows in the room, leaving the room in a golden glow. If she moved the wooden panels holding the door, perhaps Vermax could fit through the opening and finish the job for them. Though, it would put the bystanders at too much of a risk.

"Yes, I saw that." The older soldier who held Kalla sniffed harshly. "The Witch of Dragonstone has enchanted the King's own dragon. Dragons can't help you in here." He sneered.

"And what will you do when we are all surrendered?" Cregan spoke up. "Take us out of the castle to the capitol? The dragons can wait for years. This Keep's food supply can not."

The two soldiers shared knowing glances. They were not stupid. They knew they had little options in Rook's Rest now that they were surrounded by dragons indoors and outside.

The younger man shouted something that Daenys did not quite catch in her surprise. Following his command, a few more soldiers flooded into the room from the archway that they entered from. Daenys shared a glance with Cregan, cursing herself for not deciding to clear the halls before going for Kalla and Kallus. She had figured to grab the hostages and rush outside to draw them out with promise of mercy, but now that idea was drifting further from the forefront of her mind. She shuffled closer to her bethrothed, clutching the dagger tight by her side.

Four behind, two in front. The numbers were not too far against them, she supposed, considering Cregan and Jacaerys' experience and skill most likely outdid that of these greener hedge knights. Jace may not have real battle experience like Cregan did against wildlings, but he did gain his knowledge of fighting during his time as a squire for Ser Steffon Darklyn. Daenys was quite unsure of her own capabilities in a fight against swords, seeing as she had none of her own and never cared to learn the art.

This had to be all of them. Daenys hoped that thought ran through her companion's minds, too. The rest were dead and burned out in the black fields.

"Would the dragons be so willing to burn us if we had their riders in hand?" The elder scowled again. The younger straightened up, nodding proudly like he had won.

"Want to find out?" Daenys asked, looking him straight in the eye unflinching.

This seemed to give them pause, hesitant glances between the men. One spoke up from behind, clearly itching to fight. "Just kill the little bastards and get it over with. There's no use in keeping them alive, Oskar."

This seemed to have been a recurring argument amongst the stationed soldiers. "What did Cole say, remind me of it, Bennard?" The eldest asked, exasperated at the eager soldier's impaitience.

"What does it matter what that Dornishman said? The king is dead, and we have this castle all to ourselves!"

"The King is not dead, you treasonous fool!" The younger yelled back to him, shifting and loosening his hold on Kallus.

Noting the loose grip, Daenys glanced briefly towards the boy before taking a chance to look over her shoulder. None of the soldiers had prepared for this raid, apparently. All still in regular tunics and breeches, no armor was dorned at all.

"The Usurper is not dead." Daenys said, though she was still unsure of that herself. "But he did abandon your little troupe here, did he not? To gain no glory in battle or seize any land. Old and sick dogs protecting a worn and empty home." She shared an amused glance with Jacaerys for show.

"I'd imagine no one would bother to reclaim Rook's Rest a second time, given all the trouble it took to get it in the first place." Jace added. "Criston Cole wouldn't bother giving this place a second glance."

Oskar and the younger shared a look of grievance. They shared those thoughts before, too.

"They would not know if you died for this place or simply abandoned it." She concluded, gentler this time. "We will allow you to live the rest of your traitorous lives in peace, for the return of Lord Staunton's children. Or, you can share the fate of those men outside. I'm sure you heard what their end sounded like." A grim sentiment, but necessary.

Cregan eyed her from her side, though he did not speak. Wielding Ice at waist level, towering above all the men in the room, the Northerner almost made the Southern-blooded men seem dwarved. He was not here to negotiate, but carry out his Princess and Prince's command. Daenys proudly noted the glances they had all been warily giving Cregan since he walked into the hall.

Oskar, standing straight and boring dark eyes down at Daenys, spoke up first. "It would be treason." He said darkly.

"Treason to your pretender?" She snarked. "They are much too busy holing up in their Holdfast to chase after and execute every man who deserted their cause."

"I think we should take the chance while we've got it, Oskar." The younger whispered, not very quietly. His gaze grew worried as he shifted on his feet. "I want to go home. It's been moons. Me mum must be thinking I'm dead by now."

Daenys felt pity for the group. Especially the youngest, who had his whole life left to live. The elder, who might be around Daemon's age, must have a wife and children back at his home, wherever that might be.

With a sigh, Oskar nodded. Preparing to speak a truce, but was interrupted by a frustrated yell from behind. "I'm sick of this talk! The Witch will not cast any more spells on you soft lot!" A man from behind shouted, charging immediately for Daenys. She could only turn on her heel in time to catch his arm, bringing them both down to the floor in a tumble. Though she saw Cregan and Jace swiftly move to defend her, the other men that once flanked him moved in to attack them, too.

Wearing a distasteful yellow that could only be the house colors of the Baratheons, the older man grunted as he struggled to pin Daenys to the stone floor and grab the sword that fell from his grip at the same time. With her steel dagger in hand, she writhed to get the arm out from under his heavy form.

Gasping at the wind being taken from her chest at the sudden fall and weight, it was not an easy task. "Bastard witch..." he grunted out, finally grasping his sword by the sharp sides. Uncaring that it cut through the thin skin of his fingers, he pulled it closer and sat up, finally allowing her to breathe and clutch her dagger to her bossum. Both of them heaved with effort, but the wild look in his eyes frightened her to no end. The look reminded her of Seamus, who sought revenge through the wrong person. "You and your whore mother will never lead the realm, lest it be brought to ruin." He snarled out, spit wetting his thin lips. The sounds of steel clashing rung like bells around the room, impossible to keep track of as movement and shouts sounded from all sides.

As he raised the sword over his head, the yellow-dressed soldier was bumped to the ground, groaning at the impact. On his side, the companion soldier who brought him down in the first place lie died and unmoving, like he had been thrown. Daenys did not waste time to allow him to think, twisting to her front to sit on her knees as if in prayer. With a swift movement, Daenys jabbed the dagger downwards into the side of Bennard's neck. As she tore it out just as fast, hot blood shot out immediately in response to the wound, even while the man was gasping and grabbing at his neck, covering the empty slit. Blood pooled around him as he eventually gave in to the Stranger, life leaving his fury-filled eyes.

Daenys wildly sprung to her feet, taking ragged steps back from the two corpses. She tripped backward over a third, though was caught by the waist and forearm by Cregan. Panting, she clutched at his arms with bloody hands. "Cregan?" She asked, disbelieving the situation. Yes, she had entered Rook's Rest knowing she'd most likely have to kill a man, but physically doing it was a whole different feeling. Seamus burned on top of her for what felt like days, and hundreds were felled to her Dragon's blue fire weeks later. But she had never dug her steel into a breathing man's skin, never watched the light leave his eyes of the last breath leave his lungs.

"I'm here." He said steadily, showing no signs of panic or change like she did. Behind Cregan's broad shoulders, she could see Jacaerys push the final man from his sword's shaft by kicking him off of it. Turning to face the remaining two men, who had stayed with the fallen Lord's children, Daenys saw the hopelessness in both of their eyes. She righted herself quickly, nodding her thanks to Cregan before stepping over the other bodies. In front of the four remaining people, Daenys saw a comforted knowledge in both Kallus and Kalla, knowing that they were safe now as they were released from the holds.

Oskar and the younger held their hands up in surrender. "I did not wish for that to happen, Princess." He swore solemnly. "Please, spare us still. We swear to leave Rook's Rest and return home, we will never speak of this to anyone."

Daenys glanced at Jace, who had a hardened look in his eyes. He, too, had killed his first man by his own hands. Her younger brother, who she had wished to keep his innocence for as long as possible, was a boy no longer. She swallowed harshly. "Let this be a lesson of mercy from Queen Rhaenyra." Were her final words to the two, who gratefully bowed and scurried out from the room.

Free now, the two siblings released heavy sobs from deep in their chests and hugged each other tightly. Daenys smiled faintly at the sight, relieved to see both unharmed. Kalla looked up from her kneeling position, tearfully grinning. "Thank you, Princess." She said through her sobs. Kallus shook in her hold, the built-up tension from the past days finally showing itself. He could be a boy again, not a hostage doomed for death.

Daenys approached carefully, kneeling to each of their levels. "Are you two unharmed?" She asked, glancing over them.

Kalla took a moment to hold Kallus back at an arms' length while she inspected him. With a courageous sniffle, the boy nodded and mumbled something Daenys could not hear.

"We are fine." Kalla said, weakly smiling as she stood straight and brushed off her dirty skirts. "May we...freshen ourselves up? We have not been able to since our father was taken."

"Taken?" Daenys sniffed.

Kalla nodded discreetly towards Kallus, who busied himself in looking entranced by Daenys' dragonscale armor. Daenys made an 'o' shape with her mouth, forgetting the implication that the two had not personally seen the execution of their father. "Yes. Go on, we will wait for you." Daenys said. She was glad that at least they were not forced to witness the murder, but instead, Cole allowed the young boy to keep his innocence and believe his father was simply taken away.

Perhaps the one favor he did the realm.

Turning to Jace and Cregan, after the brother and sister left to their chamber rooms, she sighed. "Are you two okay?" She asked, quieter now. The room was filled with empty silence now that everyone else had either died or left. The bodies at their feet were still and growing cold, though would soon start to stink if they did not get removed. Daenys wanted no part in that process.

"Are you?" Cregan asked instead, stepping forward to hold her hand in his. His grey eyes held a slight apprehension from the way he had been unable to fully protect her—again. Daenys could not and would not fault him, for two men had attacked him. Behind, Jace shuffled uncomfortably. He had been deathly still, too, a pale look on his face.

