#female oc

[archivequinn]

MADNESS (Eddie Munson x American Horror Story: Asylum)

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four

Summary: Three years after his disappearance, Eddie Munson is arrested for the murders of Chrissy Cunningham, Fred Benson, Patrick McKinney and others, but the truth is very different. Unable to convince anyone that Vecna exists and that he is innocent, he is locked up in an asylum. But the only way out is to prove to his psychiatrist that he is not insane. If he fails to convince the psychiatrist, he will be executed as a murderer. He must hurry to do so, because Vecna has returned to finish the bloody unfinished business and take revenge.

As Eddie fights for his life, how far can his psyhiatrist go to save him when she finds out he is innocent? Perhaps the only reason his psychiatrist wants to save him is not because of Eddie's innocence, but because they have developed feelings for each other over time. In the midst of all this confusion, a series of secret experiments on patients in the mental hospital and a series of dark secrets make everything more difficult.

Warnings: Blood and Injury, Mentions of execution, Execution, Death, Mental Health Issues, Asylum, Mental Hospital, Horror, Psychological Horror, Survival Horror, Thriller, Claustrophobia, Prison, Doctor/Patient, Serial Killers, Hospitals, Pain, Depression, Violence, Blood and Violence, Suicidal Thoughts, death of a family member, Nudity, Smut, Sex, Slow Burn, Experiments, Explicit Sexual Content, TraumaPost-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Disorders, Smoking.

Before you read:)

This fan fiction is inspired by American Horror Story: Asylum. It contains a lot of horror and thriller content. Since the story takes place in a mental hospital, there may be various triggers. Please check the tags first as there is a lot of violence, sexuality and depression contents. This story is for adults, so close the page if you are a minor.

Please let me know if there are any tags I forgot to add. ao3 link

John and Violet were sitting across from each other in the cafeteria. Violet stirred her tasteless food with a spoon, her eyes darting to the clock on the wall. She was waiting for the evening shift to begin; it was twenty minutes to five. She was waiting for Brendon's shift to start so she could find out how and where Eddie was.

John noticed the worry on Violet’s face and spoke up. "So, this Max Mayfield you’re talking about, she’s the one who reported Eddie, right?"

Violet sighed. "She did and didn’t. They suspect Vecna used her as a puppet," she said.

Amid the chaos of the last few days, Violet had told John everything: the information in Eddie’s file, what Steve and the others had said… It wasn’t easy to process, but John was experienced because he used to be a cop and quickly grasped the situation.

"Which means the only people who can get you out of here are Steve and the others," John said. "Do they even know Max is here?"

Violet shrugged. "I don’t know," she said thoughtfully. "But why would they bring her to the same mental hospital as the guy who ‘almost killed’ her and ‘put her in a coma’?" She made air quotes, sarcastically emphasizing the points Eddie was accused of.

John smirked slightly. "We need to find a way to reach that Steve guy," he said.

Violet nodded in agreement. "How did Eddie reach him? Could we do it the same way?"

John shook his head negatively. "We snuck into the manager’s office and made a call. It was pure luck. And we got caught that time too—you saw what they did to Eddie. We can’t take that risk again," he said.

"Can’t Brendon make a call?" Violet asked.

John took a deep breath and shrugged. "Since we escaped, they’ve tightened security. They even look at the staff’s calls. So, that’s not really an option," he said.

Just then, the cafeteria door opened, and Brendon entered, carrying a metal tray with bandages, scissors, and other medical supplies. Violet stood up excitedly. Brendon approached and began to gently remove the bandage from her head.

"Eddie’s in a cell," Brendon said in a low voice. "He’s okay but very worried about you."

Hearing this, Violet’s anxiety eased a little, but she still wanted to see Eddie. "Can I see him? Will you take me to him?" she asked.

Brendon shook his head. "You’re no longer a doctor here, Violet. To get in there, you’d have to get yourself into trouble or something. And even then, I doubt they’d let you two be in the same cell," he said.

John raised both hands in mock surrender, letting out a small laugh. "Looks like it’s up to me again," he said in a joking tone.

Violet was about to give him a puzzled look when she noticed Dr Oliver and Wilson coming through the door. Oliver was feverishly explaining something to the manager. Violet turned her attention to them to listen to their conversation.

Oliver's voice was serious. “Mr. Wilson, the condition of these patients is truly appalling. They need care. How do you expect them to get better when they live in zero hygiene and cannot feel comfortable?”

Wilson responded with a nonchalant attitude “I already have too few staff and too many patients. As if that wasn't enough, you came all the way from Michigan. Be grateful if you can find a seat for yourself. Let me run my hospital and you go about your business.’’

Violet couldn’t help but smile inwardly at the exchange. Oliver’s naive determination felt familiar to her. It was like experiencing déjà vu. However, she knew it wouldn’t take long for him to learn how terrible this place truly was.

John winked at her and leaned slightly closer, whispering, "Wilson’s here. It’s time."

John’s angry outburst had caught the attention of the other patients in the cafeteria. Pointing his index finger at Violet in a threatening manner, his voice grew louder.

"Are you calling me an arsonist?!" he shouted. The wave of anger in John’s voice echoed in the room as Brendon glanced at Violet and signaled her to get up. Violet hesitated for only a moment before rising to her feet. It didn’t take her long to get into character and step toward John.

"Aren’t you? We’re back here because of you, you idiot! If you had driven properly, we’d be free now!" Violet retorted, unable to hold back her anger. "Where’d you get your license? A butcher shop? Oh wait, probably from a stove maker, since you’re so good with fire." She mimicked a lighter with her hands, mocking him.

John, furious at Violet’s sarcastic remarks, stormed toward her, closing the gap between them. Now, they were standing almost nose to nose. "At least I’m not stuck as a patient in the hospital I came to as a doctor, you lunatic!" he yelled, then suddenly leaned closer to her face and said in a low tone, "Hit me." He was trying to turn the situation to his advantage while everyone was watching.

Violet hesitated, staring at him as if she hadn’t fully understood his words. She noticed Wilson and Dr. Oliver watching the commotion from the other side of the cafeteria. Responding to John’s demand, she clenched her fist and delivered a sharp punch. At that moment, Brendon stepped in to separate them, but John wasn’t idle either. He threw kicks at Violet, intentionally missing. Violet struck a bit harder, ensuring it looked realistic.

Dr Oliver panicked and rushed over. "Please calm down; we can resolve this through conversation," he pleaded, trying to ease the tension. 

But Wilson had run out of patience. Pointing at Violet and John, he barked at Brendon, "Take them to the cells in the basement so they can cool off."

Violet barely restrained herself from smiling. Internally, she was quite pleased for having roughed up John a bit. Brendon nodded like a soldier receiving orders and grabbed both of them by the collars, escorting them out of the cafeteria. Violet could hear Oliver protesting behind Wilson, complaining about the ’’this method of punishment is barbaric and contrary to human rights’’ but she only rolled her eyes.

They began walking toward an unknown part of the hospital. The stairs seemed endless; Violet couldn’t help but think, "We’re descending all the way to hell." At last, at the bottom of the stairs, Brendon released their collars. Violet and John walked ahead now, with Brendon quietly accompanying them.

John turned to Violet with a faint smirk. "For someone so small, you sure hit hard," he said.

Violet laughed. "And for someone with all those muscles, you scream like a little girl," she shot back. John rolled his eyes but allowed a small smile to escape.

"My whole body hurts from the crash," John added. "I’ll get my rematch when I’m in better shape."

Brendon chuckled at their exchange. "You were like this when we were kids too. Always had an excuse when you lost," he said.

Violet looked at Brendon in surprise. "When you were kids? How long have you been police partners anyway?" she asked. John gave her the same surprised look.

"Partners?" he said, pursing his lips. "We’re brothers."

Violet took a step back in astonishment, studying them both carefully. "But I saw... both of you in the news article. In police uniforms," she said.

Brendon smiled. "Can’t brothers do the same job?" he replied. Violet suddenly felt like everything clicked into place. Brendon’s willingness to take such great risks made sense now; he wasn’t just here for a friend—he was here to save his brother.

Brendon stopped in front of a heavy iron door. "We’re here," he announced. Violet now focused on the scene before her. The corridor was lined with dark, narrow cells, each resembling a prison block. Behind the bars, there was only a single, uncomfortable-looking bed in each cell. The stench was so overpowering that Violet almost longed for the smell of the cafeteria upstairs.

From one of the cells, there was a stir. Violet spotted a familiar face and rushed to the bars. It was Eddie. Violet reached her hands through the bars, and Eddie’s hands clasped around hers. He had a few scratches on his face but seemed to have fared relatively well after the crash.

Brendon opened a cell for Violet and guided her inside. John was placed in the cell opposite hers. "You have a therapy session in an hour," Brendon said, pointing at Violet.

"Who’s my doctor?" she asked with a frown.

"Oliver Owsen," Brendon replied.

Violet thought for a moment and added, "Tell him to come and get me from here. I want him to see what this place is like."

Brendon nodded. As he moved to leave, Violet called out once more, "Brendon, is there a chance I could change my cellmate?"

"I’ll see what I can do," Brendon said, disappearing quickly down the corridor.

The echo of Brendon's retreating footsteps faded into the cold corridor walls. When Violet turned around, she noticed the familiar goofy grin on Eddie's face. Their hands met again through the bars, Eddie's warm palms grounding Violet's scattered emotions.

Eddie asked curiously, "How did you end up here?"

The answer came from John in the next cell. Waving his finger with a mildly warning tone, he said, "Careful with this girl, man. If you hurt her, she might kick you so hard you'll never have kids."

Eddie laughed at the comment, his grin widening. Reaching through the bars, he gently stroked Violet's hair, then pulled her closer, inhaling the scent of her hair. His lips still nestled there, he spoke teasingly, "What’s this about a cellmate situation? What did I miss now? This damned hospital can’t go a day without drama."

Violet responded with a laugh, collapsing onto the so-called "bed," an uncomfortable excuse for furniture. Eddie, meanwhile, sat on the floor of his cell, but his hand never left Violet's through the bars.

"They’ve evacuated the Michigan hospital here," Violet explained, detailing the situation. "New patients and staff have arrived. Temporarily, at least."

Eddie winked and muttered with a mischievous grin, "Here’s hoping I get a cute chick as a cellmate."

Violet swatted his hand playfully, then turned curiously to John. "We saw Eddie’s name there. We didn’t even check the one next to it. Got so caught up in my mess, we forgot."

John frowned slightly, puzzled. "Fred something. I don’t remember the last name."

Eddie nudged Violet's hand. "Your mess? What’s happened to you?"

This was the hardest part for Violet. Eddie was unaware of what Steve and the others had told her. He didn’t know that Max had woken up and reported him to the police. Violet hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and began to speak.

"Eddie, listen carefully to what I’m about to say. You know how I told you I knew you were innocent..." Violet’s voice wavered slightly. Eddie’s brown eyes looked at her with patience and curiosity. Finally, she admitted, "Max woke up."

Eddie’s eyes lit up with excitement. "Are you serious? That’s amazing news!"

Violet glanced at John for help, but he was nervously chewing his nails. Sighing, she turned back to Eddie.

The expression on his face shifted, sensing something was wrong. Violet closed her eyes and summoned her courage to reveal the truth she had been hiding.

"...And now I don’t know why she’s here, but she’s going to be staying in my room."

Those words made Eddie grip her hand tighter. His voice trembled, and his eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Violet... you can’t stay with her... I won’t let you..."

Violet averted her gaze from Eddie's misty eyes. But John’s muffled voice startled her. Pressing his hands and head against the bars, John muttered, "What do we even have left at this point?"

A gloomy silence filled around. Violet responded quietly, "We stole the file that proved what Dr. Arthur did, but they got it back. They’ve probably destroyed it by now."

Eddie let out a heavy sigh, adding, "The only person who could prove my innocence woke up, and now she’s Vecna’s puppet. I’ve got a one-way ticket to the electric chair."

John barked out a harsh laugh. "And anyone who could help us escape thinks we’re dead. We can’t make calls, and we can’t ask Brendon to because we’re being listened to."

In the midst of this dark atmosphere, an idea sparked in Violet’s mind. A smile crept across her lips. "If we can’t talk... we’ll write."

Eddie and John looked at each other, then at Violet. But just as the idea began to take shape, the sound of approaching footsteps made Violet motion for them to be silent. The newcomers were Brendon and Oliver. The sight of the prison-like cells seemed to horrify Oliver, who looked visibly shaken.

Violet thought mockingly, You think it’s bad? You should see WARD C, doctor.

Oliver introduced himself nervously, his voice trembling. ''Violet George, I’m your doctor, Oliver Owsen."

Oliver’s extended hand reached through the bars to shake Violet’s. However, his eyes were carefully examining Eddie from head to toe. Eddie, silent behind the bars, observed Oliver while Violet didn’t let go of Eddie’s hand.

Oliver, “I’m here to get you out of here.”

Violet, “I’ll only leave if my friends come with me.”

Oliver glanced first at Eddie, then at John. His expression revealed that he understood how difficult Violet’s demand was.

Oliver “I’m afraid your friends are not my patients. It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to do that.”

Violet shrugged, responding with a nonchalant tone, “Then I’m not going.”

A hint of embarrassment spread across Oliver’s face. He looked like someone trying to do his job but caught in the middle of a chaotic situation. Violet didn’t doubt Oliver’s sincerity; however, she knew he wouldn’t be able to see the bigger picture of what was happening within this system. She could explain everything to him right now, but the risk was too great. She decided to start her plan from a simpler angle.

Violet nodded toward Eddie. “You see that man standing there, right?”

Oliver nodded affirmatively.

Violet, ���You’ve heard about the murders in Hawkins, haven’t you? Well, he’s the one responsible for them.”

A noticeable fear flickered in Oliver’s eyes. Eddie, seated on his bed with his head in his hands, seemed oblivious to what Violet was saying.

Violet “Now, do you know who my roommate is?” whispered.

This time, Oliver shook his head no.

“It’s Max Mayfield, the girl he almost killed. Now think about it: Does this hospital really care about its rules? I think you need to transfer this patient immediately. Otherwise, Eddie Munson might finish what he started and kill Max. And wouldn’t that also put my life in danger? After all, I’m sharing a room with Max. And you’re my doctor. You’re responsible for me.”

The sound of Oliver swallowing filled the corridor. Behind them, John silently made a gesture of awe, as if to say, Wow. He hadn’t expected Violet to come up with such a plan.

Eddie, his face expressionless, stepped toward the bars. Even though Oliver was outside, he instinctively took a step back. Eddie began speaking in a mocking tone, “If I see that redhead again, tell her I’ll rip her head off this time. I’ve got one more sacrifice to offer the Devil.”

Oliver swallowed again. Then, turning to Brendon, he motioned with his head to unlock the doors. As Brendon unlocked Violet’s cell, he gave her a look of admiration mixed with astonishment.

Violet struggled to hold back her laughter. Madness had its charm sometimes. Whatever you did, no one questioned you. After all, you were insane.

When they emerged from the basement cells and reached the upper floors, Violet took a deep breath. Eddie approached her quietly from behind and whispered in her ear, “I’ll be waiting for you in the common room.”

Violet left the common room, smiling, to follow Oliver. She didn’t know much about this new doctor, but that didn’t matter—for now, all she needed was the pen she had to get from Oliver. When they entered his office, she slumped into a chair, crossing her arms over her stomach and one leg over the other. She planned to leave after answering the routine questions.

Oliver sat at his desk, reviewing a file. His brows were furrowed, as if he were puzzled. After glancing at Violet a few times, he finally asked, “Do you know what day it is today, Mrs George?”

“You can call me Violet,” she replied with a faint smile. “It’s Wednesday.”

Oliver nodded, smiling. “Alright, Violet. Do you know why you’re here?”

Violet tried not to roll her eyes at the routine question. She was here because the crimes pinned on Eddie and the creature Vecna chasing her had led to this point. Of course, she couldn’t explain everything, but she could have a bit of fun.

“The creature Vecna, who made sure all the crimes were pinned on Eddie, started chasing me. So, I was escaping from the hospital to get away from it. Oh, and at the same time, I was going to expose the aliens from the experiments that asshole Dr Arthur conducted on people to the entire world.”

The look of shock on Oliver’s face was almost comical. He glanced back at the file and scribbled something with his pen.

“Given your scores and professional background, I find it very surprising you’re saying such things,” he said in a serious tone. “I thought you might be here because of a misunderstanding. Are you serious?”

Violet answered with a laugh. “Of course I’m not serious.” The relief on Oliver’s face was fleeting.

Violet stifled her laughter as she continued. “I mean, I admit I exaggerated with the aliens. Zombies would’ve been more accurate.”

Oliver froze for a moment before slowly tucking his pen into the outer breast pocket of his doctor’s coat. “I think I’ve tired you enough for today... I have other patients to see,” he said, closing the file. His voice carried a hint of disappointment; his inexperience was obvious.

Violet stood up and was about to leave when a nurse entered the room. “Mr. Owsen, your next patient, Fred Kirk, is waiting at the door.”

Fred Kirk... That name sounded familiar to her. Violet’s mind worked quickly. She took a few steps closer to Oliver and suddenly asked, “Can I give you a hug? Thank you for listening to me.”

Oliver stared at her, unsure of what to say, and Violet hugged him tightly, swiftly snatching the pen with a quick movement of her hand. Then she left the room.

She returned to the common room at a brisk pace. John and Eddie were chatting on the couches. Violet quickly jumped between them. Eddie turned to her and asked curiously.

“Hey, what was the plan? How are we going to reach Steve?”

