#i may have mother issues. i have several issues | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mydearlybeloathed · 2 months ago

Text

── 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you're less than pleased to be marrying the arrogant noble your parents arranged for you. On the day of your wedding, you cross paths with a pirate who seems keen on ruining your big day, and you couldn't be more thrilled.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: luffy x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: minor alabasta spoilers, arranged marriage, I kind of went ham on the descriptions and readers backstory in general, violence, mother issues

𝐚/𝐧: *arises from where i fell off the face of the earth and throws down an offering* greetings.

𝐎𝐏 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

“Respectfully…” You took a moment to compose yourself, sipping from your teacup and raising your eyes to settle on your soon-to-be husband. “You are the scum of the earth, Mr. Toleson.”

Mr. Toleson, quite used to this, only rolled his eyes and moved to pour you more tea. “Pray tell me what I have done to receive such contempt, Miss?”

That question could not easily be answered. Did your contempt stem from your lack of choice, or from Mr. Toleson’s less than agreeable disposition? Or perhaps from society’s overall decision that whatever may happen, you should sit still and be merry. Who cares if your marriage is loveless and your life unfulfilled?

You dropped another sugar cube in your tea and stirred it around. Maybe it was everything all at once. And Mr. Toleson’s… superiority in age didn’t help matters either. The rickety man just reached his late fifties, his hair reaching a color not yet gray, but most definitely not the brown of his youth. You’d seen pictures. He was a handsome boy twenty years ago, when you were but a lemon-shaped babe in the womb.

“I had plans,” you answer at last. “Plans that do not include you.”

His eyes twinkled like the idea was preposterous, his mustaches curling with his lips. Mr. Toleson gazed at you like a child, only discomforting you even further about the idea of sharing a marriage bed. “What plans, Miss?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you snapped back. “I’m going to be chained to you all my life. Even after you die, which I assume will be soon given the state of you, I’ll be forced into widowhood. I look awful in black, you know, and pretending to grieve would do nothing for my mental state—oh, where are you going?”

Mr. Toleson had thrown down his napkin, face hot and brows screwed together. He peered down his nose at your poor attempt at hiding a smile. “When you’re my wife,” he said, tone even and dark, gaze even more so. “You’ll do well to learn manners, Miss.”

There was a threat in there somewhere, for certain, and you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. Mr. Toleson huffed out his too-small nose and spun on his heel, barking at a poor attendant to fix the table’s preposterous flower arrangement.

You gave the young boy a sorry look and stood to leave when a sharp voice filtered in from the next room.

“Mr. Toleson! Where are you going—?” Your mother’s shrill tone cut short, a growl of your name soon to follow.

“Shit.” You whirled on the attendant boy with a pointed finger. He froze, eyes wide as several petals fell loose onto the table. “Please,” you hissed, pressing your palms together. “Ypu must help me.”

The boy dropped the flowers back into the vase, splashing a bit of water. With a single nod, he beelined for the window, unlatching it and swinging it open. You rushed over, his hands pushing you outside. “This is the only way out, my lady.”

“I’ll fall—wait!” You were swinging your legs over the sill before you realized what you were doing. Heart pattering in your chest, you cast him a look, but he was already shutting the window and drawing the curtains behind you. “Oh, dear.”

Down below, about twenty feet down and beyond the hedged yard, were the streets of the city, carts pulled by mules and passersby tracking dirt and mud and other materials across the dirt roads. You glanced around the outer wall of Mr. Toleson’s house. A trellis ran down the side just one window away, which you could use to climb down to then jump into the hedges. Stealing a breath, you began to inch along the window sill, setting a delicate foot on the wide declarative trim running from each window to the next. When it didn’t crumble beneath your foot, you went on, barely breathing as you clung flush to the wall.

Reaching the window, precariously making a step up to the next sill, you nearly tipped backward when you caught your mother’s back through the window. Feet slipping, you scurried down the trellis, losing your grip every few seconds and clinging to the wall. Eventually, you touched the earth, dusting off your dress as you faced the garden wall. Ivy ran all along it, but you’d done enough exploring whilst avoiding Mr. Toleson’s advances to know that a gate hid behind the green. It led right into a damp, drippy alleyway. You cringed down at your custom-made shoes, costing a fortune for certain. Sacrifices had to be made, and today, your shoes paid the price.