"I'm fine, just got winded." She said shortly, nodding affirmingly. Looking to Jace, she asked again. "Do you want to step out?"

Nodding quickly and covering his mouth, Jacaerys quietly excused himself from the room to rush out the way that they had come. Daenys knew the feeling. Even now, it was hard not to spill her guts after the heavy guilt pressed on her conscience.

"I should go check on him." She offered, looking up through her lashes to Cregan, who had been staring at her the entire time. "If you can—"

"I will take care of them." He hummed, gesturing towards the door. "Go see if your brother is well."

"Thank you." She said gratefully, squeezing his hand before making her way after her brother.

Outside, barely having made it to the grass instead of the cobble, Jacaerys was hunched over and heaving. Daenys sympathized greatly, slowly rubbing her hand up and down his back in the same way their mother had often done for them. "Let it all out, Jace." She said.

"I'm not a child." He said, defensively as he stood to full height.

"I know that." She whispered, squinting against the sunlight. "But you just killed a man—no one is prepared for that."

"Lord Stark was." He scoffed, wiping at his mouth and groaning in disgust but not shoving away her comforting hand.

"Cregan has experienced battle more than we have. He fights against the Wildlings in the North—he's no stranger to death."

He groaned again, this time not so much in disgust as it was simply petulance. Daenys bit her cheek, keeping herself from smiling at the childish behavior. "He's just perfect at everything, isn't he?"

"He's three years your elder, Jace." She reminded him. "And had to be Warden of the entire North at only eight and ten. Of course he's more experienced."

"I am a Prince." Jacaerys said, defeated.

"You are." She responded, questioning his sudden statement.

"I should be like that—not throwing up my breakfast at the first sight of blood. What kind of Prince can't defend his people?" He asked, slumping down against the wall.

She sat with him. "You are young, Jace. No one expects you to be perfect right away. We've only just now been thrust into a war when there's been none since before our grandsire's time."

"They do expect it." He mumbled, looking to the three dragons in the field. "Mother has set our expectations quite high."

"She's not so perfect." Daenys said. Once, only a few weeks ago, she would have agreed. That Rhaenyra was a being of perfect grace and poise, not to be touched by the bad of the world. Now, she wasn't so inclined. Rhaenyra was her mother, and she loved her dearly, but she was still a liar. Daenys had once dreaded to leave Dragonstone, but these days, she felt more eager to move on to her martial home with Cregan and be free of the people who allowed her to feel insane. Being able to come and go as she pleased to visit seemed like a distant dream.

🗡

Jacaerys whipped his head to her, dark brows knitted together as he huffed a short laugh. "You always say that, Dae. That mother is near perfect." His words were confused, almost disbelieving.

Daenys pursed her lips, nodding. Should she tell him the truth? If she allowed him to believe Laenor was still dead, she was no better than the three of them. But the cluelessness brought him peace. He was able to mourn their father in a healthy way over time, in every way she could not. He did not blame himself like she did. "I don't think anyone is." She said finally. Now was not the correct time, anyway, when he was so lost in his conflicted mind too.

Laenor, Rhaenyra, Ser Harwin. Those who she idolized for years. She felt a deep betrayal when the two men who raised her left—a hole not able to be filled. Rhaenyra was not perfect, though her children all thought her to be. Their eyes were bright and hoping, and of course, their mother was the guiding beacon that brought the light. Adults don't share the same sentiments as their child selves did. It was inevitable to change. Daenys was at least grateful to be able to trust her mind again. Though, she was unsure if it was due to her own independent growth in the North or because of her mother sharing the truth.

She hoped it was because of herself. Just one thing, attributed to her.

Jacaerys eyed her a moment longer before giving in and nodding. Clearly, he could tell there was more to it but would not pry. Perhaps he suspected Daenys was resentful for Rhaenyra discreetly suggesting to offer herself for the Northmen. "Well..." He started, standing and offering her a hand.

"Let's check on the children." Daenys finished, standing too with his aid.

He snorted, leading the way inside. "The girl is older than you."

She narrowed her eyes playfully, shaking her head. "I am taller."

"Does that make me your elder?"

"Never."

They shared a warm and amused smile.

In the dining hall, the bodies were gone. The board covering the courtyard exit was removed, too, and the doors were wide open. The fresh air was pleasant to feel in the stuffy room. At the table, Cregan sat in front of an unmannered sibling duo. The two were working on their simple plates of food, scarfing it all down like rabid animals. She couldn't blame them, the poor things were likely starved.

They met eyes quickly, Cregan standing to guide her to a seat at the bench next to him. Jace rolled his eyes again at the effort, grossed out by the affection. He slumped down next to Daenys, folding his hands in front of them and sipping at a wine poured in front of him. The staff were floundering about, looking in good spirits. She guessed they were used as personal servents to the soldiers—none of the hedge knights having been used to such grand luxury. Daenys briefly thanked the young man pouring her wine, but gently refused an offer for bread or stew.

"Lady Kalla. Is the Maester still around?" She asked tentatively, politely sipping at her wine instead of staring at the young lady.

She nodded, swallowing a chunk of rabbit. "Yes, your highness. He is still here, only confined to his rooms."

"Still? Has he not been let out?" Jacaerys asked.

Kalla smiled girlishly, bashful at the handsome princes' attention on her. "No, he simply always stays in there. Bad knees." She giggled softly, to ease the slight tension.

They nodded in turn. "So there are still ravens in the tower then, yes?" She asked.

Kalla hesitated before slowly nodding. "There should be. I think the soldiers used them to communicate with the King."

Daenys raised a brow, nonverbally waiting for her to correct herself.

She blushed again, apologizing quickly. "My mistake, Princess. They said 'My King' so many times that the words have ingrained themselves. To the Pretender." She fixed. "If you wish, I could send a raven to wherever you wish."

"Thank you, Lady Kalla." She smiled. "I can do that myself. Though, you should get to Lord Staunton's solar and begin familiarizing yourself."

She straightened, looking confused. "Familiarize?"

"You are the head of House Staunton, now. You will be expected to host any Black forces on your land as well as our naval forces. I hope this is not too overwhelming, but there really is not other choice."

"But—Kallus is the heir." She said in a hushed tone.

Glancing at Kallus, the young boy now done with his food and swishing the sauce in the bowl back and forth with his fork, and tensely sighed. "He may be the heir when Lord Staunton was here, but it will be over a decade before he is ready for the role. You must lead, as Lady." She said firmly. "The Queen will make the change in leadership official."

Lady Kalla froze, uneasily fiddling with her sleeve. "I have not been prepared for this."

Neither was the Queen herself. The men of the realm never seem to prepare their daughters for the world, even when they are grown and alone.

"I know." Daenys said, reaching for her hand. "But you must. For your father. And him." She nodded towards Kallus, who curiously met her eyes. Kalla looked down at her brother before turning back to Daenys, firmly nodded.

"I will try, Princess." She spoke.

"That is all I ask." Daenys said, standing from her seat. "I will begin my letter to The Queen. Jace?" She asked, gesturing for him to follow.

He did, hot on her heels as they went down a winding hall to an old hallway that led to the raven tower. In it, the birds squaked endlessly at the intrusion. "What is it?" Jacaerys asked, leaning on the table that Daenys sat herself at.

"Will you join me on the boat back to Dragonstone?" She asked.

He tensed, folding his arms over each other. "I was hoping to fly out to the Twins, while mother allows me to be out. I will not have another chance under her guard."

"I know." Daenys said, scribbling away. "I think you should—the Twins are vital for Cregan's men to travel to the Riverlands."

Jacaerys nodded severely. "What if they ask for a dragon?" He pondered. "Lady Jeyne already has, no doubt other houses bending their knees to us will get greedy."

"We cannot spare the adults." Daenys said flatly. "The babes were a means to placate Jeyne's worries. The Freys are too far North to need such protection, I think."

"Not too far for Vhagar." Jace reminded her.

"She will not be willing to fly so far. She's old, and injured. Her balance will be horrible, only good for short and predictable flights. Tell them that." She nodded to herself, mumbling the words she wrote out slightly to focus.

"Right." He trailed, taking the words in. Leaning over her shoulder, he read the words aloud to affirm.

"Dear Queen Rhaenyra, Rook's Rest has been reclaimed. Lady Kalla and young Kallus are alive and well, and I have named Kalla Lady of House Staunton. Please send a spacious barge to to docks here, with a small crew of trusted men. Perhaps Lord Corlys could make the journey personally, and I believe that Eveningstar would be well-suited for the trip. She has not seen open waters since father last sailed out.

Sunfyre will be making the journey on this ship. Do not send any men who are easily panicked. The dragon is injured, but I believe keeping him on Dragonstone's fields is a good defense and show of our strength. Well wishes, Daenys Velayron."

He sat back, humming in thought. "You really think Sunfyre will take a boat back to Dragonstone?"

"It is a short trip." She shrugged. "If I can make him obey out there, I can convince him to get on a boat."

Jacaerys smiled nostalgically. "I don't understand how you did that. Even Vermax wouldn't heed your command, and he adores you."

Daenys looked out the window, past the sleek black head of a raven. "I couldn't say, brother. But I do know that it is my fault that he will never fly again, so it's my responsibility to take care of him now."

Jacaerys nodded. Looking out at the three dragons cuddled up together (though Vermax was on Morningstar's flank opposite of Sunfyre, eyeing the golden one mistrustfully), he held his hand heavily on his pommel. "I will leave now. With luck, I think I'll make it back home before you do."