“If we can’t call him, we’ll write. We’ll send him a letter. Brendon can deliver it, right?” Violet said, determination shining in her eyes.

John nodded in agreement. “But how are we supposed to write? In case you haven’t noticed, even the forks and knives are plastic. You can’t find anything that could be used as a weapon. Not even a pen.”

Violet pulled the pen from her pocket and smiled triumphantly. Eddie looked at her in awe and asked, “Where did you find that?”

Shrugging, Violet replied with a sly expression, “I guess I had to suck up to my doctor a little.”

John raised the question, “What about paper?” 

Eddie laughed and said, “We can write on toilet paper.” Just then, John pulled out a napkin from his pocket and held it out. Violet and Eddie stared at him blankly.

“What? My nose runs. I carry tissues,” John said defensively.

Eddie squinted at him mischievously. “I hope it’s just for your nose,” he said.

Violet rolled her eyes. “Come on, guys, we need to figure out what to write.”

John suggested the simplest message, as if he’d come up with something groundbreaking, “We’re not dead, we’re alive, get us out of here.”

Eddie shook his head, lightly hitting John on the head. “Why don’t we include Arthur’s entire plan too, while we’re at it? Are you crazy? How did you ever work as a cop? What if they read the letter? If they catch us, it’ll be at least three hundred volts for us this time.”

Eddie took the pen and napkin and started writing something. Then he handed it over with a grin. Violet read it aloud curiously, “The Shire is burning, Mordor is burning. But a hobbit never gives up.”

John turned to Eddie with a serious expression. “Mine made more sense. What is this supposed to mean?”

Eddie just rolled his eyes. “You just give it to Brendon, and he’ll send it to Dustin Henderson. That kid’s a genius. He’ll know it’s from me.”

As John tucked the letter into his pocket, Violet’s attention shifted to the new patients in the common room. She hadn’t seen Max yet. Doctor Oliver was now speaking with his new patient. Violet whispered, “Why does the name Fred Kirk sound so familiar?”

John had no hesitation explaining. “Fred Kirk? You mean the Brooklyn Axeman?”

Violet turned to him in fear. “What?”

John shrugged. “It was one of the cases I worked on before they locked me up here. The guy’s a serial killer. He murders his victims with an ax. Last I heard, he was caught and institutionalized. Why do you ask? You probably saw it on the news. It was a big deal.”

Violet pointed to the blond man and asked, nearly trembling, “Please tell me that’s not him.”

John and Eddie both looked in the direction she indicated. John tilted his head and calmly said, “Alright... I won’t tell you.” 

Eddie sighed and added, “Just what we needed, a serial killer. Fantastic.”

Violet took a deep breath and voiced an even darker realization, “Eddie, I’m not sure but I think he’s going to be your cellmate.”

Violet entered the common room in the morning, and Eddie noticed her immediately. He quickly walked over to her and hugged her tightly. “Are you okay?” he asked, looking into her eyes with concern. Violet nodded in affirmation, then answered in a weary voice, “Are you okay?”

Eddie shrugged. “My roommate broke someone’s nose on the first day, so he’ll be stuck in a cell for a few days. So yeah, I was alone yesterday. What about you? Did you see Max?”

Violet shook her head. “No, I was alone too,” she said.

When Violet noticed John smoking a cigarette on the couch behind Eddie, she frowned. “Where did he even get that cigarette?” she asked. Eddie rolled his eyes and gave her a look that said, Don’t even ask.

“Brendon came by before you arrived,” Eddie said, changing the subject. “He sent the letter yesterday by the fastest mail service. It probably reached them last night.”

“What letter?” a voice asked suddenly, making them both turn in the same direction at the same time.

Hearing a shaky, hurt voice, they both froze for a moment. A red-haired girl with tear-filled eyes and trembling hands was looking at them, embarrassed but scared. Violet guessed she couldn’t be more than 18 or 19 years old. The shock on Eddie’s face was unmistakable. “Max?” Eddie said, his voice filled with uncertainty. Max immediately ran toward him, throwing her arms around him and sobbing uncontrollably.

Eddie stood still for a few seconds, then finally hugged her back. Violet watched them in astonishment. Eddie pulled away slightly, holding Max by her shoulders, and bent down so that their faces were level. “Is it really you?” he asked. Max nodded while wiping her tears.

“When I woke up here, I opened my eyes. I don’t know what’s going on. What are you doing here? What am I doing here? Are we... dead?” Max asked, her voice trembling. Eddie glanced at Violet; they were both thinking the same thing. Could Vecna have used Max to lure them here and then disappeared? Or was this some sort of trap? They had to tread carefully until they figured it out.

Max turned to Eddie and asked, “Why are they still keeping you here? Why am I here? If I’ve woken up, can’t we prove you’re innocent now?”

Violet shrugged but said nothing. If Max found out she had played a role in Eddie being locked up here, she might just have a heart attack on the spot, Violet thought to herself.

Deep down, Violet was sure Max was genuinely herself. Looking at her, she didn’t sense the dark, ominous presence she had felt when confronting Vecna. That intense fear she had once experienced wasn’t there when she looked into Max’s eyes now.

Max wasn’t done with her questions. “And what’s this letter about?”

Before Violet could respond, John cut in, gesturing toward Eddie and Violet with his cigarette.

“These two idiots—everyone thinks they’re dead. But as you can see, they’re right here, alive and kicking. See?” John said, nudging Eddie with his foot. Eddie lightly smacked John’s leg in return, grumbling irritably.

Max continued anxiously, “Did you send it to guys? I hope they don’t make the mistake of calling here. If they do, the people here will know you’ve been communicating with them.”

Eddie smiled faintly and shrugged. “I don’t think they’d do something that dumb. I mean, these guys saved the world. More than once.”

Just then, a nurse approached Violet. “Dr. Oliver Owsen is expecting you,” he said in a formal tone.

Violet sighed, standing up, and began walking toward the doctor seated at a nearby table. “Another day of pretending to be crazy,” she thought to herself. This charade, in a way, was starting to amuse her.

She had even managed to scare the doctor about Eddie. She now realized how much fun Eddie had been having with her in their therapy sessions before Eddie's innocence was exposed.The man was afraid of everything.

Here, people could do anything—spit on the floor, behave disgustingly, or even walk around naked—and no one cared. Because you were ‘crazy,’ and that made everything acceptable. Violet pulled a chair and sat across from the doctor, her eyes still on Eddie in the background.

Oliver coughed lightly to draw attention. Violet turned her gaze away from Eddie to him, then sank back into her chair, folding her arms across her chest. The seriousness on his face made it clear that this wasn’t going to be an ordinary conversation.

“Violet, I need to ask you something,” Oliver said in a low but determined voice.

Violet tilted her head back and took a deep breath. “Are you going to ask me what day it is today?” she asked in a slightly sarcastic tone.

“No,” Oliver replied, ignoring her reaction. “I want to ask you something about a patient.”

This unexpected response piqued Violet’s interest. She raised her head curiously and looked at Oliver’s face attentively. “Have you ever heard of a patient named Ginny Jones here? Or seen her?” he asked.

After a brief pause, Violet shook her head to indicate no. “Why are you asking?” she replied, somewhat cautiously.

“There’s a reason I came here. I’m not here by coincidence. I’m looking for someone,” Oliver said, his voice carrying a stronger emphasis.

Violet sighed, lifting her hands in a gesture of indifference, and yawned. “Everyone’s looking for someone, buddy. That’s life,” she replied, with little interest.

“Violet, I’m asking you to be yourself for a few seconds,” Oliver said impatiently. “It’s obvious that this isn’t you. I can see how intelligent you are. I’ll pretend to believe your crazy stories again, I promise. But right now, I need your help. I went to the corridor of Ward C that you mentioned yesterday. All the rooms had been cleared out. Someone had taken everything there in a hurry.”

At these words, Violet raised her eyebrows and began listening to Oliver more attentively. She was now certain that he was really here looking for someone. The concern in his voice made it clear how important that person was to him.

“I wish I could help you,” Violet said, with a slight hint of regret, “but I’ve never even heard of the person you’re talking about while working here.”

Oliver fell silent for a moment, rubbing his forehead with his hand. “Tell me about this Dr. Arthur,” he said finally. “And his experiments.”

Violet fell into deep thought at this point. She knew one of the biggest shortcomings here was belief. No one would believe you if you said you saw a ghost, had a murderer chasing you, or claimed that you weren’t actually insane. But if someone did believe you, it either meant they had also lost their mind or they truly knew something.

She was certain that Oliver wasn’t a madman. The fire of vengeance in his eyes showed that he was capable of truly doing something about it.

John turned to Eddie, his expression curious as he broke the silence. "What’s wrong, man?" he asked, his voice low.

Eddie tilted his head toward Oliver and Violet, his jaw tightening slightly as he watched the two of them deep in conversation. "Him," Eddie said, nodding toward Oliver. "His existence is enough."

John raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"

"There doesn’t need to be a reason. There’s just something... off about him," Eddie replied, a hint of irritation in his tone. "I can feel it."

John shrugged, his casual demeanor unbothered. "He’s just doing his job," he pointed out.

Eddie’s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward. "There’s something weird about him. I can sense it."

Before John could respond, a staff member entered the room. John quickly tossed his cigarette to the ground, stomping on it hastily, his hand fanning away the lingering smoke. 

Eddie stretched out on the couch, arms folded behind his head, while Max sat nearby, her gaze darting nervously around the room.

"You’ll get used to it in a few days, Max," Eddie said, a teasing grin spreading across his face.

Max rolled her eyes. "I’m not crazy, Eddie."

Eddie let out a sharp laugh. "But I am. The sooner you accept it, the easier it gets."

John nudged Eddie’s leg with his hand, an insistent poke that drew Eddie’s attention.

"What now?" Eddie snapped, feigning exasperation. "Can’t you leave me alone for two minutes? You’re exhausting."

The playful remark hung in the air as Eddie’s gaze wandered to the ceiling, his eyes tracing the outlines of the religious motifs painted above.

John cleared his throat. "Uh, Eddie?"

"Hmm?" Eddie muttered without looking at him.

"Those friends you always talk about—Steve and, uh, what’s-his-name..."

Eddie turned his head, his brow furrowing. "Yeah, what about them?"

"You said they weren’t dumb enough to call here," John said, his voice cautious.

Eddie sat up straight, his posture suddenly alert. 

His gaze followed John’s, locking onto the sight of Steve standing in the hallway, wearing a blue patient outfit, his curious eyes peering into the room. Beside him was Jonathan.

Rubbing his eyes as if to ensure he wasn’t dreaming, Eddie glanced at Max, who looked back at him with equal disbelief.

"Yeah," Eddie muttered, his voice dripping with irritation. "I was wrong. They’re even dumber than I thought."

Eddie stormed toward Steve, whose grin stretched so wide it showcased every one of his teeth. Steve nudged Jonathan with his elbow, who also broke into a smile upon seeing Eddie.

Their expressions faltered, though, as Eddie’s face grew darker the closer he got. Without hesitation, Eddie smacked each of them on the back of the head.

"What are you idiots doing here?" Eddie demanded, his tone sharp. "Steve, did you forget where the hairdresser’s is? And you, Jonathan? I thought you were the smart one!"

Steve raised a finger to his lips, motioning for Eddie to lower his voice. "You might want to yell a little louder," Steve quipped. "That mustached lady over there didn’t hear you."

Across the room, a woman seated alone at a table playing with domino tiles raised her hand. "I heard you, sweetheart," she called out.

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh despite himself, though the irritation lingered on Steve’s face.

Steve leaned in slightly, his voice more subdued. "Hopper got us in. We’re here to help you."

John, now chewing on a gum, glanced between Eddie and his friends, his expression unimpressed. "Great. Did  this Hopper guy also mention there’s no way out once you’re in here?"

Jonathan and Steve exchanged uneasy glances, but Eddie’s frustration boiled over. His teeth clenched as he grabbed both of them by the arms and dragged them to a corner.

"Vecna’s in Max, huh?" Eddie hissed. "That’s what you told Violet?"

Steve hesitated, his expression grim. "I don’t think so anymore," he admitted. "Actually, part of why we’re here is because of that. Vecna’s weak right now. Even if he picks a new victim, he doesn’t have the strength to take their life. So he’s waiting—for the weakest moment, the most miserable time."

"Dustin said the best place for that would be..." Jonathan started.

"An asylum," Steve finished for him.

Eddie raised his hand like a student seeking permission to speak. "Hold on a second. Are you telling me Vecna could possess anyone here?"

Steve nodded solemnly, confirming Eddie’s worst fear.

Steve’s voice carried a determined and calm confidence. "The more of us there are here, the safer we’ll be," he said. "We have to back each other up. They’re going to release Max today. She’s going to change the statement she gave about you. Once you’re out, we’ll get out too."

A shadow crossed Eddie’s face, his gaze trembling with worry. "What about Violet?" he asked, his voice slightly rising. "And John?"

Jonathan gently placed a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, his eyes carrying a soothing expression. "One thing at a time, Eddie" he said softly. "Let’s get you out first."

Eddie turned his head and gestured toward Max, who was sitting in the corner of the room. His gaze revealed a deep concern. "Don’t you think we should check if Vecna is inside her before we send her out of here?" he asked, his words hanging in the air like an echo.

Steve frowned, pausing for a moment as if in thought, then spoke as though he had figured it out. "Vecna hates heat," he said.

Jonathan nodded in agreement, his expression hinting at an answer to Eddie’s worry. "When he got into Will, he ran away from the fire in fear," he added. "We have a chance."

Steve’s gaze wandered around the room as he continued with a bit more hesitation. "But where are we going to find fire in here?"

A faint smile appeared on Eddie’s face. His eyes shifted to John, who was lighting a cigarette across the room. "I know," he said.

taglist: @arabellagreenleaf @cokepowder55 @nessa3nessa @25bohemianmoons @nicholaschavezslut69 @multyfangirl @t-folklore13

[ineedsleepsoleavemealone]

Chapter Summary: A shared secret, the start of a reputation, the beginning of the road to ruin.

Summary: When May and Peter fall into debt after Ben's death, Peter knows he has to do something. His intrusive thoughts and determination to help his aunt leads him to become Relic, one of Queens' street racing's biggest mysteries. He knows Ben would be disappointed in him, but he can't leave May to drown in the debt. Though his guilt eats at him and his friends and family are concerned for him, he has to keep going. Right?

my fast and furious au that I've been yammering about for the past month :)

Chapter Summary: Peter's life is fucked at the moment. The only thing he has is his love of cars and his aunt May. When he finds out a part time job won't be enough to keep the debt away, his intrusive thoughts start to creep a little closer.

[milsae]

oc (it's she)

[mpw-04]

Making a comeback 💥 tried a trend that’s been floating around, oddly proud of the results.

/Feedback is appreciated/

[ak319]

Lovesick Rich Gf x Fem gp reader🛍️💋

(Headcanon)

(Warnings: Toxic love, obsessed, implied sexual content, possessive themes, blackmailing,)

Roxi Moores, your girlfriend is the daughter of Altan Moores, owner of the Mooranda hotel chain which is their family-owned business. That's right, their family is half Turkish and half English. Not to forget she is an international model. You, however, were a simple college student who got a job at one of the Hotel branches as a server.

Roxi was one of those people who didn't pay much attention to the people catering to her as she was always used to being pampered. But when you came to take her order dressed in that white dress shirt, with a notepad in your hands, and greeted her and her girlfriends in that cushioned urbane voice, she nearly folded right there. That night is what Roxy now celebrates as your guys' "Love at first sight anniversary" even though it was only one-sided and your ass was so aloof at that time of serving her. You didn't even know until she left that she was the owner's DAUGHTER!

Anyway, Roxi had set her eyes on you and you are damn wrong if you think she doesn't get what she wants. It's not like she lacks anything. She has charisma, looks, and money, though she could tell you were not a person to fall for someone's wealth so she had to work hard. And really hard to get such an attractive, nice woman like you at her feet.

Her alluring blue eyes made you weak in the knees, not to forget her honeyed voice and her luscious caramel brown hair. You began to see her more at the dining and eventually, you responded to her flirting too sometimes but there was this nagging voice at the back of your head reminding you of your status and how it might be so wrong and disastrous to date Altan's only daughter. But she convinced you and convinced you well ♡ by easily luring you into her suite. God, you couldn't believe how you even scored that night just by getting a job there.

Your apprehension about her father's opinion was cleared when she out of the blue once brought him for not more than 5 minutes due to his busy schedule and introduced you. To this day you still wonder how you kept your composure when meeting a billionaire as his daughter's GF and as a lowly SERVER and that too in a WEEK of DATING?! Well to be fair at that point you thought that you were still in a situation-ship but Roxi made no mistake of reminding you that you were her girlfriend.

Then, your relationship with her began and you had no idea how your life would change when looking back on it now.

She was cute, smart, and elegant. You absolutely adore how she is attentive towards you. She listened to your rants about your college dramas and would be like a strict parent if you missed one day of your gym. Yes, she would be MAD if you didn't work out. She is obsessed with your abs and will even put stickers on them or would doodle with her glitter Sharpies giggling after riding you dry while you are laying there still trying to find your ass in the milky way. Not that you minded but now you didn't get to skip the workout and would have to send her a snap as soon as you step into the gym. She is the one who sits on your back like a princess as you do pushups or makes you do them on top of her for practice as she pays you with kisses on each one you do.

She would give you a private catwalk trying to distract you from studying or your game time by trying on the sensual nighties she could get her hands on. Passwords are non-existent between you both and don't you dare remove her picture as your wallpaper. You can only change it to a different picture. She does the same with her phone.