Your wedding was a day away, and with it the end of your happiness. Not that anyone cared about your happiness those days. Expelling a sigh, you wandered the streets till nightfall, returning to the grand house in the dead of night.

Your mother paced the entry hall when you stepped inside, the tall door booming shut behind you. Her eyes were on you like a hawk, her words sharp knives. “Where have you been?”

“Uptown,” you drawled, tossing your now dirtied shoes across the carpet. “Downtown. Midtown. Where haven’t I been is the real question.”

She looked close to exploding, cheeks inflated and lips pinched together. “You embarrassed me—You embarrassed Mr. Toleson!”

Waving an absent hand, “I couldn’t care less, woman. Now let me be before I drop dead of melancholy.”

A stiff utterance of your name struck the air, the impact on your back fleeting as you swept upstairs. Again and again, she cried your name till it sounded more like a beg than an order, and it halfway made you desire to face her. But facing your mother and having her see you had long been a futile task.

Her voice struck your back until you reached the top of the stairs and darted down the hall, whipping open your bedroom door and slamming it back behind you. Swiftly locking it, you clawed at your chest, skin constricting and choking you out. That woman… your mother could never understand.

Once, you hoped maybe she could. Your oldest servant, a frail woman who’d been serving your mother for a decade, told you that your mother went through the same unfortunate situation as you. She walked an aisle leading to shackles, just as you would at tomorrow’s soon-coming dusk. But time had turned that woman cold, making her hellbent on sentencing you to the same fate.

Eyes scanning the room, you gave a shaken sigh. Tomorrow you would be forced into a similar room, but that one you would share with Mr. Toleson. Your skin crawled. “At least he only wants my money. He cares for nothing else.”

You slipped into bed, unsure of the next good sleep you’d receive.

જ ⁀ ➴

Up with the sun, you dressed quickly and slipped out of the house, careful not to make a sound as you exited onto the street. There was ample time between sunrise and the ceremony, each second passing with a daunting swiftness. Soon, the morning bells rang throughout the city, signaling that noon had fallen.

You stared up at the sky as the chimes fell silent, chest constricting. This walk around the city had done nothing to quell your distress. In anything, it made it worse; people on the street beamed and congratulated you on sight, offering you flowers and well-wishes. You received them all with practiced kindness, even as doom lurked behind you.

“Just a few more hours,” you mumbled, taking refuge in a damp alley. “I can visit the old pond… perhaps the frogs will be out.”

Nodding, you slipped back out with a ducked chin, walking quickly through the crowds until so little as three people were around and the the stone streets faded into soft dirt paths underfoot. Through sparse trees and lonely wood, you made your way to the duckpond on the outskirts of the city. Not a soul around; perfect.

You plopped yourself on the ground and hugged your knees to your chest, oblivious to the dust curling around you. Maybe, if you stayed right there all day, no one would find you. You could sit through the whole ceremony—through the whole year, till weeds crawled up your limbs and rocks were surfaced by the winds. You’d become part of this pond when the rain fills it beyond the banks, dissolving into an urban legend of what happens to heartbroken young women.

You smiled for the first time in many weeks. That fate sounded as lovely as anything.

The reverie broke as voices crept up behind you. Peeking over your shoulder, you spotted two entities: the first being the constable, and the second farther behind him. This group of people was more like a gaggle, or perhaps a rabble, their boisterous tones causing the constable to cast them a glare.

You jumped to your feet before he could face forward again and darted toward to big oak tree you used to climb in your youth, skidding to a halt right behind it. The constable was good friends with your fiance and would surely escort you back home the instant he saw you.

“Are you sure we can fish here?”

“I’m sure no one’s told us we can’t.”

“Sanji!”

One of the voices, presumably the one called Sanji, laughed in reply while their counterpart grumbled under their breath. Part of you felt the need to jump out and warn them against it, because surely the constable would be quick to apprehend them. But then he would also surely apprehend you.