"Not luck, Jace." She chuckled. "Mother will tear open a new one for you—and I won't be there to mediate."

He paled, groaning in realization. "I'll take the boat back with you, then."

"Too late." She stood, rolling up the scroll and sending it off with no wax stamped onto it. "You should go before those old Freys take their afternoon nap."

Jacaerys scoffed, kissing his sister's temple 'goodbye' before leaving the room with a swish of his half-cape.

Daenys looked out of the empty windowsil, watching Jace mount the emerald dragon before leaving as fast as he came. They had been lucky today, perhaps too lucky for her ease of mind. Something was surelt brewing on the horizon. Shaking the thought from her mind, she found Cregan at the bottom of the steps.

"Daenys." He greeted with a soft smile. "Lady Kalla and her brother have retreated to their rooms."

"Good." She rolled her shoulder slightly, wishing to get out of this dusty place and stretch her legs. "Would you join me?"

"Anywhere, Princess."

"I wish to hunt for Sunfyre. He's probably starved after all these days out here."

Cregan nodded, taking her hand into the crook of his arms. "Like old times, then."

She laughed, "that was hardly in the past. I expect it will become tradition for us in Winterfell."

His eyes lit up at the thought. "You wish to continue camping around the wilderness, even after your residence in Winterfell?"

"A dragon gets restless easily."

It was his turn to laugh lightly. "Indeed, she does."

The Jacegon onesided beef continues (like Aegon and Daenys)

Thinking of dragon parentage again-how Morningstar is Silverwing's egg for sure but unsure about the father and if there even is one for dragons. But continuing off that—Sunfyre. He is theoried to be either Dreamfyre's or Silverwing's egg, with Vermithor as a possible sire. I for one think his show face shape is kind of similar to Silverwing's show face shape.

Morningstar and Sunfyre from the same clutch? Though hatching in different years as some eggs do. They both have tremendous and unique bonds with their riders, and are around the same age.

aging Daeron down because i dont know his full lore and have no interest in adding him to the Dance at all. Technically he does have Tessarion still but she's about the size of Tyraxes.

wanted to name a sword and Sea Tamer just sounded badass so

Aemond sending children and their dragons off to war core. Those memes always send me, he'd do it too if he could

#dragondreamer #cregan stark x reader #cregan x reader #hotd fanfic #cregan stark #cregan stark x oc #hotd #hotd season two #house of the dragon #stark #hotd fanfiction #cregan fanfiction #fanfiction

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martiansodas-blog · 2 days ago

Note

Art x reader meeting the readers parents and it's an absolute mess:(

(bonus points if he finds her old room and plays with her calico critters and plushies)

ok my brain automatically went to older! art soooo…

your parents knew 2 things about your new boyfriend.

1- he’s successful.

and 2- he’s a couple years older than you.

a couple years is an understatement.

but you figured once they met him and saw how sweet he treated you it wouldn’t matter!

this did not turn out to be the case.

your mom and dad took one look at him and made a snap judgment.

they knew his type, (supposedly.)

old money. a younger girl on his arm. cold and aloof. power hungry.

it’s a shame. this couldn’t be farther from the truth.

art donaldson may be a weapon on the court, but behind closed doors he’s the little spoon who makes you heart shaped pancakes.

“so. where did the two of you meet?” your mother asks, more to be pleasant and less because she wants to know the answer.

“at work,” you said , fondly remembering the exchange, “he was-“

“heckling my daughter in the workplace?”

“mom.” you warn “no.”

“honey,” your dad reigns her in

she huffs and crosses her arms in defeat.

“i was needing some more tennis equipment, actually.” art chimes in,

“yeah he was looking for these fancy sweatbands but we didn’t carry any, we just sort of got to talking.”

your dad gave you both a soft smile

“well, you seem to make our little girl very happy.”

incoming call from: tashi

“speaking of little girl, that’s probably her saying goodnight. excuse me.”

art very politely stepped out onto the porch.

“he has a kid?” your mothers eyes looked like they could pop out of her head at any second. “honestly why on earth would you think this is a good idea?”

“yes he does and she’s very sweet. her names lily.” you said firmly.

“so what? you’re gonna be a stepmom in your early twenties? is that what you want?”

“i wanted to introduce the person i love to my parents. but obviously that was a bad idea.”

your dad ushers your mom into their bedroom. he gives you a apologetic glance before he closes the door.

you stood there, frozen in the entryway for an unknown amount of time. as long as it took for art to finish his call and rest his hands on your shoulders from behind.

“hey hey, what’s the matter? what happened?”

you didn’t realize you were crying until you started to speak. well, tried to speak anyway.

“they,” you sniffed, “she…i’m sorry,”

“oh honey,” he pulled you into a hug.

you buried your face in his toned chest.

“i should’ve known this would happen” you heaved, gripping his shirt.

“shh, shh it’s ok. this is most definitely not your fault.”

he stroked your back and pressed feather light kisses to your hairline until you calmed down. when you removed yourself there was a wet patch right in the middle of his torso.

“let’s go upstairs, yeah?” he suggested gently.

he was almost using his dad voice.

you nodded, grabbed his coarse hand and guided him up the steps.

“so this is your childhood bedroom?”

art took in the whimsy filled room. the ceiling was only about a foot taller than him.

“the one and only.” you managed to crack a smile.

it was just how you’d left it at 18. the walls were pink and green. a choice you’d made at 7 and never got around to changing.

you’re glad you never painted over it now, though. it makes you feel innocent again, like a time capsule you can walk into.

art strolled around the room. looking at drama club trophies that lined the bookshelf, the collection of calico critters and the photo booth films stuck on your mirror.

there was a good amount of dust on everything. it caused a pit in your stomach to open up.

“you ok?”

“yeah” you nodded, “just got a little carried away by nostalgia.”

art wasn’t sure if touch would be the right thing for you right now, so he opened his arms, giving you the option.

you hugged him without a second thought. like an instinct. you squeezed him with all your might, like a stress ball. art hardly felt it, though.

figures.

“meeting my family will go better. my grandmas already looking forward to it.”

you lifted your head to look at him.

“really?”

such a simple sentence gave you butterflies.

“yeah,” he chuckled, like it was obvious “i’ve told her all about you.”

you truly didn’t know what to say. so touched by the sincerity and excitement in his tone. it. it caused you to break into a smile, a real smile, for the first time since you’d got to your parents house.

“i’d like that very much.”

#i’ve never had a calico critter #i want one so effing bad #art donaldson fic #art donaldson #art donaldson fluff #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson x you #art donaldson fanfic #art donaldson x reader

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honey-tongued-devil · 2 hours ago

Text

Arcane preference reacting to a s/o with a mental health issues (eating)

My disclaimer, as someone with this issue, I’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted. I’ve actually been thinking about it for a while, but I was a bit cowardly about doing it, so I’m taking the opportunity now. I don’t want to go out of character, so I’m sorry if some characters come across as harsher than others. Unfortunately, I know I should write the name of the illness, but if I post it that way, Tumblr will take it down.

Jayce:

- He’s academically intelligent, but it takes him far too long to notice that something’s wrong. But you can’t blame him, it’s something so far removed from him that he couldn’t have understood it sooner.

- When he does realize, his first reaction is panic.

- Jayce can’t feel like just a blade of grass; he feels emotions deeply, taking on any blame, especially if something happens to the people he loves. His first thought is that he did something to make you feel that way, inadequate.

- But once the panic phase ends, the responsibility phase begins.

- He does the grocery shopping, he cooks, and his workouts become more regular, where he has you climb onto his back while doing push-ups or holds you in his arms during other exercises.

- He doesn’t know why you do it, but the quickest way to show you that your weight isn’t a problem is by showing you how easily he lifts you.

- And maybe, if you feel up to it, he can hold you in his arms with one arm supporting you while he cooks, letting you taste various ingredients.

Viktor:

- Unlike Jayce, it only takes two suspicious behaviors in a row for him to understand what’s happening. It’s something far from his world, sure, but he recognizes it.

- And he confronts you. He doesn’t beat around the bush, doesn’t stammer; he might even sound angry because he doesn’t understand why you’d hurt yourself like this and willingly give up your well-being.

- I won’t lie, I doubt that an open discussion about something this delicate with him wouldn’t lead to at least one hysterical cry.

- But he’s not brutal for the sake of being brutal; his suffering and frustration turn into anger. It takes him a while to calm down, but he won’t accept compromises.

- You’ll have meals together at home, either returning to your rooms together or straight to the house, so no one can see you and you won’t feel bad.

- And he won’t force you, he tries to handle it with as much care as possible, but there’s no day that goes by without him getting up from the table if you haven’t eaten at least two food items per meal.

- He loves you too much to see you hurt yourself in that way, and knowing that he can't do anything about it makes him feel powerless.

Ekko:

- It takes him a week—not to understand, but to process it.

- Having grown up in total poverty, the idea of giving up food “for whim” makes him react in a way that is only human.

- And the whole thing is too distant for him: everyone’s skin is grayish, 90% of the population of the Lanes has missing limbs and monstrous prosthetics, and everyone’s goal is to survive as long as possible. What does it mean that you’re against your own survival??

- As unsupportive as he might be regarding the issue, he becomes incredibly vigilant and concerned.

- He’ll always make sure you’re warm enough, that you’re comfortable, and no matter how frustrated he is, he’ll always try to stay close to you, even just holding you in bed until you fall asleep.