As this was your first serious relationship, you were indulging in the way she made it so magical for you but you were also overwhelmed. Because having a brand customize a couple perfume sets and bracelets only for you both seemed too much to you. Whenever you put forward your complaint of her spending her money on you as it literally made you feel spineless, she would throw tantrums and cry and let it be known that her tantrums are not easy to control. Thank God, you chose to discuss this problem at her house and not yours because your family would have their wits blown away if they witnessed this side of hers instead of the sweet humble chic girlfriend one.

Roxi, your number one supporter will be at your every (fave sport) match at your college, cheering you but she always looked so prim and proper while doing it. You never understood how she did it. When it comes to your attention and the competition, Roxi is gravely calm and it can be quite chilling for you as she is the clingy type. But she is indeed a secure and confident person and she trusts you too. The other girls don't even stand a chance against her so why give a fuck?. But little do you know that if she catches you initiating something ever, your life is going to get W-R-E-C-K-E-D. Thank God you’re loyal—one of the many things she loves about you. So don't ever forget that she is the only girl in your life. The scratches on your back remind you daily anyway. She never lets them heal.

How does she even-aren't her nails oval?! Nevermind.

It was however the other way around. You were the possessive one and she relished in the fact that you didn't like her wearing too revealing clothes not because you were insecure, you just didn't trust other people and the way they might think of her in their minds. Roxi didn't mind one bit as she wanted to be dolled up only for you.

The moment when she first found out you were pursuing a business-related degree, she had already formulated and decided every step of your future and you didn't even know. She was going to make you into a perfect daughter-in-law for her parents, especially her father. She was tired of being spoiled by her dad and wanted the role to be passed on to you now. She had already tested you multiple times and seeing how you gave 0 shits about her money made her more determined every time.

So as soon as you graduated she tried to convince your stubborn hardworking ass to first stop with this part-time job of a server for God's sake but you were persistent and did it alongside a corporate one but not in her dad's company. This enraged her further to her core. She couldn't stand the thought of you licking someone's shoes just to get a few bucks! In her mind, the server job was way better as at least it was her dad paying you and not some other bastard. She really remained patient with you whether it was when you took her on dates or when you gifted her something as she just loathed the fact that it was bought from the extra money that you were earning through your other job. After having enough of this bullshit, one day she just stormed into your office and grasped the attention from every corner. Some recognized her, and some were plain curious to see such a beautiful woman with such a furious look. She barged into your boss's office and demanded them to fire you. You ultimately calmed her down and controlling your own anger, escorted her out.

That was the day you cut it off with her...at least you thought you did. Well, you got fired anyway since your boss found out whose daughter she was and didn't want any trouble. You got texts from her, ranging from apologies to straight-up threats of you not ever getting a job anywhere in the world. At this rate, you had resigned from your serving job because of her and were depressed. Your family instead of supporting you took her side as she had hypnotized them with her sweet and caring nature. They wanted you to just accept the job at Mooranda International. And you did that eventually when her father came to your doorstep and took you to his company and hired you as his executive assistant which was such a big role for you.

You started your job and honestly, it felt robotic. Your soul wasn't in it and how can you forget the way it was handed to you, in a literal gold platter but make it a platter full of thorns and spikes that you just had to accept no matter what.

As far as Roxi is concerned, she visited you in the office as if nothing had changed between you two and soon you realized that you were trapped in this situation both by her and her father and could only act as if nothing had occurred. She re-entered your life and things slowly returned back to normal, and if you consider getting a mansion, luxurious cars and access to a private jet normal, then yes. Everything is normal.

You both live together now and Roxi finally got what she wanted. Making you spoil her every day by demanding things left and right. She fantasized about waking up every day and seeing you get ready to go work with her father and it was finally true!. Every morning she would make sure the maids got breakfast perfectly cooked to your liking and the favourite part of hers was to see you off with a kiss. After that either she went for shoots or just spoiled herself to look pretty for you when you came back.

Her father on the other hand made sure to be ten times harder on you than other employees to make sure you are ready to one day take his position and be a good wife to his lovely daughter. Despite his reservation of having his daughter date a server from his own hotel, he had taken a liking to you. He still remembered her tears when you both temporarily broke up and he sure as hell is not letting his baby cry again over your ass. After all, his dearest daughter always gets what she desires.

Speaking of desires, Roxy is insatiable when it comes to you. Now more than ever since you look so fucking sexy wearing suits and dress shirts. The way you drive the latest Bugatti La Voiture Noire with those hands of yours, one of which always has to be on her thigh or she's jumping out. She puts on the playlists she makes for you. It is so hot to see you be so serious and focused on driving and even working when she is all over you. Knowing that at the end of the day, you will fuck her anyway.

She never fails to blush when you serve her sometimes as it reminds her of the first time she met you. Her shyness and that dreamy look in her eyes make you serve her more often than ever that now it has become a habit at dinner time.

Don't for a second dare to think that you can wear white and not have her clinging to you to put a lipstick stain on various parts of your shirt. Seeing you embarrassed makes her giddy but she still doesn't let you clean them and instead makes you wear a coat.

Roxi really wants to sometimes make those adorable Tiktoks of relationship aesthetic but she knows you are not a fan of showing off and she kind of agrees with this notion as she doesn't want anyone's evil eye to befell upon your relationship. So instead she just makes such videos for her private account and posts some of yours in which either your back is facing her from the balcony as you're enjoying your (tea/coffee) or you're holding a bouquet for her, your face covered by the flowers. Such media in which the relationship is not that OTT. She loses herself in the attention you get online when people are curious about you, thirsting over you or whether it's her own friends congratulating her on catching such a fine specimen as you. The fact that nobody can steal you away from her no matter how much they try, always makes her day.

Now, her plan is to be your wife. She is just waiting for the day you pop the question. But she knows you are going to make it special so she can wait. She will wait. But it is so unfair that she has to. She has never waited for anything in her life and now, for the thing she wants the most, she has to. She could propose to you but she doesn't want it that way! She wants you on your knees for her. She is your everything, isn't she? And it's not like she doesn't have other plans on standby if you show no signs of wifing her up...

She had a previously failed engagement with a gold digger douchebag that her father chose for her and it was vile. She is not going to be treated like that ever again and you have proved yourself to be worthy of her and treated her better than her ex-fiance whom you hated too just by hearing about him treating your princess like shit. So she knows you love her beyond words at this point.

A snippet🤍

"Why didn't you respond to my texts?! You knew we had a golf date planned!". Your ears were not prepared for that shriek after the hectic day you had.

"Baby-I said sorry and can you-"

"NO! You are not going to work tomorrow and we are spending all day together. You hear me?! Don't you dare ignore my texts again!" She dug her nails on your shoulders.

She was currently on your lap in the tight golf outfit she wore specifically for you. How did she even think you would take her out in the skirt she’s wearing? She is indeed playing right now. But she couldn't stop teasing you with the way she moved on your lap and you knew she was doing it to make you more pissed.

"That's it." You carried her over your shoulder and onto the bed and Roxi couldn't be more happier. Good thing that she had already thrown away the condom packet.

[myangxlics]

Yandere Jock x reader x Yandere Cheerleader

Warnings: Yandere themes, gaslighting

Ethan Moore and Sonya Ross are the picture perfect couple. They’re the couple everybody is jealous of or hates, yet the two felt like something was missing.

The moment the new transfer student entered the classroom, Sonya knew that you were the missing piece to her and Ethan. She immediately invites you to sit next to her, introducing herself and complimenting you. Once class starts, she sneaks a picture of you and sends it to Ethan. Ethan immediately fell in love too. You were so cute and everything about you was perfect.

Once the bell rings, Sonya immediately grabs your arm. “Oh hon, you should sit with me at lunch!” She says, you’re confused expression going completely unnoticed. You attempt to say no but Sonya is already tugging you with her.

Tbh both are incredibly delusional

Like if you reject them, they just think you’re playing hard to get

They most likely guilt trip you into dating them

They also make you sit between them at their lunch table. Sonya always tries to gossip with you while Ethan attempts to teach you about football

If you miss any of their practices or games, they get real upset and guilt trip you

Ethan loves, loves, LOVES seeing you in his varsity jacket. Since it has his name on it, it shows everyone that you’re taken

Sonya loves to take you shopping. Spoiling you is her hobby

[sparkrls]

girl uncle

MASTERLIST

Summary: in which Harry becomes an uncle and has a bad case of baby fever

Author’s Note: congratulations to Gemma, i’m so happy for her and the entire Styles family. if this sucks, it's because babies scare me and i tried to write a fic about baby fever... not my smartest move

Word Count: 1k

···

“Baby? You okay?” Y/N murmured, brushing the hair out of Harry’s face. His lower lip trembling as he stared at the rose-flushed baby.

Harry shook his head, the first tear trailing down his cheek. Y/N could never stand to see him weep. It made something inside of her shatter as he lost his composure.

Y/N wrapped her arm around his shoulder, pulling him in close. He leaned his head against her shoulder, tears trailing down his face and onto her shirt. His eyes never left the baby.

Gemma laid fast asleep in the bed behind them. In a little while, the nurse would come in to check in on the baby and Gemma. But for now, Harry and Y/N were left with a sleeping Gemma and a baby to gaze at.

Harry had been stressed out of his mind when Michal called to tell them Gemma’s water had broken and they were headed to the hospital. He had fussed over every detail, and Y/N had been the one to grab the car keys and usher him out of the house. She knew he wasn’t in any mental state to be driving.

The time in the waiting room had been spent by Y/N helping Michal with all the paperwork and Harry pacing in circles. She’d gotten him a tea and ordered him to sit down. As he sipped on his tea, his face still in an anxious frown, she’d pressed a notebook and pen in his hands. Y/N had cupped his face in her hands and instructed, “Everything on your mind, write it down. All the anxious overthinking- lay it down on the page.”

Harry had done so, filling a worrying amount of pages with all that was on his mind. She had skimmed it and found he kept repeating certain thoughts, a clear sign he was just in a spiral of overthinking.

Y/N sat down next to him and simply hugged him until the tension in his muscles dissipated and he relaxed- not completely, but enough to soothe her worries.

When they’d finally been let into the room to see an exhausted Gemma, grinning Michal and a fussy baby, Harry had been handed the baby to hold. He rocked her lightly in his arms, smiling down at her.

“You’re a girl uncle,” Y/N had said teasingly. Harry grinned nonetheless.

That had led them to this, a day after the currently unnamed baby was born. The sun had long set on the horizon, and dark flooded the streets with lamplights turned on.

“We’re adults now,” Harry whispered lowly, as to not rouse the sleeping figures in the room. He sniffled. “I can still remember being kids and climbing trees. How Gemma cleaned up my knee when I scraped it learning to ride a bike. And look at her now.”

A warmth spread in Y/N’s chest, somewhere between happiness and an indescribable satisfaction at knowing they’d made it this far. And a melancholic feeling thinking about how they used to worry about whether their parents would let them go out to the park with their friends or not. Now, they would soon become the parents themselves.

Harry sighed, and she wiped his tears away from his cheeks. Y/N placed a tender kiss on his forehead and said, “You’re an uncle now.”

Looking up at her as if she’d been the one to freckle the sky with stars, Harry said, “Uncle Harry. Has a ring to it, doesn’t it?”

A soft chuckle escaped Y/N’s lips. “Definitely.”

“Dad would sound even better,” Harry whispered, pressing himself close to her and nuzzling his nose against her neck. “Don’t you agree?”

Eyebrows raised in light surprise, Y/N asked, “You want to…?”

Harry nodded. “Wouldn’t it be nice?” He whispered, a small smile tugging at his lips. He had that soft look in his eye he always got whenever he talked about their future. “Maybe a ring on your finger before… and then a baby in your belly.”

“You’ve got baby fever,” Y/N groaned quietly, turning her head away from him. Her gaze landed on the baby again, wrapped in a light pink blanket. For a moment, she imagined that being her baby. And a rush of affection swelled in her chest, a pinch of fear tingling on her fingertips.

Fuck, maybe she had baby fever as well.

They certainly did look adorable, faces all scrunched up, skin a rosy pink and fingers all chubby.

“Is that a no?” Harry prompted quietly.

Y/N sighed as if she were exhausted by him. They both knew her every word was laced with affection, “How’d you go from crying ‘cause your sister’s a mom now to begging for a baby?”

“Marriage and a baby,” Harry said, matter-of-factly. “Get your facts straight.”

Holding back a laugh, Y/N said, “Begging for marriage and a baby.” She took one good look at the man beside her, with brown curls and green eyes that looked almost a forest green in this light. “I never could say no to you.”

“That’s a yes?” Harry asked hopefully, leaning in close.

Y/N rolled her eyes affectionately. "It means be patient. We'll see how things go." She gave him a playful glare. "But we are having a wedding before a baby. Got it, Styles?"

"Got it, baby,” Harry confirmed with a grin. He knew he was going to get what he wanted. Maybe more in the future, he would spend an obscene amount of money on a Tiffany engagement ring and a Vivienne Westwood wedding dress. But for now, those plans were stowed away in Harry’s mind. They would come to fruition eventually. It was just a matter of time.

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

Astera, lounging in an armchair with a book abandoned in her lap: If I had a title that didn't directly tie me to my home court or my brother, what would it be?

Cassian, immediately: Shadowfucker

Azriel, after a few moments of contemplation: Lady of Nightmares

Cassian: That one's good. She's terrifying.

Astera, cracking an eye open to glance at Cassian: I'm not that bad, Cass

Cassian, side eyeing her: . . . Riiiiiiiighhhht

Rhysand, smirking:

Astera, with a sigh: Rhys, I swear to gods. . . If you say 'the High Lord's whore'

Rhysand: I didn't. . . Say anything. But you did, darling

Astera, regretting asking the question: Yeah, I won't be the High Lord's whore tonight

Rhysand, gaping at her: Now that's not fair

Azriel, raising an eyebrow at her: Who will you be?

Astera, casually: Shadowfucker, probably. . .

Cassian: Can. . . Can I?

Astera: Maybe

Your honor, they're so silly. I love them.

[steviewashere]

Single Parent Eddie Munson who goes to a hair salon with his daughter. His daughter is thirteen and experimenting with her style for the first time and got permission to use Manic Panic in her hair. On one condition: she goes to an actual salon to get it done because Eddie does not trust her or himself to do it correctly.

Steve Harrington owns the local hair salon, just a couple blocks away from Eddie's apartment. He specializes in coloring and haircuts. He recognizes the man who enters his salon with his kiddo—Eddie Munson, three time senior, small town rocker and mechanic, who had a kid only a couple years after finally graduating. He thinks it's cute, though, what his clients want.

Eddie's daughter wants her whole head dyed red, bright cherry red. And, Eddie who doesn't want to completely dye his hair, worried about ruining the curls—he just wants a streak in his bangs to match his girlie.

Cue them becoming regular clients, trying out all the new colors they can get their hands on, Eddie with his one streak. And Steve with a heart about to explode out of his chest with adoration and...love for Eddie. It's unethical, probably, to fall in love with his client. But he won't say anything when Eddie's daughter invites him over for dinner because, "My dad won't shut up about you! Which is so annoying of him, but he hasn't been this excited about somebody in a loooonggg time. And, y'know, you're cool in my book."

And sure, when Steve and Eddie start a tentative relationship that eventually blossoms to them moved in and married—Eddie's girl takes full advantage of Steve's skills. She gets her hair done in their bathroom, Eddie on the toilet chatting away, and Steve the most content he's ever been.

Concept :) I don't know if I have the time and whatnot to write this, but if it inspires you, I'd love to read what you write.

[mmogurl]

In The Shadow of Dragons Chapter 1: Requited Passions

18+ | 7.2k | Daemon Targaryen X Female OC | possessive, protective, objectifying, simping, raunchy Daemon | Uncle / niece incest, Smut, Dragons, Political Intrigue, Plotting, Murder, lots of old timey concepts that don't make a lot of sense today, but are still kind of hot/fun.

The second born daughter of King Viserys Targaryen, Ryna, is nine and ten years old and still unwed. Despite being surrounded by suitors, she has yet to find a man who captures her interest, and bristles at the pressure to select a husband. But a chance encounter with her enigmatic uncle, Daemon, promises to disrupt all her assumptions and to set her on a path she could never have anticipated. (Loosely set in episode 6, but Laena has already died a year prior)

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5 | CH 6 | CH 7 | CH 8 | CH 9 Also on AO3

The Great Hall was bristling with celebration held in honor of Viserys’ latest grandson, Joffrey Velaryon. The massive chamber was alight with dancing shadows, decorated grandiosely with Targaryen tapestries hung where all could witness to demonstrate wealth and power. Long tables filled with the most toothsome of fine delicacies lined both sides of the throne room. Perhaps Father was trying to distract the noble assembly with pomp, away from the very obvious fact that Rhaenyra’s children were all bastards.

Numerous guests filed in with their entourages in tow, announced by the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Criston Cole. Ryna grimaced at who he declared next.

“House Lannister with their lord, Jason Lannister, Lord Paramount of the West, and Master of Casterly Rock,” Cole’s voice was stout enough, but had nowhere near the authority his predecessor, Lord Harrold Westerling had in his day.

The Lannister strode at the head of his retinue, like a preening peacock adorned in so much crimson and gold that one might think he were royalty and not the hosting family.

Ryna sat sandwiched between her good-brother Laenor Velaryon and Lyonel Strong, a position that made her feel most irritable as she was not even allowed the courtesy of being placed next to her own kin. The Hand was pleasant enough, albeit mostly a stranger, but she had never grown close to Laenor given how much time he spent preoccupied with affairs outside of his marriage.