“Sirs,” the gruff voice of the constable barked, right on cue. “Fishing in this pond is strictly prohibited. It’s for viewing only by law.”

The one called Sanji clicked his tongue. “Is there some sort of sign we missed? Because there’s no warning stopping us.”

Oh, dear. “I’m here to stop you. Now please, put away your tack and gear.” There were a few indignant huffs, but no rustling of a confrontation. Good, good…

“Right. Now, have either of you gentlemen spotted a young woman about?” The constable proceeded to give your exact description, spiking a panic within you. The search party had already begun. “No? Drat. Perhaps I’m at the wrong pond… Good day to you…”

You remained behind the tree for five long minutes, listening to the constable’s steps fade away and the conversation between the two men go on. Peeking out, you saw a tall skinny blond and a man with dark skin at the pond’s edge, fishing of all things.

Puffing your cheeks, you stepped out with crossed arms. “He told you it's not allowed!”

Their heads swiveled around, eyes wide and startled. The blond was the first to recover, his hold on the fishing rod slackening as an easy smile slid across his face. “My, my, what kind of nymph are you?”

Your cheeks warmed as his eyes scanned you up and down. “The angry kind.”

The other man quirked a brow, quicker than the other. “Was that guy looking for you?”

Alarms went off in your mind. “Never mind that, just don’t fish in my pond.”

“Whatever you say~”

“Sanji!”

Satisfied, you trudged off, letting their bickering be drowned out gradually. With the knowledge that the whole city now knew to look out for you, probably thinking the aloof noble girl just lost track of time, you took the long way around, slinking through dirty alcoves you once called your kingdom some years ago.

This whole city was your empire, in your mind. You and the other young girls and boys traipsed about without a care, creating your own world only the lot of you could see. You, of course, were high empress of all alleyways.

Growing up like this meant your mighty empire was toppled. All your old friends had new lives now, time ticking by with mundane tasks and masks to keep up. Many of them would attend your wedding, but they might as well be strangers now. Such was the way of your city. You get old and you lose your life.

A subtle burn welled up behind your eyes as you rounded a dark corner and found the old crates you’d formed into a palace, untouched and frozen in time as the curling alleys of the city grew dusty from neglect. You stopped short at the sight, quickly snapping back to reality and darting away, running as fast as you could to get away. Left and right, you were reminded of how expansive these alleys really were, and how easy it was to get lost in them.

Not that you would ever get lost; you’d cling to your memories as long as possible. You knew this place like the back of your hand, so it was a surprise when instead of a dead end, you turned to find a long alley leading out to the market. The scent of the baker’s stall and sweet rolls being sold wafted down to you, providing a momentary calm—before that laugh broke it all down.

Creeping back around the corner, you waited for the laugh to stop, peering around to find that you weren’t alone. Near the mouth of the alley, a boy stood clutching his chest, laughter fading even as he glanced out onto the street. For just three whole seconds, you swore he was something out of a novel.

Pretty face scarred on one side, but it didn’t make him any less to look at. Hair windswept despite the stillness, clothes ratty in some places and newly stitched up in others. Whoever he was, you’d never seen him before, so where exactly did he come from?

“Hey.” You blinked widely, realizing quite too late that you’d been caught. Locked in severe eye contact, you ever so slowly retreated back around the corner, flattening yourself against the wall. Maybe if you didn’t breathe, he’d think he hallucinated and walk away.

“Hey,” that boy said again, closer now. “What’re you doing?”

You didn’t make a sound, flush against the wall as if trying to disappear even when his face appeared in your peripheral. He blinked, waiting for you to do something. “Why’re you being so weird?”

“I, well…” You glanced around, anywhere but his face. “I was taking a walk.” You tensed up, held your breath, and blurted, “I don’t talk to strangers!”

You stared hard at the ground, hoping that he’d think you were crazy and walk away, but then the boy laughed at you. Gasping softly, you raised your head and gazed at him softly, lips parted slightly. Nobody had ever laughed at you before, at least not to your face like this boy, heaving as his chuckles faded.