- Every single comment you make about your body, he’ll respond with, “Don’t talk about my partner like that,”

- no one can speak badly of you, not even you.

Vander:

- The most understanding: he was young once too, and although in his size meant an advantage, he and Silco snuck into various galas when they were younger, and there, even though he never had these problems, he would feel a strange sensation seeing that he was the biggest in the room or that it was hard to find someone to steal clothes from that would fit him.

- He doesn’t lecture you or anything like that, he doesn’t get angry despite how he grew up; he just feels sadness for you that you can’t see how little that complex matters and how beautiful you already are.

- His compromise is vegetables. If you don’t feel like eating every meal every day, it doesn’t matter, but at least four days a week, you have to have three meals.

- And for the rest, he’ll cook, making sure to prepare the best dishes made from vegetables so that you don’t feel guilty and your body doesn’t deteriorate.

- But he doesn’t support your illness, he simply ensures that you get everything you need and never go below the necessary intake without having you feeling guilty about it.

Silco:

- Hoping that the most attentive and watchful man in the lanes wouldn't notice how, suddenly, meals go from moments of lightness to something you try to avoid at all costs is a bit foolish, but he says nothing.

- He waits for as long as necessary, basically to see how long it lasts and how much you're not planning to talk to him.

- When he realizes you won’t, not anytime soon, he waits for you to be alone in his office, where you’ll find a slice of cake on his desk. Sure, it’s a low blow, but it’s also the fastest way to get you to confront the issue without too many escape routes.

- He’s a big fan of the saying “dirty laundry is washed in the family,” so if you act strange about meals in front of others, he won’t allow questions or jokes, but in private, he won’t accept “no” for an answer.

- He has enough problems already without you crying from hunger pains or having psychotic episodes due to sugar deficiency, so as long as you're under his watch, under Zaun's eye, he won't let you live with unhealthy standards.

- During meals, he becomes the strictest. He doesn’t say anything, but one look is enough to make you think twice about contradicting him. In the evening, though, when your mental health is most fragile, he becomes gentler, comforting you as much as you need.

Jinx:

- You find fertile ground, but like any good bearer of the same issue: she feels she can do it, but you cannot.

- Being with her or in her space becomes like a live-action version of Thumbelina: she’ll leave sweets, chocolates, things she knows you like to encourage you to eat so you can’t hurt yourself.

- She usually forgets to eat herself when she’s caught up in her studies and work, but if she has someone to care for, it doesn’t matter how, she’ll make sure to remember. Even if it means setting a few colorful bombs with timers.

- She feeds you. In the most visible, worst way. It’s easy that if you turn your head, you’ll find a cookie shoved in your mouth unceremoniously.

- And every single tight-fitting outfit disappears from her lair. Magically, whatever clothes you pick up from her pile fit loosely, but if you ask her about it, she’ll claim she doesn’t know what are you talking about.

Vi:

- Want to see Vi in a panic, becoming super protective and possessive in a way? Just wait for one episode, and you’ll see everything you haven’t seen.

- She’ll check on you at least three times a day, and in the evening, when you have pain or a crisis, she’ll run back and forth from the room, thinking about everything she can do to help you feel better without making you feel guilty.

- During meals, she’ll hold you in her arms and insist that you eat, but not aggressively—in a way that’s almost frightened: she’s always been used to fighting big, real monsters, but even when it came to her sister, she could never defeat the invisible ones, and the fear of failing or hurting someone she loved again terrifies her in an agonizing way.

- Like Jayce, she’ll also try a more physical way of reassuring you, like body worshipping when you’re alone or working out with you to show you that your weight doesn’t matter.

Caitlyn:

- She doesn’t know how to react; she realizes it quite quickly but fears that by acknowledging it, she might only make you feel worse.

- One day, she gathers the courage to ask if everything is okay and tells you that she’s noticed those behaviors. When you open up to her, telling her about the issues, she doesn’t respond right away and simply hugs you.

- She becomes more caring, making sure that you don’t have to attend banquets or dinners where you wouldn’t feel comfortable, bringing you food in your room to eat together, and sometimes even leaving the room so as not to put pressure on you.

- When you mention a craving, she immediately springs into action to get it for you, even if you complain that you weren’t serious. Once she understands how your condition works, she orders everything in three portions, so she can eat with you and then be the first to say that she wants more, asking if you want to share the third portion.

- If you have fat accumulated in any area, she’ll knead it with her hands while kissing you, to let you know that she loves every inch of you.

Mel:

- She notices you're having a crisis before you even realize it yourself.

- She’s a ruler, but what she learned from a young age is that a leader must appear reliable and look good, so even if unconsciously, she too sometimes experiences small crises when she feels like she isn’t looking perfect.

- No conversations, no lectures, just an increase in cuddles, moments of intimacy, and later, she brings home sweets.

- “They were a gift to me today at the council,” she lies, but sometimes she says she got them for both of you. She doesn’t want to make you feel like you’re in the wrong. She knows that when you’re ready and if you want to, you’ll bring up the issue with her, but for now, the best thing she can do is help you get through the episode with euphoria, love, and treats that encourage you to listen to your hunger rather than the illness.

Sevika:

- Like everyone in Zaun, the idea that someone would voluntarily give up food is simply incomprehensible to her.

- But she won’t comment on your problems. She doesn’t intend to invalidate them, but she also won’t encourage it.

- “Are you sure? That’s a bit too little,” will be her comment when you eat something ridiculously small, before making you a proper portion of food herself. If you try to argue, she’ll respond with a smug smile, saying that if you eat that little, you’ll end up breaking when you’re in bed together.

- As much as possible, she’ll try to get the best, freshest, and most natural food, to reassure you that you don’t need to worry, but she’ll never insist that you eat if you say you don’t feel up to it. She’ll gesture for you to come sit on her lap and keep you there, occasionally offering you things she knows you like, telling you that she’s really craving them, and if you want them too, she’ll go get them.

- If a crisis is particularly bad, she’ll try to finish her work as quickly as possible to be able to stay with you for the rest of the day and not leave you alone.

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realchemistry · 20 hours ago

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Breaking down all the Buddie from "Confessions"

Did I write a photo review with over 5000 words dissecting the episode? Yeah, I did... Hope y'all enjoy!

Gonna ignore the first call because other than the bad mustache CGI/shots where it's not even there, there wasn't anything of substance. I wonder if they used that old call cause they had to fill up time, were short on budget, something else fell through or what happened.

So let's move to Eddie going to church. After 23 or so years he felt the need to confess his sins. But after an explanation of the crazy stuff that went down with Kim, including mentioning how Eddie lied to his son, his best friend and his girlfriend, he concluded he's not deserving of forgiveness and fled. The priest looked conflicted and that's supposed to be that.

Eddie, catholic guilt and all, went to church to confess. It's like the most desperate measure, I imagine, but desperate times... He gave the priest his name. Interesting. I got so emotional when he described Chris and talked about his optimism. Lying to Buck was pretty much at the top of the list, huh? Like, Eddie knew how bad he was behaving because their relationship's made up of truths. His talk in the kitchen with Buck was actually instrumental to him seeing how wrong all of it was. They need to be married immediately. The fact that one of the prayers (?) Eddie was meant to repent with was called "Our Fathers" was also interesting because it's coming from a priest or father but also, more obviously, Eddie's got a million daddy issues. Ramón traumatized him and Eddie said he traumatized Chris and Chris ended up going to Texas to live with Eddie's father.

The Buck and T date scene was super interesting for many, many reasons:

Buck thought he had the upper hand, saying he'd pay for dinner and trying to get T to guess the reason behind it.

T already knew it's their anniversary, which Buck clearly didn't expect.

T didn't just know, he actually brought Buck a gift for the occasion.

Interestingly enough, last season we learned that Buck didn't like basketball in the episode in which his jealousy and Eddie and T and him being bisexual happened.

T, after SIX months of dating the man, somehow didn't know that and gifted Buck tickets to see the Lakers.

For some odd reasons, T told Buck he didn't even have to take him to the game, "Take Eddie if you want," he suggested.

Buck looked confused but not exactly averse to that idea and asked, "really?"

And then T went, "and die" and then Buck replied, "okay, that sounds right."

Now, let's go through all that. It's their anniversary, they're out for dinner, and they apparently had a good time and then it's like they're completely out of sync. Buck wanted to pay for dinner to commemorate their anniversary, thinking T had missed it, whereas not only did T not miss it but he also bought him a present. Problem was said present wasn't something Buck actually cared for, which T seemed unaware of. The joke about taking Eddie... Why even suggest that? Was that a test? Did Buck fail it by wondering if that was really a possibility?

Then the woman interrupted the date and asked for a picture, with some unnecessary touching involved. I truly didn't get why Buck grabbed his own phone to take the pics... Was this second nature to him? A practical way to have an excuse to ask for the woman's phone number to send the pics? She wondered this and Buck denied it but there's literally no other reason to do that. T looked at the whole thing amusedly. Buck took the pics and went back to the table, expressing how weird that was.

Was that weird? I'm honestly so confused by that scene, like... people ask strangers to take their pics all the time. Yes, some of those might be an excuse to flirt but they're at a restaurant, which isn't exactly the greatest place to be trying to pick up someone. Also, Buck made it weird with the whole using his phone thing. Even if the woman was flirting, which she seemed to be, it didn't have to be made into anything. We can assume from this that Buck is uncomfortable being flirted at in front of T but he might also not feel great about feeling attracted to somebody other than his boyfriend who's right there to see it all.