As always her father, Viserys, sat proudly next to Rhaenyra, his named heir and, one might wonder at times, favored daughter, despite how much he protested to the contrary.

When the Lannister party drew close to the high table, Lord Jason bowed before them with a flourish and as his party withdrew, he climbed the steps and approached the King.

“Congratulations, Your Grace,” he fawned in the manner only a Lannister could muster, a tone both disrespectful and servile at the same time. “Healthy babes are a worthy cause for celebration. Where is the strapping lad? I had hoped to pay my respects.”

Rhaenyra piped up this time, looking exhausted and not fully recovered from child bearing even though it had been days since Joffrey’s birth. Ryna supposed the wee babe had been keeping her awake more often than not.

“Prince Joffrey is resting. He would not tolerate staying up any longer. You know how babes are, always sleeping,” she replied, playing into Jason’s feigned deference.

It was then that the Lannister shot a glance down the table at Ryna. She tried to smile just politely enough so as not to encourage more attentions from the man, but it was without success.

“Your Grace…” he started off in that same falsely sycophantic tenor. “Has the Princess given any more thought to the courtship I proposed?”

Father looked down the table at her, leaning forward slightly so that he might see the expression on her face. Ryna’s eyes were pleading ‘No’ while trying to remain civil in the lord’s presence. Viserys’ features hardened with annoyance and he rested back into his chair.

“The Princess should be happy to consider your attentions. After all she is but ten and nine summers and still not wed,” his voice was stony and strict, markedly cross with her for shirking her duties even longer than Rhaenyra had.

Jason Lannister ruffled his feathers as he voiced appreciation to her father and stepped down the length of the table until he came to stand before her. Ryna had to choke back a smirk when the thought occurred to her that the Lannister’s sigil should be a primping cock instead of a lion, for Jason had more in common with a fowl than the fearsome and proud predator.

“Princess, I trust you will save me a dance?” he squawked and it took all she had to keep from rolling her eyes.

“I shall try, Lord Jason,” she answered with a prim smile through grit teeth. “But, I have not been feeling well. It might be something I ate.”

Father shot her an irate look and Ryna had no doubt that if they had been seated next to each other, that she would have felt his palpable frustration.

“The Princess is in good health,” Viserys said, with a snide smile. “Expect her company once the revelry starts.”

With a pompous smirk, Jason Lannister excused himself and made his way down the steps and back to the banquet. Ryna heaved a sigh, finding it difficult to hide her true feelings on this subject, despite years of learning to comport herself in the presence of refined company.

Viserys was still glaring at her, and she reckoned he might be wrathful enough to cause a row amongst guests and their kin alike.

“Ryna, draw near,” he called out and she rose from her seat and came to where he sat.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the birth of my grandchild, but unofficially, I had hoped you’d make use of the congregation of eligible lords and find a husband once and for all. Enough of this procrastination. Find a man worthy or I shall make the choice for you.” His voice was low so that the company in attendance of the great feast could not hear them.

“You would wed me to a Lannister?” she practically spat. “Just to fill the coffers with his dowry?!”

“Watch your tone with me, girl. You have heard me and I will not suffer your insolence any longer. Leave me so I might enjoy the festivities.” Viserys turned his head back to the next guests approaching the King’s table. He was done with her, his decision final.

Ryna could not help but to stomp swiftly away with a childish petulance that did not become a lady. Leaving her family behind, she slipped into the shadows of the great pillars that lined the throne room and made her way down a short corridor until she was outside in the crisp night air.

She let out a troubled sigh, wishing now that she had brought a goblet of wine with her. Ryna walked to the edge of the stone parapet and looked down at the splendor of King’s Landing in fall of the leaf. The color marking the trees was apparent even at nightfall and the sea was glittering in the moonlight just past the city’s edge. The sight made her feel both reverence and panic in equal measure, with a mounting desire to climb atop her dragon and take flight away.

Why should a princess of Valyrian blood be constrained to laws of man when she had the power to tame a dragon? She should be free to do as she longed to - to wed whom she desired, and not be forced to play along to such formal vulgarities, duty or not.

Ryna was so deep in thought that the nearby sound of a clearing throat startled her back to awareness. She turned sharply and could just barely make out the figure of a man leaning against the massive stone bricks of the castle wall behind her. Then her eyes caught the blinding billow of moonlit tresses and she knew it must be her uncle, Daemon, for no other Targaryen males yet had his height.

Daemon had returned from exile a year ago to attend to the funeral of his wife, Laena Velaryon, who had died in childbirth. Although to be more technically accurate, her dragon Vhagar had incinerated her once the baby would not come out. The end result was the same; Daemon widowed once again.

She had been closer with her uncle in the past, back before Rhaenyra’s wedding to Laenor, but her uncle had made himself scarce as of late. He spent much of his time away from King’s Landing, presumably finishing up his business in Pentos or simply behaving restlessly as Daemon was wont to do. Often she had observed his comings and goings from a distance by the sight and screech of Caraxes in the sky outside her window.

Daemon stepped forth from the shadows and approached her, yet halted at a pace’s length, his eyes roving up and down her form in keen appraisal.

He leaned in closely, his eyes of violet hooded as he whispered in a velvety, ardent tone, “My you’ve grown, niece.” His closeness and the heat of his gaze caused her cheeks to flush, and she could not help but feel a flutter in her chest.

For a moment, Ryna just stood there incredulously, unable to think of how to respond. He had never shown any interest in her before, no matter how much she had desired it. Daemon had only ever had eyes for Rhaenyra it seemed, and Ryna had always remained a child in his eyes. She had honestly forgotten those long lost unrequited desires until his simple greeting brought them all rushing back like a wave breaking hard as the tide comes in.

“Uncle,” she acknowledged him, yet scarce a word could she find in answer to his bold suggestion.

“Such beauty should never be sullied with a frown,” he continued, his demeanor charming without effort as he brushed a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “Tell Uncle what is troubling you.”

His inquiry proved to be somewhat of a balm to her tensions, providing a welcome transition into a topic she could put words to.

“Father has given me ultimatum to choose a husband lest he choose one for me,” she pouted, her lips pursing and her eyes sullen.

“Surely it cannot be so grim, sweetling,” he reassured her smoothly and she now saw he was holding a silver chalice adorned with the the three-headed dragon, likely filled with wine. “I imagine you’d have your pick of many fine and wealthy lords.”

“I’m afraid the selection is quite lacking,” Ryna scoffed gently, feeling a fondness stir as she recalled the old pet name he’d given her in many years past. It had been some time since she had heard him utter the word, but the fact that it sounded so well when spoken by him did not escape her notice.

Daemon quickly turned her around by the shoulder, then with a firm yet gentle hand placed against the small of her back, he led her towards the balustrade. His hand remained steadfast even as they halted, and Ryna shivered involuntarily at the feel of his fingers tracing the fabric of her gown with a tender and possessive touch.

“Let me guess,” he relished with sardonic glee. “Some old and fat oaf of a lord… No doubt a widower with a dozen children?”

“That and much worse,” she scowled thinking of all of the potential suitors that had approached her father for her hand. “A Lannister so full of himself that is makes my skin crawl to think of his paws upon me.”

An easy laugh escaped Daemon’s mouth and she thought with a wry smile that many must share her disgust for the lions.

“Ah, Lannisters. What a bunch of cunts,” he chuckled condescendingly, stealing a wanton glance down her bodice. “And the rest? Are there none suitable, niece?”

Ryna pondered the question, but could not think of a single man that had caught her attention. Except for Daemon of course, but that had never been a real option, especially after his transgressions with Rhaenyra some years back. Father had tried to keep it secret, but she’d crept into the throne room upon hearing his furious yelling and had heard the entire ordeal take place between the brothers.

Even still, she could not imagine marrying anyone of plain blood. In fact, it repulsed her to think that Father would ever marry a Hightower without an ounce of Valyrian heritage. And even though her brothers were technically half Targaryen, they were both young, and while Aemond seemed sweet, Aegon was a reprehensible human being.

The answer it seemed was simple after all. “No,” she replied curtly with a rueful sigh. “There are none who please me… But, I fear Father will not be thwarted this time. He will not permit me to celebrate my twentieth nameday without a husband.”

She glanced over at her uncle and took in the almost ethereal way his pale skin glowed in the moonlight. He hadn’t changed at all, like an ageless god from the legends she’d so loved as a girl. His hair swayed against his shoulder in the slight breeze as he took a sip from his cup.

“Ah yes, sweetling, It would seem your father has you in quite the bind,” he said matching her somber tone. “No doubt he believes that time is running short. That you must fulfill your duty to the family and start producing heirs before you get much older.”

“He has been patient with me. Rhaenyra shirked her duty at first, but still acquiesced to marry at seven and ten years, but I… Well, they will be calling me an old maid soon.” She hung her head down, feeling ashamed for the way she’d behaved towards her father. He had meant well for her after all, and Ryna had done nothing but rebuke him as reward for years of lax freedom.

Daemon removed his hand from her back, sliding it gently up her arm until it came to rest below her chin. He tipped her jaw up to meet his face and she was met with a kind smile.

“Do not ever lower your head, sweetling. You are a dragon,” he said warmly, letting go so that he could sit against the stone wall beneath the balustrade. “Now, perhaps we can solve this little problem.. What would make a suitor worthy of your hand in marriage?”

She felt a hot wave of embarrassment rise within her, for she knew well the answer that rested upon her tongue, yet dared not speak the words aloud. Surely, Father would never let her have him even if she begged on her knees. Even so, Ryna didn’t see the point in lying completely. She would be honest about the qualities she sought in a partner, even if not being direct about the person whom she had in mind.

“It is important to me that my offspring remain pure. I do not wish to mix with those who are laden to the ground. That doesn’t leave me with many options,” she spoke softly, her head tilting up towards her uncle as she finished.

There was an intrigued sparkle in Daemon’s eyes as he comprehended her words and a smile wove its way across his face. “A dragon’s clutch should remain undiluted and pure, I agree. The blood of Old Valyria is powerful and should be preserved.” He hummed in approval as he wrapped his free hand around her waist and pulled her a touch closer. She gasped softly, unaccustomed to being so close to him.

“Tell me, little dragon. Have you never considered your uncle as a match before?” Daemon’s words cut like his sword, Dark Sister, through the cool night air.

Ryna’s lips parted as if to speak, unsure of how to proceed. He had taken the bait she’d unintentionally laid out and given he suggested it himself, the prince must be partial to the idea. But, Daemon was an enigma and she found it difficult to gage his intentions at all times.

“I have,” she said concisely. “It is the only obvious choice when it comes to such aims, but… It is… complicated.”

She saw his eyes flare, brow rising in challenge as he gripped more tightly around her waist. He placed his chalice down on the stone and drew her even closer to him. His knee wedged between her skirts to rest between her legs and her breast was now pressing indecently against his chest. It was not a position she was familiar to enduring. Ryna knew she should pull away, but Daemon had lulled her into compliance like a Dragonkeeper.

“Oh? And why is it so complicated, sweetling?” he asked with a smug grin and mock concern as he looked down at her.

Her uncle’s words snapped her out of it. How could he feign ignorance to the current situation?

“After your,” she began but found her mouth grow exceptionally dry after only two words. She turned her head to the side and brought her hand to her lips, clearing her throat before she continued. “After your exploits with Rhaenyra, Uncle… I doubt Father would consider letting us wed.”

Daemon’s gaze darkened with the mention of Rhaenyra. “Ah yes, that little indiscretion.” He said with an air of indifference that turned into an irritated smirk. “What do you know of it?”

“I overheard the two of you in the Great Hall that day. Father’s booming voice drew me in and then I stayed once I saw you lying on the floor with guards on either side. I was worried for you, but then I heard Father’s words. That you had taken Rhaenyra’s purity in some brothel… And you did not deny it.” The memory was not a fond one for Ryna. She could remember the inebriated state he’d been in as he asked her father for Rhaenyra’s hand in marriage as a result of their transgression.

“No, I did not deny it. And I did not confirm it either,” his voice was harder than usual, sterner as though upset by her knowledge of what transpired that day. “In all truth, I didn’t do much. I merely took her to a decent establishment to show her the reality of life outside the castle.”

“If you did not sully her virture, then why would you not refute such slanderous claims made against you, Uncle? Why accept exile for it… Again?” she asked furrowing her eyebrows, her hands with a mind of their own coming to rest on his shoulders.

He chuffed like a dragon, the only aspect missing was perhaps smoke escaping from his nostrils. “Why would I deny it? What would be the point?” his words were gruff. “What could I have said to convince your father that Rhaenyra was still untouched? Was I supposed to prostrate myself before him as a loyal dog to prove it?”

“You were already at his feet. Why not tell him the truth? Unless you hoped only to make him believe you besmirched her honor, just so you might wed her and recover your claim to the throne,” there was a certain amount of hurt in her voice as well as misgiving.

Ryna had never spoken to her uncle in this manner, or anyone so far her elder for that matter. But, part of her felt scorned, wronged for how much stock he had placed in Rhaenyra instead of her. She had to know what his true motivations had been and what he was capable of carrying out in order to get what he desired.

“You are treading on thin ice, little girl,” he voiced dangerously as his grip on her hips tightened. “How dare you make me out to be some incorrigible fiend. If anyone has been wronged in this whole… ordeal it has been me.”

His knee shifted a bit higher between her legs as he pulled her hips forward onto his lap, his thigh pressed firmly against her center. She whined faintly with the force of it, even through the layers of her skirts it made her core throb with unknown want.

“Iksos bona skoros ao pendagon hen issa?” he resumed in a more measured tone, his voice lower now. Is that what you think of me?- “That I only wanted Rhaenyra for the throne?”

His hands slid up her back, pulling her flush against him. Ryna’s lips pressed against the leather of his collar as he whispered in her ear, “Or do I detect a hint of jealousy?”

Was she so transparent? The very thought of him reading her so accurately made her feel about as obvious as the sun is bright. Despite Daemon’s embarrassing insinuation, it was impossible to think whilst being held in such close proximity to him. She attempted to regain her composure, but his hot breath against her ear and the way he dug into her heat with his knee was driving her mad.

“And what if I was?” she finally blurted out. “You never once glanced my way, not like you did her. I do not wish to be second best even to my own husband.” Ryna tried to make distance, attempting to push away from his chest.

Daemon wouldn’t allow it. His grip was strong and possessive, making it clear that he was not willing to let her go just yet.

“Who said you would be second best?” his words spilled out gravely, sweet, yet viscous as they fell from his lips. “Have you so easily forgotten how I used to dote on you? How I called you my little sweetling? Do you not remember how I would let you ride with me on Caraxes before you claimed your own beast?”

Ryna was taken aback by his perception of the past, not realizing that her uncle had remembered her so fondly. Perhaps she had spent too much time dwelling on inconsequential matters. She peered up at Daemon as he held her forearms tightly in front of his chest. The matter of Rhaenyra was still of some concern, but clearly she was mistaken about a great deal.

“Yes, Uncle, I do recall. And that is what made my envy all the more dire when you attempted to pursue my sister, barely noticing me as I tried to bid you welcome home. I felt you had forsaken me in favor of her.” She didn’t feel obligated to mention how desperately lonely she had felt when he was sent away once again, nor the deep sense of heartache she had experienced upon hearing about his wedding to Laena.

Dameon’s grip on her lessened and the softness now present in his features made her feel a little more relaxed. His hands caressed up her back once more as he sat down on the stone parapet and brought her fully onto his lap. Ryna’s dress protested, the skirts fighting as he pulled her knees forward to straddle him. It was an obscene, intimate position for a young maiden, but she couldn’t help be reminded of better times when she found great comfort in that same lap.

“Your envy?” he mused almost sympathetically. “Have you been pining away for me all of this time, sweetling?”

“No,” she answered abruptly, feeling the hot sting of mortification as he continued to reveal the inner yearnings of her heart.

He let out a deep, hearty chuckle as he brought a hand to her face. Long fingers traced the outline of her cheek before wrapping around her chin. She had forgotten the contentment of his affections even though the way she recieved them had been altered now that she was grown.

“No?” he echoed with mock disbelief.” He gently gripped her chin between his fingers, forcing her to look at only him as he spoke harshly. “Do not attempt to deceive me, niece. You could never tell-tale when you were young, and you still lack the talent.”

Daemon’s hand released her chin, sliding it down to rest against the base of her throat. “You forget I can see right through you… I know what you’re really thinking.”

“What am I thinking then?” Her voice was not haughty, but tinged with awe as his rakish wiles seduced her into calm once more.

“You’re thinking…” he paused, bringing his hand to brush a strand of hair from her face before caressing her cheek. “You’re thinking that you would welcome my touch further. You’d welcome my affections. My attention.”

His hand slipped further down, sliding along the neckline of her bodice he drew a finger against the top of her breast. “You’d welcome more than that. You want so much more than that. No matter how you pretend otherwise.”

Ryna’s breath stuttered out disjointedly, her chest heaving not just from his capricious words, but the unfamiliar touch of his hand at the swell of her breast. It was not at all unpleasant, but it was unseemly. The sounds of the banquet carried on from inside, but nobody had disturbed their solitude yet. She would venture an allowance, just this once.

“And what do you want, Uncle?” Ryna gazed at him, entranced at being the object of his focus after having been starved of it for so long.

As Daemon looked into her eyes, his expression darkened with what appeared to be lust and longing. His palm lowered over the curve of her breast, cupping her soft mound gently as he leaned his forehead against hers. A low whimper struck against Ryna’s closed mouth as his fingers grazed lightly down her bust, traveling over her ribcage and then rounding to her hips.