“You’re talking to me anyway.” He had you there. His eyes glinted despite the sun being obscured by the tall buildings.

“I…”

He thrust out his hand suddenly. “I’m Luffy.” His hand, his face. His hand, his face. Your eyes darted back and forth until you finally settled on his hand. Dirty, that was the first thing you noticed, and then the callouses. You’d only seen hands like that on a sailor.

You blinked back up at his face, locking in on his eyes. Sailors weren’t to be trusted. They took young girls’ hearts, along with something more personal, and set back off to sea. That’s what your mother said, but you had a feeling your mother had never seen someone like Luffy before. You’d never seen anyone like Luffy, so bright he could’ve been the sun itself. You took his hand quickly, shaking it firmly, and introduced yourself.

Luffy chuckled. “Now I’m not a stranger.”

You couldn’t help but crack a grin. “I suppose not. Do you sail?”

“How’d you know?” Luffy tilted his head, leaning back on his heels, and you forgot how to speak. Luffy wasn’t too bad to look at. He was unlike any of the handsome boys you’d seen in court, sure, but that didn’t matter. Perhaps it endeared you more. Luffy, whoever he was, was different from everything you knew.

“You hands, I suppose. They’re like a sailors’.”

His laugh was odd, like a shi-shi-shi sound, prompting a stifled snort out of you as well. “Yep! I’m a pirate!”

Instantly, your whole face dropped, frozen in place. “Oh… that’s… something.”

Pirates were very different from regular sailors. They stole and pillaged and plundered and did many other terrible deeds. Your great-grandfather had been killed by a pirate… but you’d never known him. It’s all hearsay. Besides, Luffy didn’t look like he would ever think of maiming you. He looked like your next good friend, even if just for now.

“Your crew is here, then?” you asked, moving to sit atop a set of crates along the wall. Luffy jumped as he followed, plopping in the dirt in front of you instead.

“Mhmm. They’re… somewhere.” He snickered. “We just left Alabasta, y’know.”

You leaned forward to gawk at him. “So you saw what happened? With Crocodile? It was crazy.”

Again with that strange laugh of his. “Yep. I’m the one who beat his ass into the ground!”

“You—huh?” Tilting your head, his smile infected you, tugging at your lips. “So, you’re the savior of Alabasta? Not that marine?”

You sat in awe as he told you everything, going so far back that you learned exactly how he met Princess Vivi. By the end of an hour, you were on the edge of your seat, knees snug against your chest as Luffy described it all in grand detail.

“Wow… that sounds amazing. Not the part where you nearly drowned in sand, but you know.” Resting your chin on your knees, “You must feel so… free out there.”

Luffy nodded quickly, eyes unfocused for a moment, staring at the unseen. “Yeah. It’s amazing.”

Your smile grew dim and melancholy. The bells of evening rang in the distance. “Thank you for telling me your story, Luffy. You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugged one shoulder, his expression one you could only call cute. “You wanted to know… what’re you so sad for?”

You hummed, startled. “I’m not sad.”

“Are too,” he said, eyes narrowed. “So what is it?”

For some time, you didn’t say another word. Luffy stood now, hands planted on either side of yours knees as he stared right at you. It wasn’t threatening or seductive, simply curious in a way you’d never witnessed. Like he truly wanted to know. And so, you told him.

“I’m getting married. Today.” You shut your eyes and grimaced. “And I don’t want to, but I have no choice.”

“So… don’t?”

You reeled back. “Did you not hear me? I have to.” Luffy only tilted his head as you scoffed at the sky. “My only choice is to comply with the path set before me. If I stray too far… I can’t stray too far.”

You hardly realized how angry you’d gotten till Luffy’s finger poked at your forehead once, twice, three times. You blinked slowly. “What?”

“I don’t really get it,” he said. “But you seem pretty sure.” He was right in your face, oblivious to the fluster rising in your face. And then he smiled a beaming smile. “Hey, why don’t you—”

“There you are!” A coil formed in the pit of your stomach, eyes slowly drifting to the mouth of the alley. The constable stalked toward you looking as relieved as he was pissed off. “Your mother’s been sending everyone out for you, miss. Have you lost your mind?”