Here's where it actually got weirder. T acknowledged the fact that it's okay to look and then Buck remarked that T didn't do that. T explained he's gay by saying he's a Kinsey 6. Buck, for some reasons, didn't pick on the meaning of that so T had to explain it. That's just... I call bullshit on that. Buck, recently bisexual, lover of research and internet deep dives would know ALL about it. This scene, I gotta say, felt super wonky. At points it was meant to but at others, like this one, it just... felt off. There's also the fact that Oliver and L have zero chemistry...

Anyway, back to the date. So T didn't know that Buck disliked basketball and Buck didn't know that T was gay? After SIX months of being together? What in the hell? Why were they only talking about that at this point? I don't think full disclosure or knowing your partner's history is a must at all, but considering Buck's curiosity and the fact that he was newly out, I figured all these subjects would've part of the first conversations between them. I'm not sure what to think. Was the writing completely off? Were they unable to come up with a better excuse to bring about the past partners talk and resorted to this? It's baffling. And since it's canon, whatever the reason, I found that the whole date showcased how little they actually knew about each other, which could only be a bad sign of the things to come for their relationship.

Of course, after that comment, T revealed he was engaged to a woman and called it off. Once again, the dialogue... T saying the woman went "nuts" after their break up, taking up some "himbo" half her age... Buck figured she was just trying to get over T, and then he mentioned the name of the woman. Of course it was Abby. Of course. Buck was literally having a crisis there, but the waiter showed up and asked how everything was. T, completely out of tune with what Buck was clearly trying to process, said it was "perfect." The waiter asked if he could get them anything else and T said "no, I think we're good." Buck looked so the opposite of good. Then the waiter wondered "who gets the damage" and, at last, a flawless piece of dialogue with T pointing at Buck and saying "That would be him." Buck was handed the check and the waiter told him, "whenever you're ready, no rush" and left while Buck looked like he was having a heart attack.

So, yeah, the date was a complete disaster. It's a mix between the actors not clicking, the dialogue serving the plot instead of Buck as a character (and Abby and even the show) and finally the actual plot dictating that it had to be a disaster. Honestly, the moment this bit ended, I knew they were going to be done.

Next, Buck went to dispatch to talk to Maddie. Why didn't he talk this through with Eddie, Hen and Chim? Curious... Maddie wondering how many men Abby had turned gay was hilarious. But I can't believe they didn't squeeze in the fact that Buck's bi there. They didn't do it during the date, though it was implicit, but here they had the perfect opportunity since they hadn't done it before. It would've taken a second for Buck to correct Maddie. Again, the writing this episode was all over the place, specially cause Buck looked at Maddie offended and Maddie clarified she was joking but then Buck sorta explained himself and T... anyways. Josh showed up then, and something was totally off with the actor's hair btw, I couldn't focus for a second there.

Josh eavesdropped and caught the kissing a boy part and eagerly asked if there was another boy... Buck was quick to deny that. Well, there's Eddie... Maddie and Buck explained the whole situation and Josh apparently knew her but they weren't close. And then, again, this whole thing just didn't make sense. Buck remarked that T led her on, said he loved her and then hurt her. Maddie thought Buck was afraid T would do that to Buck but Buck denied this and said, "I thought I knew him" and that he didn't think T would be capable of being dishonest and cruel.

Let me rewind for a second. Why was Buck under the impression that he knew T? Buck didn't even know T was gay... Also, didn't Buck know about T's past? He was worse than cruel to Hen and Chim... Truly, was he not told about all of that? I just, the use of the world cruel here... don't get me wrong, leading someone on is cruel but the whole being gay and repressing it part, while not excusing it, would at least explain T's actions. But the way he acted towards Chim and Hen... that had nothing to do with self-repression. It just didn't. I need someone to explain to me in detail how come Buck was deluded to think he knew T when at this point I'd be shocked to learn he knew T's last name.

Then the Josh speech happened. I wasn't happy with it at all. First of all, what's Buck loving him to do with any of it? If T was a cruel person, then Buck loving him wouldn't justify any of what he did to Abby. Buck looked super not in love as an answer, which was hilarious to me because of course he didn't love T, he didn't know the man!!! Josh backtracked from that word and asked a series of questions aimed at... gauging how much Buck cared for T? IDEK, it was all pretty ridiculous from the start. Also, first two questions made sense for Buck to answer affirmatively but T was literally such a plot device that there hadn't been a single instance in which Buck had shown that he was thinking about T or making T's concerns and happiness his own. These things, though, get positive answers in canon as far as Buddie is concerned. The future question was interesting because Buck's answer was "I could." It's never a definitive answer, it's another instance of "I guess" from the time T echoed "my attention?" when they first kissed. It's like Buck was convincing himself then. Josh took that to advice Buck to stop judging T because Buck didn't know what he was talking about.

The speech went into pre and post Glee world and all that nonsense. I truly hate a lot of things this episode chose to be. Was mentioning a Ryan Murphy show in a RM show a necessity? I don't wanna get into what Glee did or didn't do for the queer world, the point here is actually moot because T and Abby weren't a thing before Glee. Again, whatever experience with coming out T and Josh had, it had nothing to do with what Buck was asking. Buck was worried about the side of T he claimed not to know and how cruel he could be. I think the way T referred to her and the situation was also pretty awful, in the present tense. Even if one thought T was protecting himself by being with Abby, there is still room for judgement. We have Hen and Karen, in this same show, not being cruel to anyone, for one. Also, T didn't fight a single battle. He treated his coworker who was out like scum and was racist towards Chim. T wasn't an activist fighting for his life and his rights, he was just a bad person all around as far as we know. He had no scars to show. We can pretend he had an internal battle, maybe a family issue with his coming out but there's nothing to honor him for.

I cannot believe this show did that speech so awfully and pretended it was the greatest thing since Jack Shephard's "live together, die alone." Truly, they thought they had done a brilliant job and it's utter bullshit throughout.

Moving on, Eddie went to get juice... but then he changed his mind and got water instead. Who's there to witness that but Father Brian. Eddie's outside, drinking his water looking gloomy about it when Brian asked him of he could take a seat. Eddie allowed him to and for some reason, as Brian was sitting down, looked around. Brian told Eddie about being there for the first time, as if compelled, and then asked Eddie if he went there often. Eddie immediately assumed he was being hit on. Now, whether this is indicative of Eddie being hit on a lot or he just took those words as the line they sometimes can be and interpreted it that way, I hope we'll find out soon. Either way, Eddie told Brian "no offense, I'm straight." The lady doth protest... Hilariously enough, Brian's answer wasn't "me too" or "I'm not interested" but "I'm celibate". Eddie took that in and then Brian introduced himself and revealed that he knew Eddie. Eddie was processing that and the Father part, his hand still in the air.

Brian mentioned that he noticed that Eddie chose the juice initially and then got the water instead. He asked Eddie why he did that and Eddie kinda asked "decided I wanted water?" Brian posed that Eddie was punishing himself, denying himself because Eddie didn't feel worthy. Eddie sighed and, "I don't feel worty of juice?" Brian went straight (haha) to the point, "Of joy." Eddie chuckled and looked around and spoke in a low voice as he said he didn't have a lot to be joyful about because Brian was bringing up something Eddie had confessed to him in public. Eddie's well aware he's in public... Brian started listing the things that Eddie had, Chris, his parents, his job and his mustache. Eddie was kinda not happy but that last one got him laughing and blushing. He then confessed that he grew the mustache because he couldn't grow a full beard due to the LAFD. Brian concluded the mustache was a disguise and Eddie said it was something like that. Brian asked what Eddie's afraid of seeing in the mirror and Eddie said, "A failure. A man who doesn't deserve forgiveness. Or joy." Brian said that's now what go wanted for Eddie, that he'd already forgiven him. Eddie repeated that he doesn't deserve that and uncapped the bottle to take a sip of the water. Brian told him to earn it, and to stop punishing himself in the meantime. He remarked that Eddie spent his life in service and he understood that but they couldn't take care of others if they didn't take care of themselves. Eddie smiled and said he understood and Brian told him that after praying, he wanted Eddie to do something frivolous, something fun, something that expressed pure joy. Eddie told him he'd think about it.

The Eddie scenes were clearly written by someone else because they were all pretty on point. We had Eddie conflicted, and while it could just be him preferring water (the alternative is truly devastating to me so I want to believe Eddie isn't punishing himself through food), Brian decided to go with it to get Eddie to reflect about what he was doing to himself and it worked. Eddie didn't run away like he did in church but Eddie was shown to be aware of his surroundings, so the fact that he claimed to be straight with all of his chest... Why did he do that? Why did he think he was being hit on in the first place? Why was that moment necessary within this scene? Was juice really a representation of joy? Was joy a metaphor for something else? What were tptb trying to show or say here? Would a heterosexual character need to affirm himself as such? Would a repressed one? Thoughts, so many thoughts!!!!

The well emergency happened and it wasn't about Eddie, but it was interesting cause they seem to be doing Greatest Hits for some reason... Now I gotta ask, wouldn't Eddie, as a medic, know that getting the kid oxygen wouldn't work? Why was Hen explaining that to him? Honestly, the writing this episode... Buck's first idea was to dig... funny. Eddie said someone had to get down there and Bobby told him he wasn't gonna fit this time. Interesting. Bobby announced they would pull the big brother out after two minutes no matter what, specifically addressing Buck and Eddie. Interesting.