“Nyke jaelagon ao, jorrāelagon mēre,” he purred deeply. I want you, dear one- His lips brushed against hers as though trying to lure them open. “I’ve always wanted you, but thought it too wicked, even for the likes of me, to tarnish you with my degeneracy.”

His hands slid around to the small of her back, pulling her closer with a satisfied grunt. “But, now that I know you’ve been hungering for me, sweetling, I’m beginning to think… that you’ve always been mine. That I’ve wasted so much time hiding from the truth.”

She could feel the heat of his breath upon her face, coaxing her so enticingly into his thrall. Her lips parted to release a quiet breath, but before the air had fully escaped her mouth, Daemon sealed them with a kiss. Even though she had never kissed a man, she was consumed by his fiery passion. She closed her eyes, her fingers wrapping around his back as she whispered hushed, sultry mewls against his lips.

His tongue swept her lower lip, teasing at her mouth until she yielded to him and allowed entrance. The kiss was urgent and demanding, filled with untold desire she’d only read about in old tales of Valyrian mythology. One of Daemon’s hands roamed to the exposed skin at her right knee, bunching the fabric up higher and groaning as his fingers felt the bare skin of her thighs. His lips tasted of Westerosi strongwine and spices, his tongue plundering her mouth as though it were an indulgent ambrosia all its own.

“I should stop before I go too far, sweetling,” he groaned, tearing his mouth away as he regarded her. “I don’t want to ruin you out here in the open… Or at least I do not wish to get caught doing so.” A wicked smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, but the yearning was still present in his eyes.

Ryna fussed at the loss of his sweet kiss, an aching throb now coursing throughout her entire core. Lost in the affections she’d always wanted, she could not possibly think to stop now.

“No, please,” she pleaded without meaning to. The words were barely a soft gasp against his neck as her lips found the pulse of his throat and pressed a gentle kiss to it.

Daemon chuckled at her protestations, leaning his forehead against hers again. It was a simple gesture he had always used in the past to ease her distress, although there was an entirely new meaning to it now, it still made her feel at peace in much the same way.

“What will people say if they see us?” he whispered with feigned anxiety, his hot breath skimming against her dampened lips. “A wicked prince spoiling a young innocent maiden with his turpitude. What sort of debauchery is this?”

Her uncle’s words were laced with a sense of mockery, but she knew he spoke true. She sighed and kissed him once more, making sure to keep it brief lest she become unable to refrain from continuing. Ryna slipped off his lap, feeling her senses slowly return to her. She glanced at the glowing light coming from the hall and exhaled with relief when there was nobody present to see their misconduct.

She smoothed her skirts so that they were not so unkempt and tucked away any loose strands of hair back against her scalp. Daemon took his time in rising from his seat on the parapet, adjusting the front of his trousers slightly as he did so.

“You should return to the party,” his voice was rough with lust and did not sound pleased by the prospect. “At least for now we should keep up appearances. For now…”

“And what of our earlier conversation?” she asked almost demurely, with a submissive tone she was not frequently used to employing. “What of Father’s ultimatum?”

Daemon took a few steps forward, crowding into her as he rested his hands firmly at her waist. “I won’t suffer any suitor but myself to claim you,” he hissed possessively. “Especially not some timid lordling whose ineptitude would bring your heart naught but bitterness, my sweetling.”

Ryna couldn’t help but smile with the ornery way he insisted no other man should wed her, but it would still be difficult to convince Father to allow it.

“How shall we persuade my father that you are worthy than, Uncle?” she peered up at him, her fingers gently clutching the sleeves of his doublet.

“Worthy,” Daemon said with a scoff. “I have the blood of Old Valyria. I am the Prince of the City. I am a dragon, little niece.” He let his hands slide around to her back, gripping her hips greedily. With a swift tug, he yanked her flush against his chest and whispered quietly in her ear. “Name another who is more worthy?”

Gods, he was too good at this. With barely his low trill in her ear, Ryna’s knees felt weak.

“I do not question your value, Daemon. There is no better match in my eyes,” she placed her small hands on his chest and pushed him back so she might look upon him face to face. “But I fear Father will think the worst of your intentions.”

He let out a gruff chuckle at that, a knowing smile spreading wickedly as he tilted his head. “Intentions?” he mused with thick sarcasm. “Yes, how horrible it would be to bed, wed, and impregnate his sweet innocent darling daughter. I’m sure the thought of the latter will be a dagger to his heart.”

“I am speaking in all earnestness, Uncle,” she ruffled, her lower lip pouting out at his jest. “He will think you wish to claim the throne by way of wedding me.”

Daemon chuffed, clearly amused by her petulant scolding. “So, my brother thinks me a scheming opportunist, does he?” With a shrug he dismissed the notion, yet added, “Well, he isn’t wrong.”

A wolfish smirk pulled at his lips as he leaned his head down to her ear once more. “Although, if the throne comes to me as a result of seeding your belly with my babe, my sweet niece, then I certainly won’t complain.”

“You are awful…” she scoffed with disbelief, making space between them again. “How can you not take this seriously? I don’t want you to be sent away again. You know you should renounce any claim to the throne.” Her pale lilac eyes grew wide, peering at him with thinly veiled worry and beginning to gleam as tears threatened to come.

He clenched his jaw at the mention of relinquishing the Iron Throne. “Daor. Nyke jāhor daor,” he growled. No. I will not.- “Do not ask me to lie down like a whipped dog. And do not bring tears to your eyes in an attempt to soften me.” Daemon’s eyes remained cold as they narrowed at her, the fondness all but gone from his voice as he continued.

“I have spent my entire life living to the expectations of others. I will follow the path I know I am destined for.” He gripped her chin roughly, forcing her to look up at him and meet his gaze. “I will claim what is mine by right, and you will be a part of it whether you wish it or not, little niece.”

Ryna attempted to speak, but he stopped her by placing a single finger over her lips.

“You have made it clear that you are mine. You will do as I say. You will wed me and stand at my side when I ascend to the throne. Those are the only outcomes I will accept,” he ordered sternly. “And to ensure it, I will have to use any means necessary. If that includes ruining your innocence to ensure you do not wed another… So be it.”

There was a palpable tension in the air between them. She wished to have the sweet man she had shared her first kiss with back and not the tyrant that stood before her. But, Ryna understood his ambitions, just as everyone in their family did. She knew she had touched upon a sensitive subject, perhaps too insistently, and now regretted digging into a wound that ran exceptionally deep.

Most distressing of all, was that she believed his purpose to be true, even though the thought of what lengths he might have to go to achieve it sometimes haunted her. Now, he might not even trust that she had any faith in him or his calling at all.

“I am grieved,” she replied with a quiet whisper. “I did not mean to say that you should not seek the throne, Uncle, but use it as pretense so that Father lets his guard down. He knows you want it and he does not wish you to have it.”

The truth of it was that between Rhaenyra’s bastards and the Hightower half-blood mongrels, the pairing she’d make together with Daemon would have the strongest claim to the throne. If something were to happen to Rhaenyra, the throne would pass to Ryna, but the realm was still not wont to have even a Targaryen Queen rule over it. If she wed Daemon though, then there would be no question of a higher authority. She had no desire to rule and would pass it to her uncle gladly.

His grip on her chin faltered, the anger leaving his voice and replaced by a tired sigh. “My sweetling, you know not how difficult it has been for me to restrain myself for all these years. You have grown more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.” He spoke low and deliberate as he gently brushed along the line of her jaw. “It was a challenge unto itself, not to ravish you the moment you became a woman, but I was certain your father would geld me for it.”

She could not help but laugh at his admission, although Father had certainly not opted to castrate her uncle for his supposed transgression with Rhaenyra.

“You laugh but only I know how it felt to resist you day after day, year after year,” he growled, voice husky with need. “I was tempted on so many occassions to claim you as my own, to steal you away to Dragonstone and keep you there.”

He leaned closer, burying his nose in her platinum tresses and inhaling deeply of her scent. “And now you’ve left yourself vulnerable, sweetling. Now that I know you want me as much as I desire you… There is nothing that can keep me away.”

“Not even the King,” he added with a huff, his lips moving to trail the smooth skin along her neckline.

She was not sure how to reply to such conviction, especially when it concerned her father. Ryna did not wish ill of him, but then she was sure Daemon would not hurt his own brother. Well, mostly certain at least.

Daemon must have sensed her hesitation, for he murmured softly against her temple. “Let me handle your father, my sweet little niece… Just focus on being my good girl, alright?” His grip was firm, but tender on her shoulders as he pushed himself away from her. “Now, you must head back, before anyone comes. I wouldn’t be surprised if Viserys hasn’t had the servants upturning the keep for you by now,” he chuckled wryly and pressed a kiss against her forehead before disengaging from her completely.

As he released her, Ryna suddenly felt an unbearable emptiness. His lips left her skin feeling warm and wanting more, but he was already taking steps away from her, retrieving his chalice from the surface of the parapet. The tone of his voice told her he would brook no disagreement in this and she knew it would be for the best that she return.

“Return to the celebration, sweetling,” he said with his back to her as he looked out over the city. “And do not worry your pretty little mind of all this. I will take care of your father. You have my word.”

Ryna had so wished to ask him if he would dance with her this evening, but soon realized something as she turned and headed back inside. That once they were wed there would be a week-long celebration and she would have as many chances to dance with her uncle as she liked.

She paused for a moment as she stood in the flickering shadows of the hallway that led back to the Great Hall. Ryna had seen it clear as day when she was only but ten and two years old. She did not understand what it meant, but had spent weeks combing the library for information trying to understand it with no answers to be found.

She’d had a strange daydream or perhaps a vision. In it, Ryna had seen a beautiful young woman with flowing silver-gold hair standing beside her uncle Daemon as he sat upon the Iron Throne.

It had befuddled her for years until finally she began to mature, her skinny, tomboyish body blossoming outwards like the petals of a flower. And, one day she looked in her hand mirror and realized that the woman she’d seen, was none other than herself.

It did naught but break her heart when she then found out that his affections, nay his ambitions, laid with Rhaenyra. And, she’d forced herself to tuck that long lost song of what might come to pass away, when she heard Laena gave birth to twins. Ryna locked it all tightly, somewhere she might never think of it again.

And yet now, it might all be coming to pass regardless. She didn’t know whether she should be excited or aghast at what might happen in the coming months.

She stepped into the Great Hall and was pleased to see that most every guest had imbibed much of her father’s generosity since her departure. Nobody seemed to take notice of her as she walked through the crowd aside from Ser Criston Cole who eyed her wearily. She cared little for the man, thinking him a miscreant since observing him beat a man to death at Rhaenyra’s wedding. Ryna wondered how it was he still held such an esteemed post regardless.

Heading right up to the King’s table, she was not surprised to see that most everyone had abandoned her father as they always tended to do once a banquet got underway. He sat alone in his chair without a soul to even pour his wine. Ryna lamented how lonely he appeared. The most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms and here he sat deep in his drink and completely alone.

Father’s eyes brightened as he saw her, a slur in his voice, “Daughter! I was wondering where you ran off to. Come and pour your father another.”

“Do you think it wise, Father?” she asked with a playful tone, knowing he would not be denied despite her pestering.

“Your King demands it, girl,” he jested with a smile and she obediently filled his cup.

“I’m sorry, Father,” she apologized, her voice demure and meek in an attempt to show him the deference he deserved, not just as her King, but as her forebear.

He waved a hand, scoffing as though it mattered not. “I should bid you apology, my child. For suggesting you dance with that Lannister fellow. He is truly insufferable.” Father’s eyes grew wide with joy as he let out a boisterous laugh and she could not help but join in the royal ribbing of Jason Lannister.

“But you still must choose a husband, Ryna,” he said somberly, the mirth still poking at the edge of his words.

“I know,” she replied with a smile, trying to show her appreciation for the years of independence he’d allowed her. “I will perform my duty for you and the realm, Father.”

“That’s my good girl. Disobedience never suited you,” he took a long swig from his ornate chalice. “Besides, I have all that I can handle of that with Rhaenyra,” he quipped with a chuckle and quick raise of his brow. “Now leave me, child. I have wont to pass swiftly from drink to slumber tonight.”

“Good evening, Father,” she bowed her head to him slightly and turned to give him the space he desired.

She glanced around the hall looking for a certain blond uncle, but did not catch sight of him. Perhaps he was being cautious by not being seen together with her in front of the masses gathered for the celebration. It was an intelligent idea that she thought she would abide by as well for now. After all, she’d had enough excitement for one night.

Ryna nodded at several lords and ladies she know of, but barely knew as she retired from the banquet hall. The path to her chambers was quiet and uneventful and after minimal effort undressing, she soon found herself comfortably lying in her bed, ensconced in plush blankets.

Thoughts swirled of the moments she’d shared with Daemon on the balcony. Ryna could still taste him upon her lips and feel his hands upon her body. As though attempting to reprise the memory, she ran her fingers gently over her breast in much the same way he had. It was too much to bear. She clenched her thighs together and turned harshly on her side with a squeal of flustered arousal.

She tried to clear her mind of lustful thoughts and peered out the window at the high moon. Would Daemon be able to convince Father that he would be a worthy suitor? Truly there was no better man in terms of Valyrian descent, but her father had been so angry with her uncle, so many times over the years. She worried he might not be able to let it go.

Given all that had occurred and the pressing marital matters at hand, she’d thought it might be difficult to sleep, but surprisingly it found her quickly.

Notes: This was the longest chapter I have ever written! I could not stop - a woman possessed!

So, I know this is not entirely necessary, but I thought I would write up a little post-chapter introduction to explain some of the setting I’ve chosen for this story.. And why I decided to make these choices.

I wanted the OC to be young, but not too young as it wouldn’t make sense that she would remain unmarried if allowed to get too old. I also did not want such a huge gap of time to pass after Rhaenyra and Laenor’s wedding. Ten years is such a huge amount of time, and I wanted the OC to have been within a comparable age to Rhaenyra when she last sees Daemon.

Now, with that in mind, the timeline of the show is also very confusing when you compare it against the timelines on the wiki, which is based on lore. There is an understanding of an approximate amount of time that has gone by on the show, but even when using those estimations, the years don’t come close to the dates on the wiki. I know I shouldn’t focus on such trivial matters, but it did in fact bother me while planning my own outline. I decided that I would base it more loosely off the official lore dates of events and ages of characters, and not the show's. This is something you may or may not notice, but it is worth mentioning. Any changes made are not necessarily for lack of being informed about it, they are just conscious changes.

One glaring issue is the birth of Rhaenyra’s first three children.. All of which are born in pretty quick succession, 115 AC, 116, AC and then 117 AC. That means that technically, this fic should be starting in 117 AC.. Only 4 years after the events of Rhaenyra’s wedding to Laenor (114AC). And Baela and Rhaena were born in 116 AC, which certainly causes some difficulty in lining these dates up with the show. Laena dies in 120 AC and yet her children look much older than 4 and the same can be said for Rhaenyra’s as well.

So, I’ve decided after much deliberation, that Joffrey’s birth will take place in 119AC instead of 117AC, meaning that instead of 10 years, only about 5 years have passed since the wedding. And Laena’s death will be moved to 118AC, 2 years earlier than in the lore, and much earlier in the show. I think if you add the time skips together.. That the (10 years later) jump that occurs ends up being about 126AC which doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me, except for the fact that they’re likely trying to line things up for the Dance of the Dragons, but the timing still feels off.

I also wanted to say that I had several starting points in mind for this story, but this was the one I just happened to like the most in terms of the timeline and how close it is to Viserys’ death and all the major events that take place afterwards! So please enjoy, and I do hope I can capture the tone and feel of the show and characters without stepping on my own feet too much. I have never attempted to write a story in this time period or style, so I guess we’ll see how it goes. Expect some growing pains until I’m more practiced and do not judge me too harshly.

Another thing worth mentioning is that I wrote the first chapter in a rather obsessive flurry that lasted most of one day and all of a night. Suffice it to say, it slipped my mind to add in the High Valyrian, given how much I had my hands full with grasping a more Shakespearean take on English. I will likely add placeholder Valyrian in, so that it does not hold me up too much as I write. When finished, I’ll take the time to research how to make it more accurate. So don’t worry too much if you do happen to know High Valyrian and find any glaring errors.

But! Please DO tell me what you thought! Also.. Yes, there will be a lot more. This is planned to be a rather big story... Read Chapter 2 here.

[eternalbright-star]

nsfw. Yan!Duchess x Fem!Knight!Reader

So what if she's a duchess? It doesn't change the fact she fucks you good and hard :3

"What did the Crown Prince want to talk to you about?" She asked, watching her wine move as she swirled the glass around.

No response.

"Oh right... It's because your mouth is stuffed full with my cock... Do you think that Prince will give you the same amount of pleasure that I give you, slut?" Manicured finger nails hold your chin, mouth stuffed with her cock and cheeks stained with tears as you knelt in front of her, naked.

"...Speak, puppy." She says, smooth voice calm and collected despite the situation.

"No master... Only you can give me pleasure... I'm all yours to claim, master..." Pink lips jut out into a pout as you hugged leg, looking up at her with glossy eyes, despite your stature and muscles, she finds it very endearing how you never fail to look so cute. Scars and all.

She smiled down at you, a chuckle escaping her lips as she caressed your face with the back of her hand, watching as you leaned into her touch.

"You're just so cute... I can never get angry at you..." But it doesn't mean she can't get angry at the Prince for getting close to what's hers, even after she had already staked her claim on the female to the Prince.

"Come. Ride your Master's cock." Standing up, you hover over her strap on, lining up the tip to your awaiting hole, slowly pushing her cock into you, even after having been fucked with her cock before, you always needed a minute to adjust, so she would soothe you by rubbing your thighs, whispering sweet nothings into your ears as her fingers traced patterns on your back.