“Sorry, sir,” you mumbled, ignoring how Luffy stared at you all perplexed-like. “I’ll… I was looking for some flowers for the parlor. Didn’t find a patch in bloom. I’ll head back now.”

The constable stepped forth, not yet noticing Luffy. He began to loom over you, and only when Luffy inched closer to your side did the constable’s gaze flicker to him. Disgust was the only word to describe how the constable looked at Luffy. “Let me escort you home, miss. Wouldn’t want you to lose your way again.”

You looked between the two of them nervously. “Of course, sir.” You stood from the crate and moved to follow the constable, hoping beyond hope Luffy would forget the entire ordeal, for his sake. The constable was going to forget all about your new friend, if only Luffy stayed quiet.

“Hey.” You tightened every muscle in your body. “Who’s she marrying anyway?”

The constable jerked to a stop, his deepset brow furrowing.

“Only the most powerful man around,” the constable replied very carefully, very calculated. He sized the boy up. “She’s very lucky to be marrying Mr. Toleson.”

“Let’s go, sir,” you insisted, daring to hook your arm through the constable’s and nearly drag him away. He dug his feet in. “Introduce me to your friend, miss.”

“He’s—he’s not my friend,” you blurted, eyes glued to the ground. “Sir, let us go. I’ve made us late enough. I have to prepare—”

Luffy took a daring step forward. “You shouldn’t have to marry someone if you don’t want to.”

The constable gritted is teeth, hand closing around your arm. “What would you know about what she wants?”

“Let’s go—”

“She doesn’t like this Tole guy,” Luffy persisted. Your eyes pleaded with him, but he wasn’t looking at you, sight set on the tall man beside you. “So she shouldn’t marry him. Tole-y can find someone who actually likes him if he’s so desperate—”

“Shut. Up.” Dangerous. Your tone was dangerous, wide glare moreso. Luffy silently eyed you, looking right through to your soul. “Goodbye. We have to go. Places to be. Come, Constable.”

Halfway turned, the constable kept one eye on your friend, feet slowly following after you—when Luffy reached out, grabbed your shoulder, and tried to tug you to his side. You whipped around to smack him, but your palm swiped at air.

Luffy stood five feet back, his arm stretched beyond comprehension and latched onto your shoulder.

“What the…” Head foggy, you barely registered the click of a gun till it rose in your peripheral. Everything went by far too quickly, and suddenly you stared down the head of the constable’s pistol, gasping like you hadn’t a clue how you’d got there.

“Get out of here, Luffy,” you ordered, not taking your stare off the constable. “I won’t say it again.”

He was gone when you finally chanced a look over your shoulder. The constable swiftly took your arm in a vice and led you onto the street, holstering his gun and muttering, “Street rats have no place here.”

“Sea dog,” you corrected absently, quite out of your own head. “He’s a pirate, so, sea dog.”

As if that would cease his endless muttering.

You were shut inside your house and shuffled away to a sunny parlor, tended to by maids you’d known since birth, their chattering unable to draw you out of your stupor as they powdered your face and tightened a corset round your waist till the room started spinning.

Meanwhile, a pirate boy returned to his friends, not sparing their newly caught fish a second glance as he asked Robin if she’d heard anything about a wedding in the city. The archeologist grinned as if she knew precisely what had transpired in that alley, though she couldn’t possibly have.

At any rate, the notorious Straw Hat pirates now prepared to act on their captain’s whim, not one of them questioning when he said his “new friend” was in trouble.

જ ⁀ ➴

The carriage ride to the chapel was so you bumpy you were half convinced the driver did it on purpose. You sat wobbling from side to side, eyes glazed over, and you let your mind drift away—you became a specter, wandering blindly till you blinked, and you stood in a sunny side-room, waiting to be fetched for the altar.

Your arms like gooseskin, you peered into a spotless mirror despondently. Your hair was done up prettily, face caked in different powders and creams. The sickening scent of rose perfume surrounded on all sides. The dress fit nicely, not too tight, not too loose. Perfect. Not a thing was out of place.