So it wasn't about Eddie because it wasn't the same Eddie. The pipe was smaller and Eddie didn't fit. But Eddie also didn't fit himself. He disguised himself with a mustache to avoid looking at his face in the mirror because he felt like a failure. He was shown in an episode entitled "Masks" at home taking down Halloween decorations all on his own. Bobby made sure that both Buck and Eddie knew the clock was ticking and they had to abide by it this time. Unlike Eddie's well, when Eddie cut the line and Hen refused to have Buck look for him because they'd end up with two cut lines. No more lines being cut? No more alternative ways to escape? Maybe I'm reading way too much but the camera did show Buck and Eddie's reaction as Bobby singled them out.

Back at the loft, T said he had a spot right out front and they should Uber to the movie so he didn't lose it. That phrasing... Buck agreed but asked to talk first. T replied positively, "we got time." Again, funny way to put it. They were both going to the movies so why was T the one who was going to lose it if they didn't get the Uber? You know who actually got an Uber with Buck recently, right? Also, "we got time".... famous last words. He'd just said they didn't have time but then said they did and, well, as it turned out, they didn't.

They sat down around the island and Buck brought up the story at the restaurant that T shared with him about how he "almost got engaged." This was odd and T corrected Buck, "I did get engaged. What I didn't do is get married." Buck said he appreciated T's honesty and that he wanted to be honest with him. T knew this spelled trouble and Buck denied it before taking out his phone and passing it over to show T pictures of Buck and Abby. T was surprised at first but then he scrolled to a pic of Buck and Abby kissing. Buck announced he was the himbo. T agreed it was crazy, after Buck put it like that, but added it was a little awkward. Buck decided to go closer and said it was like that for him as well at first, and that he should had been honest at dinner, but T asked or gathered that it had freaked him out a little. Buck said yes to this and T explained that if he had known, he wouldn't had used the word himbo because he didn't think Buck's one. Buck claimed that he was, at least before Abby, because what they had wasn't that, not for him. Buck said it was the most transformative relationship of his life until then. Buck said one of the reasons he's comfortable with T was that T's comfortable with himself. T said he wasn't always that way and Buck said he's aware and it made him admire T more. And then dropped the bomb, saying he wanted T to move in with him. WHAT?

No, really, WHAT? Buck really got deranged thoughts cause why on Earth would he ask T to move in? They clearly didn't know each other, they didn't love each other either, so explain how this made sense?? I'm hoping that it's a case of tptb purposefully having Buck spiral and go from zero to a hundred. There's also parallels between this and Eddie and Marisol, with Buck and Eddie asking their partners to move in when their relationships were clearly not at that stage.

T's reaction to Buck's words was crystal. While Buck said he was ready to take the next step and then, for entirely insane reasons, made it clear that he wasn't proposing marriage and or an engagement, though that'd be a possibility thanks to the brave people that came before like T. WHAT? Really, no, I'm so serious. I fucking cannot with this dialogue. Moving in, the suggestion, was bad enough, but bringing up marriage? Attributing the fact that they had that right thanks to people like T? SERIOUSLY? This was atrocious. I know Oliver was thinking of his bank account while delivering those lines because they were as non sensical as they could get.

"Why be apart when we can be together?" Buck finally asked. T said that's sweet but he couldn't move in. Buck wondered the why and T answered, "Because... I know how this ends." And my heart literally stopped or skipped a beat or something. I legit thought he was gonna bring up Eddie or a hint and, well, he kinda did, though not directly.

Buck asked what that meant and T explained. He mentioned Buck's qualities but then said that Buck's feelings were new and so it was all exciting and it felt like forever but he's still figuring himself out, which was good. Buck asked what he was saying and T said that no matter how bad he wanted to be, he wasn't his last but his first. Buck interjected that they could be the same but T said they usually weren't. If he were to move in, Buck wouldn't mean to but he'd end up breaking T's heart and he didn't think he could deal with that. He got up to leave, saying he should go and Buck told him to wait and asked him if he had just broken up with him, to which T replied, "yes, I guess I did. Believe me, I didn't see it coming either. Should've known that parking spot was too good to be true. I'll see you around, Buck."

At last, free! But while the beginning of the conversation was terrible, it ended on a high note. There's a lot of questions, like: according to what he said, T knew there wasn't a future between them. So I'm guessing here that after six months, they hadn't actually discussed that because Buck was clearly on a different page. T knew they weren't long term while Buck was thinking of moving together and being together for good. Make it make sense, how were these two dating not knowing anything about each other and not discussing basic relationship stuff??? T knew that Buck had to figure himself out yet he was still with him hoping it'd be casual without actually talking about it??? Yet he later claimed he didn't see a break up coming and he could see his heart being broken?

Now, my shipper heart wants to believe the between-the-lines reading of this scene had Eddie written all over. Eddie is how it'll end... And the fact that T's answer to Buck's question contained the "guess" this time around, mirroring Buck's response to "my attention"... INTERESTING. It was all a guessing game between BT, It's also the first time he called Buck by his name, which was the first and probably last because we're not gonna see him ever again. I was glad Buck asked if they were done because we all know he got confused about it with Abby... So long, T, you will not be missed. Buck's loft door opened and later on, another did...

Finally, we had Eddie. My boy. Looking at himself in the mirror and getting rid of his disguise.

And then... I literally felt so many things at once, y'all! The music, the shot... I couldn't believe it was about to happen. And then the mole made an appearance and Eddie was wearing pink and tighty whities and I swear I couldn't. I just, even rewatching to write this... I love him so much!!!!!!!!!! I was so happy to see Eddie letting go of his disguise and allowing himself to have that joy. The fact that Ryan looked like that... I was fighting for my life the whole time, NEGL.

I kept thinking Buck was going to show up midway. I was truly bracing myself for it. But the doorbell rang. Eddie looked through the peephole. Buck was there. Eddie opened the door, nodded at him and Buck gave him a beer as an answer to an unasked question and got in. Eddie closed the door and looked at the beer, at Buck and at the beer again. He made a face and then climbed the sofa. Buck was already drinking when the camera panned to him. Eddie opened his beer and drank from it. Scene.

LISTEN. I was unhinged already because they had Ryan dancing like that. But then the final scene happened and I just... I don't know how I'll survive what I hope it's to come.

Let's break that one down:

Eddie decided to follow Brian's words. Eddie didn't forgive himself but he decided to stop punishing and disguising himself in the meantime.

The way Eddie looked at himself in the mirror, both before and after he shaved off his mustache... My heart!!!

Eddie allowed himself to do something frivolous, something fun, something that expressed pure joy. The fact that he chose to dance half naked around his house... that's very babygirl of him, and I don't say this lightly.

The pink... the moves like the ones from the bachelor party... I felt crazy.

I kept waiting for Buck to show up, like my mind was half insane at what I was seeing and half insane at the possibility of Buck seeing it as well.

The doorbell rang instead.

Why didn't Buck use his keys?

It was the perfect opportunity for Eddie to put on some pants. Eddie didn't do that… Neither before or after looking who it was.

But, really, why didn't Buck use his keys? WHY????????

Was it to hammer the fact that Eddie was comfortable opening up his door to Buck while not wearing pants?

Was it so Eddie could see him standing on the other side of the door, mimicking Brian's view of Eddie in the confessionary? Will there be something for Buck to confess in the future? To Eddie specifically???

Buck wasn't looking at Eddie when Eddie saw him behind the door, btw...

Eddie opened his door and they looked at each other and said not a word but understood each other perfectly.

I truly hate the continuity error with the shirt collar. It's gonna hunt me forever.

Buck made himself at home while Eddie considered the beer.

Remember how Eddie's choices were water or juice? Well, what about a third secret option? BEER. Buck's beer, in fact. INTERESTING.

I went nuts and will continue to go nuts at Eddie climbing the sofa. Whose choice was that? I need to know. It was so freaking cute!!!

The camera went steady and Buck was already drinking from his bottle. Eddie, on the other hand, uncapped the bottle like he did with the water, and the shot ended as he drank the beer.

The contrast in the colors of their clothes… the fact that Eddie was looking to the side while Buck was looking ahead.

Was all of this symbolic of the fact that Buck already figured his sexuality out while Eddie's just starting? I'd like to think so.

Was it symbolic of Buck reaching conclusions he'd later have to confess to Eddie before Eddie arrives to those same conclusions himself? I'd also like this very much.

Now, the episode was called "Confessions" and Buck and Eddie didn't speak to each other. Not a single word. Even in that last scene, the only one in which they actually interacted, they didn't use words to communicate.

I see this lack of dialogue between Buck and Eddie in two ways:

First, it could show how good a relationship Buck and Eddie have in order to not utter a sound and still get each other completely. Regardless of all the issues I had with the writing, I can safely say that Buck and T were the complete opposite and lacked communication all around. The space and lack thereof reflected this too. Buck and Eddie know each other so well and Buck went directly to sit down on the couch, waiting for Eddie. Eddie followed right behind. BT, though... Buck stepped away from their table and the whole conflict with T's dating history started. Buck sat very far from T at the loft and only got close to be broken up with. Incredibly enough, that final shot with Buck and Eddie sitting together at Eddie's couch was the first that ever happened... Maybe that's foreshadowing something else, like couch theory related stuff? I never really spiraled about it before but I might soon.

Second, it could indicate there's something Buck and Eddie aren't saying to each other. They didn't speak to each other because they can't -- they're not ready or aware that there is something to confess. They remained silent because it isn't time yet but if they were to confess something, it would be impossible to take back. It would change everything. It will.

This is a legit insane post. When I say they're driving me nuts, I mean it and this is proof. Even though it's the longest ever, I probably forgot stuff that I might add tomorrow.