"You're doing so well for me... taking your masters cock so nicely like the good girl you are..." She held your hips, guiding you up and down her cock.

She watched as you lost yourself to riding her cock, loving how your cheeks are flushed, eyes closed as you focused on the sensation of her filling your walls and hair a mess.

She loved watching you chase your high, it's just something about you being so submissive and compliant in her presence has her hiding her sly smile behind her wine glass, taking a sip as she enjoyed the show in front of her.

At least now, she'll take it easy and pamper you before she has a word with the Crowned Prince tomorrow.

[roxineedstosleep]

Can you do platonic batfam with a male reader who is like Hunter from the owl house

Imagine having a manipulator uncle and is a clone of someone

Clones have no personality.

Not at least in the interim of their realization.

At the beginning they know what they want and that, then, when they interact with a more real world they realize that they are nothing and at the same time they are someone.

The emptiness that comes with realization, anger, loss, parendiza and acceptance are things that take time. They take time, tears, reproaches, rejections, acceptances, cries, screams, health and so many other things.

Conner surely understands what the reader is going through, he knows what it means to be someone's clone and not knowing what else to do for oneself.

Conner didn't know he could be himself until he stopped trying with Clark.

The reader… well.

Being Dick Grayson's clone wasn't something you'd like to have known.

Worse yet… meeting Dick and then the whole family was even worse.

You no longer knew if your affections, hobbies, likes and dislikes were a macabre work of genetics or because that's what you'd really be if you weren't a clone.

You were- are? soooo much like Richard.

But at the same time you were so different. His dark light skin was like a beautiful bronze compared to your uneven brown skin. It looked like your hair waves were hideous compared to his perfectly wavy hair. His eyes were the perfect shade of blue, well-place mole on the chick, his voice was more enchanting than yours.

Every time you saw him more and more, you felt as you looked in the mirror something about your appearance warp into an eternally striking malformation.

Your nails or your fingers didn't seem to be straight, your teeth were getting bigger and twisted(?), your hair was not manageable, your skin started to get more pimples or pores… nothing seemed to have an end.

You were too young to even be considered Dick's twin, at best, like Damian, you could be considered his younger brother… his son? To old for that?

Well, like Conner, someone had to have given the egg for that cloning thing to work.

That wasn't the point.

The point was that you were everything Richard wasn't. You never would be and never would become.

You didn't have the strength or the agility or the courage or the chutzpah.

When Bruce found you, it was as if he had stopped time and locked you in the Batmobile until Zantana and others came to see what they should do with you. You were just looking for the quickest way to buy candy. A simple detour around a corner and all of a sudden you were being pecked and bewitched by a bunch of people in tights who wouldn't stop asking you questions or wanting to get inside your head.

Your only mistake was scape from the orphanage for candy.

When the spells failed, when the manipulations came to nothing and when everything looked like it was going to end with you ten feet underground behind a ditch… they resigned themselves to completing the last box in the "kidnap a civilian" kit: they had to see if you were a fucking clone.

Bruce didn't even think of Dick as a possible cloning victim in the first place.

You didn't look like him… not in the right way. At least from Bruce's perspective; being the genius detective that he was.

Bruce had just squeezed the wheel of possibilities with the DNA of everyone registered in the Watchover system… the genetic co-incidence was just that.

A fucking co-incidence.

And Dick, he had the terrible luck to show up as a match. But even with that proff he did not believe it.

You, you couldn't be a clone, you had to be something else. Didn't you?

Your son? a mistake from the past?

No.

You were just the result of a crazy ex-girlfriend, an idiot Dick and a test tube.

They took you with them. You couldn't walk around without anyone watching you. Besides, a mansion was better than a low-security orphanage. Wasn't it?

But it didn't help any.

To them, to Dick himself, you were just a token that everyone was replaceable.

Bruce wanted to test if you were trainable to be Robin, but you could barely run without dying in the attempt. It didn't matter how many days you stayed in training or fighting.

Nothing worked.

Your belly was visible, your fatigue was or seemed chronic (some cloning error?), your appearance definitely resembled Dick but not in the right way. Or at least that's how you began to perceive it over time. As they, the Waynes, used to constantly emphasise to you.

Sometimes you could stand for hours in front of the mirror wondering if you were really a clone or if the machine had broken down.

And just as your relationship with your image began to deteriorate… the relationship with the members of the house didn't even seem to get off to a good start.

Damian didn't know how to treat you, Jason definitely looked at you with pity, Tim watched you like a lab rat, Alfred and Bruce tried to make up for all their faults with you.

Dick… Dick, like Clark, didn't want anything to do with you or relate to you.

At the beginning he tried. I mean, one of his best friends is a fucking clone, who was fiercely rejected by the person who should be his family. Wouldn't it be hypocritical of him to reject you?

But it was no use. The few times you did hang out together it was clearly awkward for both of you. And even if anyone asked how you were related, Dick was quick to reject any connection.

"He's a friend's cousin, I babysit." "Oh, a co-worker's son." "He's one of the Wayne Foundation kids."

Over time Dick really emphasised that he wanted nothing to do with you, or to know about you or even to consider accepting your existence. He pulled away, with different excuses or reasons to the point where there was no reason why they should relate to each other.

So, seeing that nothing could ever be the same again… you decided to take the next step.

Clearly they didn't want to see you. They didn't want to relate to you.

Dick was, much to your consternation considering that he even never get you a proper ID, your legal guardian, but even he didn't make a big deal out of it.

Damian wouldn't give you the time of day, Alfred and Bruce were always busy, Jason for clear reasons didn't want to be there, and Tim had a purely clinical interest in your existence.

Why be with them? Well, you needed a roof over your head, yes, but other than that there was no reason why you should waste your time and effort wanting to be there.

You were taken off the streets almost as an adult, you could see your way to entertain yourself until you could get out of there. You didn't have the same pressure as they did with public image, you didn't have to go to galas or society balls.

So, you looked for other ways to entertain yourself.

First it was sports, but you sucked. Really sucked.

The arts didn't seem to be your thing, even if you tried.

Dancing was also out of the question and singing, even though you weren't terrible, wouldn't bring you any kind of personal satisfaction.

That's when the clandestine outings came in.

You drank, you tried drugs, you did whatever it took to get out of the Wayne family's sight for more than a day.

There were bad experiences, definitely, but it seemed like life wanted to somehow make it up to you for everything it put you through.

Before long, you found relatively decent people.

People who, in the worst situations, you wouldn't hesitate to ask for help.

There were even times when you would spend up to a month or more away from the family home and never get a call or message about your whereabouts.

Before you knew it, the years passed and you had turned 18… or at least you could say so considering you were a fucking clone.

Months away from the Wayne's, calculating that time away from home, I'd say it was a total of 2 cumulative years that you were away.

And you were happy in those months far from the Wayne mansion. You had two good friends, who were in and out of drugs just like you. They would meet in a small, ramshackle studio and eat and get a job to survive together. When the going got tough, you'd rush back so your buddies could make ends meet.

Sometimes you would even send them some food and old clothes that everyone in the house was reluctant to throw away.

Many of your clothes were, ironically, things that others had left behind. Not because you didn't have clothes of your own, but it was easier to finish wearing worn out clothes than to wear something new that you could wear later.

But that wasn't the point.

You didn't know anything about the Waynes at that time, and they didn't know anything about you.

And that seemed to work just as well for them.

Worked perfectly for you as well.

You didn't have to deal with them, they didn't have to deal with you. Wasn't that the best thing?

If you came back alive, with tattered clothes and calloused hands, they wouldn't say go. It didn't matter if you'd spent most of the winter sleeping without heat or if you moved the bathtub into the living room to avoid flooding the floor during the rainy season.

You were invisible to them. And you were happy about it.

But, like everything else in life, nothing seemed to be enough, everything seemed like a sick joke and no matter what you did, you always ended up in the same mental hole that kept you from moving on.

You don't even know how the fuck you ended up like that.

It was just a party, a private fucking party with your two best friends. Jackovy had brought a new sour candy (real sugar tasty candy) to try, Luz brought her own special drinks. You had gone out of your way to make spicy mac and cheese that had just the right amount of creamy yet tangy cheese. What was the worst that could happen?

A fucking Joker bomb, half a block from Jackovy's ramshackle building, that's what. Just as the three of you were halfway through dinner, ordering takeout for something sweet for dessert…. a stinking bomb shattered the front windows to the street and Jackovy jumped on you to get you out of the place.

Without thinking too much you grabbed Luz by the arm, and both of you held on to Jackovy's large figure to escape from the building that was collapsing second by second. As soon as Jackovy put one foot out into the street, the whole building collapsed and you pushed him and Luz as far away from the collapse as you could, they pulled you in time, but your leg got caught in some of the debris.

You didn't want to see it, you didn't need to see it, but that leg was definitely broken. You didn't know the severity, but from what Luz was shouting in her native language and the insults your other friend was hurling you knew that a bandage wasn't enough.

Clearly, as if it were a bad joke, because the Joker really was a lousy comedian, it wasn't long before Gordon and a member of your family arrived at the scene of the crime.

It seemed so strange to you, so weird.

They really were good at acting their double persona. I mean, you never saw Dick be gentle with you before. Not when you broke your arm after trying to climb the chandelier like he once did. Not when Bruce yelled at you until he was hoarse because he couldn't do gymnastics.

You never saw Bruce act carefully when pulling out the debris. You didn't feel Dick's desperate way of calling a paramedic like fake.

But, it didn't matter.

Really, if you didn't get over that everyone in the family had taken acting classes you could believe a little bit about their acting.

Really, omitting all the obnoxious disinterest you had in them, you could say they were worthy of an Oscar for best acting or at least they were too professional to care whether you were the forgotten clone in the house or not.

As soon as one of the two wanted to get into the ambulance with you, you shouted Luz and Jackovy's name for them to follow you. The paramedics didn't know what to do, but there wasn't much to say about it either.

"Only family members or couples can join-"

"Jackovy is his husband" Luz had shouted, noticing how you were trying to run away from the nurses' restraints " Besides he always use his husband's"

"A child can't be an adult's boyfriend-" Dick had tried to say, frightened looking at Jackovy, who definitely looked to be at least about 27 years old. His prominent beard and his height and musculature really made him look old, how funny that he was only a couple of years older than you or Luz.

His unfriendly face didn't help the current situation either, but that didn't matter. The point was that Jackovy had health insurance in his name, so why did the technicalities of the safe age of consent matter now?

"I'm 23, his MY husband, he's coming with me" You interrupted.

The opinion of two men in dark spandex didn't matter anyway. You're married? Perfect, the husband has more right to be with you in the ambulance.

Your friend stuck around while Luz stayed behind to see if anything could be salvaged from the wrecked apartment.

Neither you nor Jackovy or Luz felt sorry for the place, it didn't belong to either of you, it was just an old building used as a game room. But, some things were of sentimental value.

If they could be salvaged it was worth a try. Also, probably many of the drugs were there. Was a better option to clean it before the police started to seek there.

Getting to the hospital and getting your leg fixed was easy. Making sure the fake marriage paperwork and the fake ID Jackovy had gotten for you passed as real was the tricky part.

You and Luz had done a perfect job in creating all the false documentation in order to generate a fake ID.

Better job of adding a little more age to you.

They knew your ID was functional, as you had even been able to get your friend out of the police lockup on a couple of occasions.

But the fake marriage paperwork they weren't sure about. those were, in a better word, almost new. Not even more than a week.

They would not have been created had it not been for your friend's last minute idea to be covered in this way. Jackovy did it expontanea.

It was fraud that paper, not that your ID was any less fraud than that certificate, but at least you only had one ID.

Jackovy had several marriage certificates with different people's names on them. Some for a greencard, others like you, who needed to be able to use health insurance.

But the paper passed as valid, Jackovy's insurance cover most of the expenses and now you could get some rest before you could leave for Luz's now truly owned apartment.

The bad joints, at the end of the day, had ensured that you didn't lose the money you had saved… but for some reason had lured a falsely concerned family into the hallway outside the room you temporarily had in the hospital.

What the fuck were they doing there?

[cinnam0ins]

𝗟𝗘𝗩𝗜 𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗥𝗠𝗔𝗡 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗡 Whenever "she" is mentioned, you can replace it with "you", no problem

𝗕𝗥𝗢 𝗜𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗧𝗬𝗣𝗘 𝗧𝗢 ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

Bro is to always put his cape on her shoulders when he sees her shivering, but act like it was “just practical.”

Bro is the type to spend a little too much time cleaning stains off his gear just because she’s the one who got them dirty.

Bro is the type to say something like “You’re so reckless” in a grumpy tone, all while constantly keeping an eye on her no matter the situation.

Bro is the type to correct her posture during training while touching her as little as possible, but secretly blush when he realizes how close he got to her.

Bro is the type to act like it annoys him to hear her laugh, but secretly memorize that sound for days when he needs to relax.

[lemon-popp]

Spending time with the Sith: episode iii

Pairing: Qimir x Black! female oc

Warnings: swearing, NSFW smut (intense making out, fingering in the pool), fluff, mention of cancer and death. PROBABLY GRAMMAR AND TYPING ERRORS (not proof read)

Word count: 4,9k

masterlist

The sun has risen, the fiery ball shining its yellow hue through the length of the cave, giving it a dreamy glowy haze. The light creeps deeper in the cave, making its way to the bedroom in which Luna laid peacefully on her back. The wrapped messy bun that once sat atop of her head was now let loose due to the lack of a bonnet and her insufferable tossing and turning last night. Deep brown curls fell across her face and sprawled out against the pillow she used. As if her faced was framed by a chocolate cumulus cloud. Her body stretch out like a starfish, one leg hanging off the bed and out the duvet, the other bent like a hook. This was the best sleep she has gotten in a long time.

The planet's main light source finally reaches Luna's eyes, begging her to get up and start the day. She answers to nature's alarm clock with fluttering eyes, adjusting to the change of the darkness of behind her lids. A yawn escapes her as she stretches, a loud groan escaping her mouth. She was sure she had sleep marks littering her face as she sat up straight, immediately noticing the lack of presence of a certain someone. The spot next to her was vacant, Qimir no where to be found.

Luna furrows her brows with confusion, wondering if she illusioned him climbing into the bed last night. Conjuring the mahogany scent he carried after his bath in the pool. The warmth she felt radiating from him even though they were easily three feet apart. He was there. There's no doubt. Then why dd he leave?

Was I snoring? kicking him? Or worse...what if I stunk? I mean I haven't taken a decent shower since I was home.

Luna grimaced, lifting her arms up to take a shameful whiff of her pits. The smell wasn't awful, definitely manageable, but compared to his polished state last night it was probably way more noticeable. Luna cringed hard, noting that she must take a dip in that pool of his before being met with him again.

With one final stretch, Luna shimmies off the bed, lighting testing if she could put more pressure on her foot. Nope. The defeated girl sighs. Although she didn't want to admit it, hopping into the bedroom and changing clothes with one foot was a pretty demanding activity that she didn't want to go through for the rest of today. Especially with her helper randomly running off like this.

Luna's eyes scan his cluttered room, filled with various trinkets from different planets that gave the assumption of his being well traveled, searching for something to use to help her walk. After, a couple look throughs, her eyes catch something. A cane.

ha, gotcha

Luna hobbles her way to the wooden cane that leaned against the stone wall across from the bed. Dust littered the handle signifying its obviously very frequent use. The young woman slender fingers wrap around the handicap tool, feeling the smooth naturally carved ridges.

perfect

Luna leans on the cane, using it as a crutch to freely move herself about the stoned home, unbothered to change back into her tactical gear since she was alone apparently. Her short stature limped to the main room clad in her black tank top and matching shorts that rode up high on her plump butt.

Luna walks toward the stove, wondering if there was more of that soup to eat for breakfast. To no luck, the pot was empty causing a disappointed sigh to leave her lips.

i’ll make sure to ask for the recipe before i leave…if he ever returns

Her mind trails off of her growing hunger going back to the man that took her in yesterday. Where had he run off? How come he trusted her to be alone in his home. She could snoop. Steal his valuables.

Was he stupid? or did he just trust me?

“Trust is a strong word, young one,” Qimir’s deep, timber voice echoes off the walls into Luna’s not-so-sharp ears, causing her to jump. Her hand clutches at her chest feeling the race of her heart that thumps from being startled in such a way. Taking her time to catch her breath before processing what Qimir just said.

How did he-What? Did he just answer my question? How? How did he know?

Qimir smiles, with his signature smirk, from the entrance of the cave, his muscular arms crossing, taking in the girl’s confused face as her mind races. The man has been standing there for a while, watching Luna make her way to the stove in her undergarments that made her look ravishing. The black spandex shorts clinging onto the curve of her ass like a second skin. Ass that bounced gently with every crippling step she took. A part of Qimir. A rather large part, wants nothing more than to shove his face in it. But that wasn’t really appropriate at the moment.

So instead, he stood there broodingly, using the Force to read her mind. To gauge her true intentions. There was a an initial doubt in his mind when it came to her, that temporarily washed away with her (possible) ‘mom has cancer’ crying act. But the unsure feeling that was subdued quickly crawled back to the forefront of his mind upon waking up at the crack of dawn.

Qimir rushed out of bed, a strange feeling rumbling in his gut telling him to search the immediate area for possible jedi. He still believed this was a trap.

A girl this perfect. A heart so sweet, but careful fortified with fearlessness. A face and body that could entangle any man, woman or creature in a dangerous web. She’s too good to NOT be a trap.