It all set in at once; by the end of the hour you’d be Mrs. Toleman. Your mother would receive all the benefits, all the praise. She’d smile and really mean it. Your husband would be free from bankruptcy, your family’s massive inheritance given to him the moment you say, “I do.” You’d stand on his arm the rest of his life, the perfect ornament, so quiet and dull.

An older woman fussed over the tears dotting your lashes, roughly swatting them away with her handkerchief, chastising you for such childishness.

“If my daughter were in your position,” she said after nearly gauging your eye. “She’d be ecstatic.”

You gazed quite darkly. “Your daughter was in my position,” you whispered, causing her to freeze putting away her handkerchief. “I’m sure you recall her escaping to the circus very clearly.”

A sharp gasp. A drawn hand. Your mother stepped into the room, flustered beyond compare, and the maid resigned to fume quietly. You wished she would slap you. Perhaps the strike would redden your face so much that the whole thing was called off.

“Well,” your mother exasperated, eyes raking down your form. “I hope you’re ready. Look pleasant.”

She weaved an arm through yours as a bouquet of lilies was shoved in your hands. A sneeze crawled up your nose and died as you held your breath, for the next moment you faced two long and full rows of people you’d never met and would never see again.

Despite the petals and music and lovely weather, it felt very much like a funeral march. The empty faces of the guests chilled you to the bone, not one of them sparing even a grin. A few checked their watches. One boy tugged on a young girl’s pigtail, and the girl was swatted for disturbing the peace. A ginger girl fought with a green-haired male in one of the farther pews. Against the far wall a blonde caterer absently smoked a cigarette. Somewhere, a bird sounded like it was dying, crooning a sad song.

This damn city. These damn people. You’d die here, physically, spiritually, and mentally so. White hot panic welled up within you, but it was far too late to even think of darting for the door; you stood before your groom, gazing blankly into his chest.

You felt as if you were dying, a life so short flashing before your eyes as your hands were taken into the clammy grasp of Mr. Toleson. He wore no smile, no warmth upon his face. Only cold indifference. You hoped you looked the same, lest he spy your terror.

The officiator droaned on meaningless words, warbled by your dazed mind. Only when your hands were squeezed harshly did you refocus, blinking widely.

Clearing his throat, the officiator shuffled uncomfortably. “Do you take this man to be your husband?”

Were you at this bit already? Heart thundering, you didn’t dare to look at Mr. Toleson, panicked gaze flickering to the now bated audience. Every eye stared at you, boring into you fiercely, only worsening your condition.

“I…”

Mr. Toleson gripped you tightly, painfully. He gritted out just for you to hear, “You what? We haven’t got all day…”

“I–I…” A gulping breath. A flash of red ribbon and straw. Cutting your eyes across the room, you settled on a boy near the back of the pews, a grin emblazoned on his face. He caught your eye and held it fast. You hardly believed your eyes, yet understood in an instant.

“Miss,” said the officiator.

Luffy tilted his head, as if asking are we doing this? You chanced a flicker of a smile.

You ripped your hands from Mr. Toleson’s sweaty grip, eyes wide and childish smile inching across your face as the room filled with sharp gasps. Gaze flickering up to Mr. Toleson’s aghast expression, you lurched back three, four, five steps till your heel met the edge of the raised platform. As you slipped to the floor a hand settled on the small of your back. The caterer planted his feet beside you, face grim as he gritted down on his cigarette.

“Are you alright?” he muttered. You gave a quick nod.

The point of no return had come, and you’d taken the path once blocked by a landslide, the path you’d dismissed entirely just an hour ago. Your mother gasped your name, a hissed out word, drawing your gaze quickly. She was deathly pale, like she was about to be sick. No sympathy of yours rose to meet her, none at all, and the freedom of two words boomed from your chest.

”I don’t!”

Silence. You heaved in a breath of air, and no one said a word. Like time had stood still. A litheful, frightening laugh ripped through the church and everything sped up all at once.