Now please share your thoughts on the episode and Buddie and everything so I don't feel alone in my madness. <3

#911 ABC #911 #Buddie #Buck and Eddie #Eddie Diaz #Evan Buckley #Buddie Meta #911 Meta #Ryan Guzman #Oliver Stark #realchemistry #this is actually crazy #Like I literally lost it #but I needed to say something or some things and so I did and now... here it is #I truly can't believe myself but after all this writing this is getting posted #The fact that I'm thinking I might make separate posts about certain things later just to expand...#send help

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nevertheless-moving · 2 days ago

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binged dungeon meshi anime + manga after numerous tumblr posts and leg injury. thoughts based on fandom > manga> anime ride:

[SPOILERS FOR MANGA]

senshi pantyshot fanservice much appreciated but... should really be more lingering and inexplicably glistening if its gonna match up to fanservice in other animes

no yeah TOTALLY get why toshiro just said fuck it and went home after... all that. days of no food. blase dark magic/you were too late reveal. long repressed slapfight that he probably felt equally guilty and angry about. girl he loved appeared as GIANT MONSTER and BRUTALLY killed HIS FAMILY.

girl he loved STOPPED TO PULL HER TITS OUT midway through BRUTALLY KILLING HIS FAMILY.

i'd go home too

also , Maricelle, all the love in the world, but i get why everyone was mad about the dark magic. i mean it looked bad. WE know that thistle interfered but the situation looked BAD ngl maricelle i would not want you healing me either after falin appearance.

feel like changeling maricelle should have been half half-foot/half-dwarf or something like that. would have been fun half-elf reveal to party. actually bothers me that she wasn't? the more i think about it. i mean itzumi was still cat/kobold.

incredibly belated but looking back at changeling episode...is senshi shirtless the whole time???

okay nevermind did some extensive research and i'm fairly sure he wasn't

also thinking back about senshi — he absolutely knew what he was doing with setting off the traps and pissing chilchuck off...my man was living here for decades.

kabru/laois is both more and less textually present than i would have thought based on fandom.

like on one hand they barely interact. on the other hand they barely interact and Kabru is VERY much obsessed . they have ONE (1) conversation. much hilarity has been observed about that dialogue so i digress

and there is ZERO new information between that interaction and kabru planning on putting the man on a THRONE. at some unclear point his career goal becomes having his lips at this man's ear and a dagger at his neck ???

i cannot stress this enough: he invests SO EARLY in king Laios. willing to sacrifice his life for this to be realized. goal oriented. unhinged. good for him.

you could say it's just him being practical and choosing the best option based on available information but incredibly relevant new information becomes available and Kabru is STILL locked in

i'm crying over kabru 'compressing' mithran's backstory. sure as a meta framing device fine. but in universe? BONKERS. narrative critiquing clinically depressed man's tragic backstory. Super normal move.

so much nuance and different perspectives on fantasy interracial marriages and adoptions and its SO SO GOOD.

gnawing on the walls kinda worldbuilding seriously

so thistle was a teenager when this all started. that's what i'm getting. that's... man there's a lot of layers of tragedy.

wait so if elves and half-foots look ambiguously young do tallmen look ambiguously old?? wrinkly gangly old old wrinkly fuckers??? or burning the candle at both ends terrible looking tall child???

hey i'm starting to think that the monster who controls all monsters... might not be a good guy

'Delgal' holding thistle at the end ... i'm not crying. you're crying.

impossible to say if laois won the final battle on purpose or not

genuinely no idea

11/10 no notes about that fact

#dungeon meshi #nevertheless meta #dungeon meshi spoilers #drafted in july #delicious in dungeon

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hotdsworld · 23 hours ago

Text

"Beneath the mask" Neteyam Sully

Neteyam Sully x F!Reader

a/n: I advise to read warnings before going straight to the fic! Beautiful dividers from @cafekitsune

Summary: you never know what's hidden beneath the mask.

Word count: 3,2k

Warnings: 18+!, mentions of a murder, mentions of body injuries (not Reader), aged up Neteyam, stalking, noncon, oral (F receiving), piv, no protection, breeding kink, chase, knife play, body betrayal

Dead dove do not eat

You knew someone was watching you, but you didn't expect it to turn out like it did. They say people wear masks every single day, but you didn't expect the Ghostface mask to hide something so familiar.

The feeling of being watched was with you all the time, like a shadow always present and hard to ignore. You tried to convince yourself that it's just paranoia, but deep down, you knew there was more to it. Ever since the Ghostface killer appeared in the news for the first time your anxiety got worse.

You found yourself looking over your shoulder more often, double checking your locks and windows, getting worried over the smallest of sounds. The possibility of Ghostface targeting you was low, but how low? You didn't want to risk it. After all, why not you? You were innocent, and psychos like this loved the innocents the most. Something to prey on, to defile, to break… and weren't you the perfect target? A student living on her own in a shitty neighborhood.

Every day, you could feel someone's eyes on you but whenever you looked over your shoulder there was nothing. You wanted to go on with your life normally, you didn't want to go crazy and have people judge you. Your friends were very supportive, but you didn't think they would understand how scared you are every single day. Your best friend understand you perfectly well, but he was gone for a family trip so you had no one to talk to. He was different… not quite a human, but he understood you like no human could. Maybe Neteyam has more humanity in himself than others.

You were sitting at your Spider’s house, watching a movie of his choosing. It wasn't the best one, but you didn't complain. After all, he was the one that mattered right? Your compatibility and connection… but his focus was on the movie. Spider was really sweet and charming so you decided to give him a chance. You wanted something true and pure to happen to you and with Spider it felt like it might be it. You crossed your legs, trying to get into the plot too. Spider placed his hand on your thigh, caressing it a little. A gesture you welcomed, it's been a while and you're touch starved. Not even a minute after your phone rang, you smiled shyly.

“Sorry, I forgot to turn it off,” you looked at the screen, your eyebrows raising a bit upon seeing ‘unknown’. You picked up, looking around, it was a habit now. “Hello?” Usually, you don't pick up from numbers you do not know… but you had a feeling and you need to pick up from this one.

“Good evening, y/n” the voice on the other end was smooth, almost polite, but there was an underlying menace that sent chills down your spine. You looked at Spider, but he was too engrossed in his movie to notice your discomfort. How did the caller know your name? It must be one of your friends pranking you…

“Who is this?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. After all, you are in a safe house with Spider not so far from the campus. You are going to be fine and no silly prank will change that. Nothing bad could happen here, right?

“You tell me,” a hint of a challenge in his voice. The caller was taunting you and somehow it was filling you up with anxiety.

“Well, I have no idea,” you sighed. It wasn't something funny to you. Prank calls are supposed to be funny but this is just unsettling.

“Do you like scary movies, y/n?” The question was casual, but it sent a chill down your spine. Why would he ask about something like this?

“Stop playing around, Lo’ak. I'm busy right now,” you snapped, your irritation mixing up with the fear.

“Busy? Watching? Or letting him touch you? You are better than that, y/n,” the worst taunted, dripping with disdain. But who did he despise? You? Or Spider? Your heart skipped a beat. Did Spider tell Lo'ak you were going to visit? Was the called really Lo’ak? What kind of a sick joke was that? “Not Lo’ak. Keep guessing.” You looked around the living room, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable. Now you didn't feel as safe as you did before.

“Who the hell is this?” you demanded, raising your voice in panic. Spider looked at you with concern. But that only made the caller chuckle, he was mocking you.

“Let's just say. I'm so much closer than you realize, in every meaning of this sentence,” there was a sinister edge to his words that made your blood run cold. Without another word, you hung up, your hands trembling. You couldn't handle any more of this twisted prank. Spider paused the movie, he approached you with a worried expression.

“Are you okay? What was that anyway?” He rubbed your back, to comfort you a little. Spider suspected it was a stupid joke but seeing you so scared moved him a little.

“A prank call. It was just very weird,” you let Spider lead you back to the couch. You clung to him, calming down a little. His arm around your shoulders, giving you a sense of safety. You were feeling better, but you couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched… as always. Spider held you close, his presence reassuring.

“It's just a prank, don't let it get to you,” he sighed. You nodded, trying to believe his words. On the other hand, the voice on the phone felt too real, too menacing… and the way he knew about Spider. Your phone kept calling, filling you with worry. “You want me to get it?” Spider offered. He had no problem with handling a stupid teenager or a creep.

“No, I'll do it,” you tried to sound braver than you felt. You answered the call again, feeling better with Spider close to you.

“Don't hang up on me again,” the caller hissed. His voice dripping with menace and for a second you thought, what if you are talking to the actual devil? There was ringing upstairs.

“Shit, my phone. I will be back,” Spider patted your shoulder before running upstairs. You sighed, realizing you are alone again.

“What do you want? I don't find this funny anymore,” you were scared of course… but you were angry. Who could ruin your date like this? Your mood and wellbeing? Who does that to another human being? The caller was silent, you weren't even sure if he's still there. “Hello?” No answer… you hung up, shaking your head in disbelief. “Do you need help finding your phone?” You call out to Spider. He always loses his phone so it wasn't a surprise it was taking him longer. Spider didn't respond so you walked upstairs. “Have you found it?” You scan every single room with no success until you reach his bedroom. Your phone fell out of your hand as you gasped in terror.