After hours of trekking he found nothing. They were still the only ones on this planet, but he still had one more trick up his sleeve to find out her true reason for being here.

“I know. I just—that’s just how i felt,” Luna regained her composure with a grip on her cane, bringing Qimir back to the present. Instead of overthinking and coming up with impossible realities, Luna chalks up his strange statement to a recall of her sleepy words last night.

“I trust you” The words from the last night rushing back into her memory that Qimir reads.

If she was working with the Jedi she would know that he was reading her mind. Hell, she would even attempt to fortify her mind. Not give him easy access like an open book on a table.

Maybe she’s really not an enemy.

“Anyway, you bring any food back?,” Luna fills the silence with a large expecting smile. Hoping that he had returned with the ingredients to make that delicious goopy soup.

Qimir rolls his eyes reluctantly letting her brightness infect him. The way her lips curled into the smile, showing the straight teeth she had, it made his heart flutter. He reached into the bag he carried, grabbing a yellow banana to which he tosses across the cave in her direction, watching her stumble to catch.

“hopefully that’ll hold you over until dinner,” Qimir officially makes his way deeper into the main room. Dropping the bag that hung from his bouldery shoulders with a loud thud to the ground, taking a seat on the lonely chair. He gazed up at the woman in front of him who held the fruit in her grasp, clearly disappointed that this was all there was to eat.

“How’s your ankle?,” Qimir points his shoe covered foot towards her, motioning to her injury. Luna shakes her head slightly taking a bite from the banana.

“I don’t know. The pain keeps going in and out. It’s annoying,” The gorgeous woman sighs, clearly defeated. She wanted nothing more than to be better already and get her hell out of here.

Qimir takes in a deep breath hoping to ease the churning feeling in his stomach. Guilt rush over him from knowing that he could heal her with a quick graze of his fingers if he really wanted to. I mean, It’s not like he didn’t want to, the selfless part of him truly did want to. But his self-serving side overshadowed that thought.

If he were to share his power with her, it would require him to reveal who he really was. For her to accept him. To accept the arguably terrible things he’s done. To give him her trust. And for him to accept that trust.

He wasn’t ready to do that.

She’s just gonna have to wait until nature takes its course and heals her.

“You’ll be healed soon. I do have medicine,” The seated man swallowed trying to ease the sickening sensation that brewed in his stomach. Although he felt this way, Qimir did a successful job at acting cool and smug like usual.

Luna rolls her eyes at his nonchalant statement, heat rising from the passion of her chest to almond of her eyes.

“Soon?! I need to be healed now! She’s out there waiting for me,” She wailed with tears starting to stream out of her eyes, down the plump apples of her cheeks. Staining the brown porcelain skin of hers. Voiced quivering as her tone was now raised to a soft yell. Even when upset her voice still sounded sweet like a perfect jar of honey.

Qimir’s heart clenched, but he stayed silent. Unsure of what to do to help her. To soothe her. They meet each other’s eyes, sharing a look of sorrow before Luna’s suddenly becomes overcome with anger that is followed by her ‘storming’ towards the cave’s exit.

“And you’re off to?,” The powerful man’s eyes never left her, following her movements that seemed to be leaving.

Luna stops briefly.

“I’m gonna wash myself. care to join,” Her voice drastically less sweet than before now laced with malice as she spoke sarcastically, mocking his words from last night. It hurt Qimir at first, confusing him.

What did i do? I didn’t twist her ankle. Granted, i could heal her, but she doesn’t know that.

Thinking quickly, Qimir uses the Force to get into her mind once again. The words lingered in her head, feeling bad for the delivery but the statement holding true. She was on her way to take a dip in his ocean pool, hopefully to relieve herself from the intense emotions that filled her. Another statement held true as well. Well it wasn’t a statement but rather an invitation. Despite her awkward response to his inquiry last night, part of her wished she answered with confidence. That reflected what her body ached. So she mocked him. half doing it out of spite, the other genuinely open for him to join.

The ache that tortured Qimir eased upon acquiring this information. If she wanted him to join, he’ll join. It was the least he could do for her if he wasn’t going to heal her.

Qimir peels himself off the chair, sauntering his way to the same direction Luna has gone, immediately seeing her in the middle of the shore, back turned to him as she stared at the glistening blue water.

Luna begins with a drop of the cane, the thudding sound muted by the sand. Her delicate hands then grabs the bottom of her black tank, pulling it over her head. Her curls being ruffled even more with this action. Next were her black shorts which she climbed out of awkwardly, trying to avoiding damaging her foot even more.

The girl now stood bare. Only her backside unknowingly exposed to Qimir who stares unabashedly. Admiring the deep line that started between her defined shoulder blades and stopped right above the dimples of her back. Her ass even more perfect outside the shorts, so round and plump, like a nice pillow.

The extraordinary sight afar has a dramatic affect on our man standing ten feet away. All the blood that was used to function quite literally his whole body, rushed to his appendage that now strained against his briefs. He groans out quietly to himself to not disturb the clueless lady as he rubs the growing ache.

Luna feels the breeeze blowing against her nipples, causing her to shiver slightly before taking her first gentle, limping, steps into the water. The soft liquid wrapping around her like a warm blanket, her body melting into it, almost becoming one with the powerful element. Her eyes close, focusing on keeping her breathing steady to keep her emotions at bay. But not even this relaxing bath could help. Visions of her mom flashed through her mind. Visions of her worrying about Luna’s whereabouts. Worrying if her daughter was dead. The worrying ultimately worsening her condition, expediting the punch in date.

Luna’s chest tightens around her pounding heart, constricting the vital organ. Her throat closing slowly as if hands were clutching tightly to it. making it hard for her to breathe. Her head swaying from dizziness, until a large, calloused hand lands on her shoulder, pulling her back to the real world. Her breath hitches in the tight airway of her esophagus.

Luna’s head glances back at the hand that touched her, surprised that Qimir followed her especially after her tone. His towering presence burned behind her, a realization run through her mind that they were both bare. She wasn’t uncomfortable though by this realization though. Just surprised.

Qimir notes how her body slightly relaxes at his touch, fully expecting her to probably lash out again. He sighs, still seeing how her overthinking tormented her endless mind.

Sure he had no clue how it feels to go through a pain quite like this. To have a mother at all. Let alone a mother you’ve spent your whole life with who you’re about to lose.

Luna drops her head in defeat, letting drops of salty tears drop into the large cast of salty water as she cried silently. Qimir takes the opportunity to help her clean as her. His large hands cup together, gathering a pool of water to which he gently pours down her back, washing any grime that littered her deep skin. The water trickles down the line of her back. A line he desired to lick.

Qimir stood behind her. Decorated with perfectly carved muscles, strength used to kill anyone who cross him. However, the strength that was shown right now was his restraint.

Qimir has seen countless of women in a similar fashion. A fun past he did have indeed, but none of them had an effect quite like this on him. A woman suggesting anything remotely related to sex, he would pounce on her. Taking them quick and roughly, fulfilling his own pleasure. Although this was…different. Yes, he found her alluring, which was an understatement. He craved almost nothing more than to ruin her. key word being almost, what he craved more was taking care of her. protecting her.

His fingers massages her skin with his nimble fingers, starting at the nape of her neck climbing up to the curly thicket of her hair. His left hand takes a handful of her thick hair, making a makeshift ponytail to full expose the length of her neck. The other unused hand graze up her damp arm tantalizingly slow up to her shoulder, feeling her buttery skin on his tips.

The little action setting Luna’s skin on fire.

Qimir bends slightly at his waist, bringing his face next to hers, his pink lips centimeters away from the conch of her ear. Light breaths escapes his lips, breathes that make contact with her exposed neck. Her glossy eyes close to full take in his touch. To focus all of her senses on the gentle touch Qimir gave her.

“you will see your mom again,” Qimir’s deep voice vibrates into the shell of her ear, the affirmation soaring through her mind. A light smile grows across Luna’s face as she appreciates the reassurance, especially after just beating herself up minutes ago.

“you promise?,” She whispers with a rasp that resulted from how much she has been crying. Her eyes remained close fearing that once she’d open them her mind would go back to forging false realities of her mother. So Luna keeps them closed, opting for the relaxing touch of Qimir’s gentle but possessive grip on her.

do i promise??

In the very short time Qimir has known Luna, he has definitely grown to care for her. Even in his paranoia that she was a Jedi spy, he still took her in. Fed her. Offered his bed. Which terrified him. Caring for someone terrified him. Because caring led to betrayal. Caring leads to loss. it could lead to love…which, in his case, was a deep vulnerability. Him promising was a test, a test to see how far he’d go for her, how much he cared for this girl.

Qimir stayed silent to avoid answering, using the tips of his fingers that grazed down the side of her body to distract from the unanswered question. His large vascular hand untangles from her curls and breaks through the surface of the water, following the path of his other hand. His palms descend lower and lower down her body, feeling the deep curve of her waist, before landing on the protrusion of her round hips. The digits on his hand grip tightly, not one tight enough to cause the girl pain, but one that would require a skilled maneuver to escape.

Qimir twists Luna by this advantage point, forcing the beaut to now face him. A gasp emits from her lips, stumbling from the quick and sudden movement which inadvertanty send her falling into his chest. A fall that she breaks with gentle hands placed firmly on his defined chest. Feeling his hammering heart beat.

As her wet miniature hands made contact with his body, it was almost as if an electrical current punctured his heart and traveled down south. Inflating his cock. The hands that once had a gentle grasp on Luna’s hips to become much firmer as he pulled her lower half away from his growing appendage.

Luna's eyes climbs up the man’s upper body slowy, unabashedly taking her time to take in the detail of his olive skin and the scars that littered him. She wondered where they all came from, considering that he lives alone on this planet.

He probably hasn’t ALWAYS lived here, Luna. The man has a past.

The girl shoos off the thought, continuing her visual climb until she finally meets her destination. His eyes. His eyes that were already closed on her. Eyes that peered through his perfectly fallen strands of black hair that tickles her forehead. Eyes that were clouded, laced with a feeling way stronger than lust at the moment. Eyes that make Luna gasp.

Their eye contact doesn’t waver. Even with the fact that the water they stood idle in was crystal clear. Allowing a HD view to the others full front side. What Qimir’s v-line was pointing to underneath those black pants. Or the taut breasts that was covered by a flimsy tank top. Neither of their eyesight faltered. The passion and the intensity from the stare being more than enough for them.

Qimir gives her his infamous smirk, one that intimidates many, but was currently being used to hide the absolute control this woman has over him.

The left hand that was previously placed on her hip, was now under her jawline, his thumb caressing the silky skin of her face. Wiping the remaining streak of tears that stained her golden skin before placing his thumb flat on her pillowy full lips. Fighting to urge to part them, sticking it in, or anything else.

“Of all my years. You are the most beautiful woman i have ever met,” Qimir’s drops his voice down to whisper, as if it was a secret, as they literally weren’t the only two here right now. Similar to the affect of Luna’s touch on Qimir’s chest, The words the leave his mouth enters her hear and immediately reaches her womanhood which was already throbbing from the moment Qimir entered the pool. In an attempt to ease the pulsating, Luna squeeze her thighs together causing a soft moan to escape in turn before she could catch it.

“What do you say…when someone gives you a compliment?,” Qimir’s head dipped lower, finding the crook between Luna’s shoulder and neck and buring himself there. His breath tickling her with every spoken word. Dominance oozed out of him so naturally, dominance that lured Luna in like a worm to a fish. His pink lips first pressed gently on her thumping artery, laying continuous pecks up the length of her neck to her jaw, and across her cheek, just barely missing her lips.

He knows what he’s doing

“Than—Thank you,” Not only can Luna barely breathe, but apparently she could barely speak. Stumbling over her words once again like an idiot.

Qimir’s smiles grows, his control slipping completely out of his grasp due to her innocent stuttering. The wide gaze of her almondy eyes that sent him down a spiral and without hesitation he kisses her.

Their lips crashed into each other that the waves did in the distance to the rock shore. The feeling of Qimir’s lips on Luna made her lightheaded as he kiss with such vigor and experience. His hands gripping the back of her neck, keeping her in place as if she was trying to escape. Kissing him was a feeling like no other, a feeling she didn’t know she was missing out from all this time. The way his free hand caressed her body under the water, completely avoiding the places she deeply craved that he touch out of respect. The way he nibbled at her juicy lips and then licked them to soothe the pain. Luna was already fully at his mercy.

Qimir’s now busy hands, allowed for Luna’s hip to float freely in the water, which of course gravitates towards his body leaving no space inbetween. Their bodies clashed together, similar to their lips. Luna’s breast pressed tightly on Qimir’s brute pecs as she wraps her arms around his neck. Qimir’s cock know fully laid flat against her soft stomach, heat radiating off of him like a furnace.

The horny woman gasps at the feeling of his length on her, daring not to glance down to see just how big he really was. Instead using the sense of touch the feel how his base started at the top of her mound and the tip ended well above her belly button.

of course he’s big. i mean look at him. look at those arms.

His hands travel down the length of her back resting on the rounding of her ass as he grabs a handful with no warning. All while still devouring her stunning face.

Loud moans overtake what once was a quiet, relaxing evening as Luna’s body is sent into overdrive. Her skin burned as if gasoline was poured on her and she was sent to the sun. Her mind was foggy like and early morning in the forest, forced to only think about Qimir. She ached for him. She wanted him.

Luna breaks the kiss to flip around back to the position they started in. Qimir stands there partially upset at her abrupt ending of their make out sesh, but that quickly subsided when her plump ass push perfectly against his dick. A deep groan leaving his pink lips to let her know as such. He has the desire to insert himself from behind, taking her passionately in the water. But before he has the chance to, Luna grabs both of his hands, placing one of her full breast and the other on her throbbing mound.

Qimir’s eyes widened at the girl’s assertion, surprised that she had this confidence in her because the blabbering girl she was earlier didn’t show that one bit. His shock, however, faded away quickly, being replaced by determination. She had officially given him permission to touch her intimates. To fully please her. To claim her.

Qimir’s finger begin to work on the bundle of nerves down south. His middle finger drawing precise, agonizingly slow circles around her clit. Her knees buckle at his action, but it brought back up with a squeeze of her nipple.

“This is what you wanted pretty girl? For me to touch you like this?,” His teasing words makes her grind into his pleasing hand. She was already so close. So close to relieving all the aching she felt. Starting from the ache of her mother’s health, to the literal ache of her ankle, to the ache between her legs caused by a stranger she just met yesterday.

what am i doing? A doubting thought rushes through her head.

“You’re relaxing. Let me help you,” Qimir’s voices breaks through, answering her question once again. Her eyebrows furrow in wonder, mind completely unfocusing from the magical work going on under the water.

okay, once was a coincidence, but twice now? Something is up—

Luna’s thoughts were cut off abruptly by Qimir’s finger entering the hole that was already begging to be filled. He took his time inserting one finger, unsure of how far she was willing to take this and the amount of experience she had. A pleased squeal that escaped her lips give him reassurance as he continues to pump in and out, now using his thumb to rub her clit.

A knot formed in her stomach that was getting ready to snap, her precious moans growing louder and more frequent. Hands reaching to grab Qimir’s bulging biceps for balance.

“Q—Qimir. I can—i can’t. I’m cumming,” Luna buckles as an orgasm rips through her, tears running down her eyes, but this time not in sorrow. Her shaken body grows limp by the second, the grip she had on Qimir still lingered but very weak.

Their chests heave in unison, reeling from the events that had just occurred. Luna, finally able to catch her breath, stands dazed in the water with Qimir still wrapped around her. His single digit still inside of her warm cunt.

He didnt move. Still recovering from the hearing her angelic, heavenly moans. From how she placed his hands on her warm cunt and how she quivered under his touch. From the warm feeling of her wrapped around his finger, how he wanted nothing more than to feel her tightly hugging his cock that still throbbed for her.

The girl leaned her head back, resting gently on his chest with her eyes closed, her long eyelashes touching the top of her apple cheeks. She was in complete bliss and Qimir observes this, taking in the new glow this girl possessed. His heart swells knowing that he completed his task. He made her relax. He eased her mind.

Qimir slowly removes his lonely finger from her womanhood, afraid to disturb her from this pure state and lifts her up bridal style. A shocked sound leaves her as her body was now fully out the water, exposed to the breezy air, but Qimir pays no mind. His eyes stay trained on hers as he walks them towards the shore, neither of them speaking a word, a comfortable silence fillings the air as he wades through the water.

The couple finally reach the shore to which he gracefully places Luna down, avoiding her hurt foot. The sun was near set, golden hour doing its work on the gorgeous man that stood in front of her. The water no longer a barrier, his sculpted body was now in full display, the orange sun defining every shadow of his abs, the veins of his arms and the monsterous size of his dick.

that was what was underneath the water?!

The flutters start to make a return, but are quickly pushed to the side.

don’t get greedy now. this was just a one time thing. he probably only did it out of sympathy anyway.

Qimir reaches behind him, grabbing a cream robe that was laid out neatly on a nearing boulder. He opens the linen fabric towards Luna’s direction, offering to put it on for her. Her eyes meet his. The dark clouds that once lived in his irises vanished, replaced with a genuine softness that makes her feel…safe.

She turns around accepting his offer and he slides the thin material over her arms, bringing it to hang at her shoulders. His fingers tickling her skin the entire time, His breath lingering at her neck.

Luna takes over the finishing touches of tying the robe and in the meantime, Qimir wraps himself in one of his own. They both matched. Except one was perfectly fitted, tailored made and the other one extremely oversized. The sleeves ended way past her hands and then hemmed end nearly went over her knees. She looked like a nun.

Luna turns around to face Qimir with a smile and a funky pose, modeling the unique fitting robe. A laugh brewing in his chest at seeing how his clothes swallowed her whole. A laugh that is stifled, offering a humorous smile instead.

“Okay, let’s get you inside. I can hear your stomach growling,” Qimir shakes his head at the girl as he wraps him muscular arm around her waist to help her back into the cave.

episode iv

[chainsawsangel]

but the evil is necessary.

Corrupted!Pup commission, done by @irlplasticlamb

-

This turned out absolutely PHENOMENAL, OH MY GODDDDD. I absolutely am in love with the spooky, cryptid vibes that are within this piece and I love it! Pup looks spooky and stellar, it's great!

I have to thank @irlplasticlamb for this commission of my THE BOYS Werewolf!OC/Self-insert, this is a version of pup that's very feral and very out of it! I think what they did with her matches perfectly with how I imagine her to be in this state.

GOD, I love this.

(and yes, she is calling out to Ben/Soldier Boy)

[ak319]

Weird Yan Cousin x reader (Platonic)

//Warnings: Mentions of prostitution, human trafficking, kidnapping, weird behaviour but not incest, gore)

Your life had taken such a twisted turn for the worse this year, leaving you wondering if you were cursed. First, your parents died tragically in a fire that destroyed their home. Then, you found out your partner had been unfaithful. Since you shared an apartment, you had to move out, but they stayed, and the two of you were still arguing about selling it to split the money.

As if that wasn’t enough, you lost your job just three days after the breakup--allegedly for poor performance, which was completely untrue. None of this was your fault, yet everything seemed to be spiralling out of control. You were teetering on the edge when you received a strange phone call.

It was from someone claiming to be a distant cousin, Nova Salem. The name struck a chord--she was from your father’s side, the daughter of your uncle Ralph. But you had never met her or any of that side of the family. Your father had severed ties with them long ago. Ralph was only his half-brother, born from your second grandfather, Edmund Salem, whom you’d also never met.

Her sudden call made you feel uneasy, but you were desperate for help, and she offered it without hesitation. Pushing aside all the questions swirling in your mind--about your family dynamics, her abrupt contact, and the series of unfortunate events that felt like a row of dominoes crashing--you packed your bag. The next day, Nova's chauffeuse, Robyn, picked you up from your friend's place.

Robyn was an odd one, giving you mostly one-word, cryptic answers to anything you asked. What really threw you, though, was the route she took. You’d assumed Nova lived somewhere in the city, but Robyn just kept driving... and driving.

Now, here you were, standing in front of a massive estate in the middle of nowhere. You nearly jumped out of your skin when Robyn suddenly spoke from behind you.

"Let's get you inside, ma'am." Robyn's voice cut through the eerie silence as you gripped the strap of your bag, letting out a nervous chuckle. "Um, are you sure this is--"

"Yes, it's the Salem estate."

You glanced around, trying to keep your nerves in check. It could easily pass as a horror movie set, noting the distant tree line, the stormy skies, and the endless dirt road behind. Was this even the right choice? Panic started to creep in. What if she's not my cousin and just stalked my family tree to lure me here?! I am so stupid!

"Welcome, cousin."

Your eyes snapped forward to see a tall figure standing in the entrance, finally registering. Nova, no doubt. She stood taller than you, with short, thick black hair neatly styled, wearing a black turtleneck beneath a long cloak-like robe, paired with black pants...and bare feet?

Before you could even react, she closed the distance and pulled you into a tight hug, muffling your greeting and leaving you a bit breathless from the unexpected embrace.

"I can't believe you're finally here! You see this, Robyn?!" Nova exclaimed, her large hand gripping your head and shaking it playfully. "My little sister is here at last!"

Robyn merely nodded and silently took your other suitcase inside, leaving just the two of you.

"S-sister?" you stammered, taken aback. Her eyes gleamed even brighter, if that was possible, the intensity in her gaze at odds with her composed appearance.

"Indeed, my soror," she affirmed, her hands now firmly grasping your shoulders. "I never got the chance to feel the love of siblings, and with all the family drama and stuff, I was always left out. I never had the chance to have any real connection with family. You’re the only cousin I have."

Her words tugged at your heart, though you couldn’t shake the underlying suspicion.

"No other cousins at all?" you asked, cautiously.

"Nope. My mother was an only child. Anyway, let's get you inside." Nova kept her hold on you, gently steering you toward the entrance. Just before stepping in, she paused, making sure you took off your shoes in the porch. "Enter humbly," she said with a strange conviction. "We are born of the earth, and to the earth, we will return. It’s only right that we honour our origin, for soil should never fear soil."

What? The statement left you puzzled, but you decided to go along with it, stepping inside the dimly lit hallway.

Candles? Really?

"Um, why are the lights off?" you asked, your voice slightly shaky.

"Electricity? Oh, I forgot--you’re a city girl," Nova replied, her tone almost teasing. "I'll ask Robyn to have the switch on for your room--the fan, the lights---but the rest of the house operates without it."

"Why, though? In this day and age? Like, nothing at all?"

Instead of answering, she simply let out a low, eerie chuckle, leaving your nervous laugh hanging awkwardly in the heavy air.

"Let me show you your room." Nova's voice echoed down the dimly lit corridor, where candle flames flickered against the walls, casting long, dancing shadows. The mansion’s interior had an unmistakably gothic feel, with dark wood panelling, high arched ceilings and classic, aged furnishings. The air was thick with an old-world charm as if you had stepped into a place frozen in time. The paintings on the walls, though faded with age, exuded an eerie beauty, depicting somber figures mostly of a woman--always the same portrait of her--and forgotten landscapes

You stepped inside the room, expecting more of the same gloomy charm, only to freeze in disbelief.

What the hell is going on?

"Why is it… all… pink?" you asked, blinking at the sight before you. The walls were plastered with Barbie stickers that looked as vintage as the rest of the house. The bed was oversized and covered in frilly pink bedding, surrounded by plush toys that had seen better days.

"Isn't this what girls love?" Nova said with a wide, innocent smile. "Like little sisters?"

You spun around, trying to process everything. "Hold up. I just met you for the first time ever, so can you please stop calling me your little sister? We're cousins and barely even know each other." Your voice rose as you gestured at the pink explosion around you. "Also, do you think I’m 12?!" The moment the words left your mouth, you felt a pang of regret. Nova’s smile faded, and she looked taken aback. Guilt set in as you realized how harshly you had reacted. She had offered you a place to stay during a rough time. Maybe you could have been more understanding and patient, especially considering she provided you with a bed and a roof over your head.

"Oh my God..." For Nova, that was the most adorable thing she had ever witnessed.

"Um... I--"

"ROBYN! ROBYN!" Nova’s voice cut through the air, making you back away nervously. Her gaze remained fixed on you as she continued to shout.

"Yes, ma'am? How may I assist you?"

"(Y/n)..." Nova grabbed Robyn by the collar, shaking her with surprising force. "My sister--sorry, soon-to-be sister--just had her first tantrum! All thanks to you, Robyn, you absolute genius!"

What in the world--is she being excited or just passive-aggressive? You couldn’t tell.

"It’s okay! I mean, I like it... It’s good."

"You do? You don’t want another room?"

"Um, if... it’s available th--"

"No, it isn’t."

"...this is it then... I guess."

"Robyn, get the food ready. My cousin needs her evening nourishment."

"Aye."

They left you standing in the room, utterly dumbfounded. Everything about this day--and about her--was making you feel dizzy. The way she carries herself, the way she speaks--it’s all becoming a blur. Something in your heart warns that this is going to be a nightmare.

But at least you’re not in some serial killer’s clutches, as you feared before entering. Being an only child and living in such a large mansion might have messed with her mental health, but you hoped it hadn’t gotten worse than this.

The sudden flicker of the lights jolted you from your thoughts, making your soul feel like it had left your body. The room’s colour was now painfully vivid, almost too much to bear. Honestly, the dim glow of the candles was easier on the eyes.

You soon found yourself dining with Nova in the grand dining hall, the two of you beginning to learn about each other. Mostly, you listened to her recounting her adventures. It was impressive how many languages she knew and the places she had visited, though she seemed completely oblivious to modern slang and anything related to media, which you found a bit amusing.

"Anthropologist, huh? Isn't it boring?"

"Boring?" She cackled, her laughter echoing through the vast room. "Absolutely not! I get to travel, explore, and find fascinating things." Judging by the eclectic items scattered around the room, she was certainly telling the truth.

"You seem to have a fondness for skulls."

"Oh! Haha! Aren't they so symbolic in their own way? They are empty, yet their hollow eyes seem to gaze into the essence of mortality itself. Each one holds the silent echoes of a life once lived, a reminder of our own fleeting existence and the stories that we leave behind."

"Are they real?"

"I leave that to the admirer to decide. What do you think?"

"Fake or maybe both, judging by how much you’ve explored."

"You think I’d bring skulls from my adventures?"

"Umm..."

Her laugh interrupted you again. "You’re so naive, (Y/N)."

Just as I suspected.

"Anyway, what about your love life?"

"I don't feel attracted to the idea of being subjected to bodily fluids, particularly in moments of passion. " You felt your appetite slip away.

That’s a rather...unique way to say you’re asexual and single...?

"Cool. But doesn’t it get lonely here?"

"Loneliness isn’t something I mind. Besides, I’m not alone--I have Robyn and now you. A little-"

"Cousin."

"Indeed, a little cousin." You picked up your phone and then realized something. "Oh, I need the Wi-Fi password."

"Sorry, but that might not be possible."

"What?! Don’t tell me you don’t use Wi-Fi! That’s atrocious."

"You see, this technology that the youth have become so attached to has many malevolent effects. I cannot let you be subjected to that."

"What do you mean?! I need to find a job! And how do you do your own work?" Her calm demeanour remained unshaken as Robyn appeared behind you, slamming a newspaper down in front of you. The suddenness startled you. What is it with these people and their jump scares?

"This is today’s paper and your source for finding work."

"Are you kidding me? I need Wi-Fi for my job. I do half of my work online!"

"I’ll need to observe the signs this week. If they are favorable, you might get access. Farewell, cousin. Have a good sleep. Robyn, please escort her to her chambers." You clenched your jaw as she walked away. "WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?! WHAT SIGNS?! SO YOU DO HAVE WI-FI?!"

God, what is going on? Is this a fever dream?

You were absolutely enraged in the following days. Apparently, the signs were negative, which meant you were stuck with no FUCKING Wi-Fi!

"Maybe the signs will be positive next month."

Whatever that means. In the meantime, you faced a series of bizarre occurrences that only deepened the unsettling feeling about your stay here and made you question reality. Despite her insistence on not using electricity, the candles lit themselves as if by some hidden mechanism. You were certain she used Wi-Fi--how else would she manage her research and extensive travels?

Her behavior was equally bewildering. She walked barefoot, even in the muddy grass outside during the rain, and would spend hours out there.

Some events left you sleepless for nights.

You once saw her talking to a pillar in the lawn from your bedroom window at night. At first, you thought she might be on a call, but no. She was facing the pillar the entire time. And then there was the incident where she literally smelled your... period.

"Eat this," she said, offering you a bowl of literal pickles. You swatted it away.

"What the fuck, dude?!"

"It’s to relieve menstrual pains. Although not scientifically proven, it is a good remedy."

"I’m fine. AND HOW THE FUCK DID YOU DO IT AGAIN?!"

"Just a matter of having good senses."

In the evenings, she always visited you for tea, bringing her two black hounds along. Despite your protests, she continued to bring them inside. You hated how they always seemed to sniff under the bed, her dark, void-like eyes trained on them as if she wanted them to find something.

Wouldn't want her cousin hiding something, would she? Perhaps thinking she could slip away, unnoticed, back to her old life?

Due to the lack of Wi-Fi, you spent most of your time reading books and exploring the mansion, trying out the strange array of activities Nova had set up for you. She instructed Robyn to teach you various skills like shooting, wrestling, and knife throwing....? You enjoyed it though but yes, you were shocked to discover that Robyn wasn’t just a driver, chef, or butler but seemed to be some sort of retired hitwoman. She never confirmed nor spoke about herself, adding to the mystery.

Despite the chaos and strangeness, you found yourself adapting to this bizarre new routine, almost treating it like a vacation and unexpectedly lifting you out of your depression.

You tried finding jobs but with no success. Every time you found a promising ad, something mysteriously went wrong with the car. It always seemed to break down, as if on cue. The phone in the estate barely worked, with your friend's voice garbled into unintelligible fragments or the call cutting off entirely before you could get a full sentence in. It was as if the house itself refused to let any connection to the outside world slip through.

One day, you had had enough of watching Nova work on her COMPUTER in her study while you languished in boredom.

"Look, I appreciate your hospitality, but it seems I’ve actually found a job, and it's time for me to-"

"You haven’t," Nova said, her voice smooth but chilling as she stepped closer, her face half-hidden in the shadows. "Don’t lie. I despise liars."

"Nova, I’ve had enough of this. I’m sorry, but living here is overwhelming with all the bizarre restrictions, the eerie silence, and the lack of contact with anyone! I can’t stay here. I need to go out and find a job! I didn’t come here to live permanently."

"And you think you have a say in that, cousin?"

"Wha-" Before you could finish, a cloth soaked in a strong, suffocating chemical was pressed against your face. The world around you blurred and faded as you struggled to breathe, slipping into unconsciousness.

"You are not going anywhere, Duif." (dove, in Dutch)

You woke up to the unsettling sound of floorboards creaking and the ominous clinking of metal against metal. Your body felt unnervingly cold, and you soon realized you were bound to a chair with ropes.

"Awake, (Y/N)?" Nova's voice, as smooth and chilling as velvet, made your blood run cold. You shivered uncontrollably as you saw her standing a few feet away. Robyn was in another corner, methodically sharpening a row of gleaming knives.

God, no. This can't be happening...

"Please... Nova, what is happening?! THIS ISN'T FUNNY! Please!" You didn’t care that you were pleading and sobbing in front of this lunatic. Fear clutched at your heart, twisting it painfully. You regretted everything that had led you to this point. You’d already lost your parents, your partner, your job--was your life now slipping through your fingers as well?

"Shush. Don't be scared. I just want you to listen to me. And carefully." Nova said as she grabbed a stool and sat in front of you. Where are we even? Is this some hidden room? Your eyes darted around frantically, taking in the grim surroundings, chains hanging from the bloody walls, a nailed coffin standing ominously in the corner, a table cluttered with various torture tools that Robyn stood beside, and, bizarrely, a fucking jacuzzi in the corner.

"Listen, it's time I tell you the things you need to know. About me, this family and even yours. You see (Y/N), my father, Ralph Salem, he wasn't a good man. He was involved in all types of bad things. Especially regarding...women. I was a teen when I found out he was involved in trafficking girls, the reason he fucked around with lots of women and... young girls, simultaneously abusing my mother mentally and physically. When he caught her leaving with me, he killed her... in front of me. Imagine that, I couldn't do anything." She paused with a dry scoff, "You have seen that pillar right? The devil buried her under it. I couldn't stand it. I wanted to die but he kept me alive because I was his heir, with his fucking disgusting blood inside of me. So I waited, I became the perfect heir for him only so that I could kill him in the most brutal way...which I did," You whimpered at her dark chuckle as she wiped your tears.

"Do you know where you come in?" Nova's voice was icy as she continued. "I began researching you the moment I discovered your existence. I wanted some form of familial love, even after I convinced myself I didn’t need anyone." Abruptly, she rose and moved to Robyn, taking a freshly sharpened knife from her hands.

"Guess what I found? Your parents were my father's business partners at one point. You see these skeletons here?" She gestured to the grim collection. "These are the people I hunt, (Y/N)--the ones my father worked with, those entangled in this... industry. And I continue hunting them. So I did to your parents what I did to all of them. Robyn, show her."

The butler pulled a lever, causing a hidden closet to open. Inside, the bodies of your parents were revealed--half burned, half slashed, with their limbs gone, only torsos-making you scream in horror.

"The bodies at the crime scene weren’t theirs. I used my connections to save them for you--along with another surprise," Nova said, her voice dripping with cold satisfaction as she slid the door open further. There, your partner’s corpse was revealed, grotesquely nailed to the wall like a butterfly, their chest open and hollow, blood eagle...which Nova once told you about. Without warning, you threw up to the side, your legs trembling uncontrollably. You could barely breathe, each gulp of air shallow and shaky, and you felt the world closing in. Please just let this be a nightmare. Wake up (Y/n), wake up!

"Did I mention that I eliminate bad partners too? How could I let them live after what they did to my dear...cousin?" She stepped closer, the knife gleaming in her hand. You shook your head desperately, unable to form coherent words. With a swift motion, she cut the ropes binding you, forcing you to stand. Her gaze was fierce, unyielding.

"You, however , were innocent, unaware of your parent's past. So from now on, you are a Salem. You will live here, as you are meant to." Her gaze darkened. "This is your place, your family. And I won’t have you trying to run away."

You slammed the trunk door shut and turned to Nova, who was meticulously removing her gloves.

"He was quite the noisy one," she remarked with a nod. "Indeed, sestra. Though you did a commendable job tracking him, little nerd. Now, let’s head back. My favourite part awaits in the mansion."

Ah, yes, it was Wednesday--skinning day.

From a software engineer to an assistant to a serial killer cousin with an intriguing butler, you found yourself strangely enthralled by this new life.

‘I want this world to be rid of those like my father, who mirror him in even the slightest way, together with you, my dear cousin.’

(AN: I realised that Nova might have put her own childhood plushies in the reader's room, which tugs my heart😭my baby)