Your date was gut open like a fucking animal. Spider's body was lying down mutilated, his insides spilling out. You looked away feeling as if you were going to throw up. It was disgusting and terrifying. But not as terrifying as the realization that you are here alone, with the predator who most likely wanted to give you the same treatment. You realized just now it was the Ghostface… You ran out of the house, feeling terrible about leaving Spider's body here but you refused to just give up. You sprinted into the woods. In the house, he would catch you for sure, but here? Here, you had a chance to fight and it was all that mattered.

“Running won't save you, pretty girl.” His voice echoed through the trees, taunting you. You glanced over your shoulder, your eyes widening upon noticing the figure in black robes and a ghostface mask walking calmly after you. He was close… to close. You pushed yourself harder, even though you couldn't breathe, even though your heart hurt. “You are just making it even more fun for me. You can't hide from me, I know you too well. I am everywhere,” his voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. You have never been so scared, but you forced yourself to stay focused. You stumbled over a root, quickly gathering yourself and continuing the run. Every step was a struggle, your heart beating quickly as if it wanted to jump out of your chest… but you couldn't stop. Not now. “Is this the best you can do? I thought you were smarter than this,” he taunts. You ignored him, struggling to breathe. You could hear his steps, urgent yet patient. You zigzagged through the trees, hoping to lose him, but he was always there… right behind you. There was silence… you kept pushing forward until you dared to look back.

“Where are you?” You whispered, frantically looking around. He was gone. Ghostface lost you… You closed your eyes, trying to breathe normally again. Just then a hand clamped over your mouth, stifling your scream. Another hand pulled you closer by your waist from behind, against a solid chest. You kicked, trying to break free but it was futile. There was no escaping his grip.

“Shhhh, sshhh, shhh. Did you really think you could escape me, little bunny?” he whispered into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. You thrashed harder, your heart pounding in your chest. “Don't worry. I will take care of such a pretty bunny like you,” he pinned you against the tree, getting rid of the pretty dress you were wearing. “All dressed up? What a shame he won't see this,” he cut through the fabric of your clothes with a sharp knife, causing you to tremble. You were vulnerable, defenseless, cornered like a prey… like a bunny.

“Get away! Get away!” Your screams stifled. You were no match for him, he was much stronger… yet you didn't wish to give up. Once Ghostface got you completely naked, he pushed you on the ground on your back. You hated him for what he did, was doing, and what he is going to do. Why then deep down there's a hint of excitement? You were disgusted. The huge palm over your mouth prevents you from screaming, no matter how hard you bite into it. Ghostface pushed your legs forward, revealing your pussy to him.

“And you are so innocent… I don't think innocent little bunnies get wet for killers.” As much as you did want to argue, his hand prevented you from doing so. You kicked and pushed with no success yet. Ghostface tilted your chin up, as he didn't want you to catch the glimpse of his skin as he raised the mask a little, just so his lips could connect with your pussy. He hummed, enjoying how wet you already were. It turned you on more than he expected. “So fucking tasty,” he moans into your pussy, enjoying it like one of the greatest meals he had ever gotten to try. You held back every single sound that wanted to escape your lips. You didn't want to enjoy it, you wanted to be disgusted and furious. You weren't supposed to enjoy it… you bit on his hand hard as he focused on sucking on your clit. You wanted to push his head away, but it was like he was made of stone. Nothing could move him. “Stop whining. I am a gentleman who prepares you, if I was an asshole I would have you suck me off, no? Be a good little bunny and enjoy,” he suckled, eating you out sloppily. You wanted to ignore the pleasure building up in your stomach… you really did, but it felt as if your body was betraying you… for him. Ghostface was eating your pussy like he waited for it his whole life. It was disturbing. You had no idea who it was, you wanted to run away and never go back… yet your body was reacting to him. “Come on, bunny. Cum for your new master. Show how happy you are to be owned by me,” he mumbled against your pussy, mixing the techniques to make you feel as good as he possibly can. He wasn't a monster… he will pleasure you a bit before completely destroying you. You held back and you wished you did that for longer, but you came undone under his experienced mouth. You took a deep breath, struggling again which only seemed to amuse Ghostface more. “Bunny already trying to run away? Not even going to please your master?” He easily manhandled you into a doggy position, pushing your head down to the ground as your ass remained up. You wanted to crawl away, anything to escape his grip but you were too weak. Ghostface got behind you easily, his cock rubbing against your wet folds. He put his knife against your neck, not eager to play any games now.

“No, no, no, no,” you could already tell it was huge, the thought made you both excited and terrified. How could you explain this? How come you were finding this exciting? Ghostface didn't let you wonder for too long, pushing himself inside you once his cock was coated in your wetness.

“Fuck, bunny. You are so tight. Such a perfect toy for me… Once I saw you with Spider I need my plan needs to happen faster.” You yelped, gripping the ground underneath you desperately. It felt as if he was ripping you apart. Your eyes filled up with tears as you bit your lip hard. Ghostface gave you some time to adjust, knowing that he's so much bigger than average men. His fingers caressing your clit gently, trying to get you even wetter so it goes smoothly. You were losing the strength to fight… Why fight? He was already doing as he wished, and your body didn't seem to complain much. Getting stretched out by that thick cock of his, your walls were giving in quite easily. As if your body belonged to him. Ghostface began to move in and out of you slowly, enjoying the way your hungry pussy clung to him. Gradually, he was increasing the pace of his thrusts, feeling how easier it was becoming to move in and out of you. His fingers rubbing against your clit in circles. As his other hand traced all over your back with the blade, sending chills down your spine. The previous pain was mixing up with pleasure, and you couldn't hold back your sounds of pleasure anymore. You will hate yourself for that later but now, you enjoyed what he was doing to you and how he was making you feel. “Such a tight little bunny. Squeezing my cock so much. It's like your pussy wants me to stay here forever, no? So wet too… you're just a deranged slut who deems herself innocent, but do you feel this, bunny? How wet you are getting for a masked killer who chased you through the woods?” Ghostface gets rough, pressing on your lower back, causing your head to be pressed to the ground. His cock deep inside of you, you weren't sure it's possible for someone to reach so deep inside of you… “Dumb little bunny, you think you could escape this?” He taunts, taking pleasure in degrading you in such a way. You were a conflicted mess, brain filled with nothing but thoughts of how good his dick felt inside of you. You were getting close to the edge again, Ghostface could feel your walls clenching around his cock. “Is that slutty bunny going to cum for me again? Such an obedient little whore… but I want to see you cum,” he flipped you over onn your back, putting his weight on you. You whimpered needily, feeling empty after he pulled out for a moment. You were desperate to cum on his cock. Your pride, morals, and rules didn't matter now. All that mattered was his cock inside of you making you cum. Ghostface pushed back in, groaning as your pussy sucked him back in eagerly. You were truly perfect for him. His knife tracing around your collarbones, moving down to your breasts. Somehow, it was arousing. The cold blade against your warm skin, the danger.

“Please,” you whimpered, looking up at him. You weren't sure if you were asking for him to keep going or to stop. You just needed something. Ghostface decided for you, thrusting in and out of you at a punishing pace, his fingers playing with your needy clit. He intended to push you towards the edge… and then off of it. The blade against your neck, pressed a little harder than before. Ghostface didn't miss how it made you clench.

“Master's perfect bunny. That's right, don't think of anything. Dumb little bunnies like you don't need to think for themselves. Let your master think for you, bunny. You just need to enjoy what I'm giving you.” Normally, you would resist, you would say something back, but you were too damn close to orgasm to think. Your eyes rolling back with every deep thrust. His tip seems to hit your g-spot every single time. “Cum for your master. And when you do master's going to breed you, pump you full of my potent seed. I'm going to claim you, bunny. You are going to be mine and mine only,” he slowed down but the intensity of his moves increased. "Moan for your master, bunny"

“Such a pretty obedient slut for me. You are making your master proud, bunny. For that I'm going to cum inside. I will give you so many little bunnies,” he groans. His cock was twitching inside of you, signaling that he's close and of course, he had no intention of pulling out. He wanted to claim you as completely and utterly his. He wanted you to bear the evidence of what happened tonight in this forest. He wanted you to remember. Even though you were weak you forced yourself forward and you pulled the mask off, gasping as it revealed the handsome blue face you knew perfectly. Your fucking best friend. The epitome of innocence was murdering people with a knife. He was the one who stalked you the whole time, making you feel like you are paranoid. “Surprised? Silly bunny,” he took off the voice changing device. Neteyam pumped you full of his cum, keeping eye contact with you. He didn't seem ashamed or regretful, he seemed pretty proud of what he did. His beautiful eyes flashing with possessiveness and obsession. Neteyam was down bad for you. You didn't know if you should feel betrayed, depressed, or angry. That man was the epitome of innocence, how come he was behind every cruel thing that happened today? And not only… Ever since he met you, he knew you were going to be his. Neteyam isn't human, you couldn't possibly expect him to act like one. Every single day he made sure you were safe by observing you. You are such an adorable bunny, he needed to make sure no one's going to steal you. Neteyam

“Oh my gosh, oh fuck,” your body shook as the wave of pleasure washed over you again, moaning loudly. Ghostface kept going, fucking you through your high. You knew it shouldn't be happening. You should be devastated but somehow you enjoyed everything.

“It's going to be okay, little bunny. You are safe with me… forever” he planted a tender kiss on your forehead before offering you the black robes. You belonged to him now, his little bunny.

#neteyam x fem!reader #neteyam smut #neteyam x female reader smut #neteyam x you #neteyam x reader #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam sully #neteyam atwow #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam suli x reader #neteyam #18+ mdni #mdni blog #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic

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