“Why… you…” Mr. Toleson’s face rivaled the ripest of tomatoes. He hadn’t so much as taken a step when the caterer whirled around and kicked him right in the chest. He blew his hair out of his face and stomped out his cigarette, looking like he’d done this twelve hundred times before. You started to think he wasn’t a caterer at all.

“I’ve seen you before,” you thought aloud. Chaos erupted all around, guests rising from their chairs in a panic, and you just couldn’t put your finger on it. “Oh! You were at the pond!”

Sanji, that was his name. He dodged a punch from one of the quicker, bolder groomsmen, an easy smile on his face. He faced you with his hands shoved in his pockets. “That’s your priority, love?”

You flushed, whether from the tease or endearment, you didn’t know. “Well—”

“You!” your mother’s shrill voice cut the air. You turned just in time to catch her pouncing at you, her hand clawing for your arm. Her nails barely got close to scratching you when a hand branched out of her chest and drove her back by a vice around her neck. Somebody screamed as guests began a mad rush to escape the inevitable fight; everyone had the same guess—pirates.

You’d never been so happy, even with the disembodied hand issue.

Mr. Toleson rose to his feet, nursing his chest, his eyes aflame. He whirled on the groomsmen. “Don’t just stand there!”

Just like that they broke out of their daze. Not just the groomsmen; the constable shook himself out of his shock as several other burly men of the town rallied together.

You inched backward as dozens of eyes settled on you, heart quickening, when out of nowhere that ginger girl from before rushed up with a bow staff and gave several groomsmen severe head trauma. The green haired man drew out three swords. That other man from the pond jumped over a pew, a slingshot in hand. And a tall, graceful woman stared down your petrified mother.

Only those willing to put up a fight were left, leaving only the rougher men of the town and the pirates--Luffy's pirates.

Sanji flung an attacker off his back and sent the guy flying your way, wiping the smile from your face as you yelped and dodged. You scurried off to the side, nearly tripping head over heels in your dress, having to hike up your skirts as you twirled in and out of the swiftly rising rabble.

Luffy’s marksman remained unscathed at his vantage point, lining up a shot and letting it fly. You gasped delightfully when the constable was nailed right in the forehead and hit the floor unconscious. You found a place flush against the wall, and you beamed at the destruction.

Pews turned to splinters under the power of the swordsman. Refreshments scattered across the floor as the ginger was thrown into a table and jumped back up again. Flowers fluttered around as the raven haired woman used some kind of magic to extend her reach. And Luffy—he laughed through it all. People jumped at him with fists and clubs, yet he threw them all off like it was nothing. Perhaps to him it was.

You stifled another smile behind your hands. The people of your town were absolutely demolished by these pirates. These glorious, heroic pirates you would be thanking for the rest of your life—

“You did this.” In an instant your wrists were captured by your ex-fiancee. “Witch. Where’d you get the money to pay them, huh?”

“Let go,” you bit back, jerking away only for his hold to tighten, prepared for your escape this time.

He yanked you closer. “After everything I’ve done for your family—”

You spat in his eyes and kneed his crotch, watching satisfied as he crumbled to the floor. “Family my ass.”

You darted into the chaos without another word. Men lay unconscious every few steps, their bloody and bruised faces staring up at you. You tripped over someone’s leg, growled sharply, and took hold of your skirts. One by one you ripped off the layers of tulle, leaving you in your knee-length bloomers, dress reduced to the lacy bodice and shreds of fabric at your hips. Finally you yanked your heels off, hopping on one foot and then the other.

Right as you were about to drop your left shoe, the man of honor, some guy called Henry, made for you swiftly. Gasping, you gripped the toe of the heel and clubbed him over the head.

Someone grabbed your shoulder a second later. You shrieked and dropped to the ground, slipping out of the grip and rolling to the side. The swordsman appeared suddenly and cut the man down in one move. The body dropped beside you. You blinked, gasped, and let a delayed scream flee your lips. The swordsman reached to grab your wrist and hoisted you to your feet. “You okay?”

“Y-you killed him!” you cried.

“Relax,” he rolled his eyes. “I hit him with the hilt.”

Sure enough, the man only had a gash on his temple and some head trauma most likely. The swordsman looked you up and down briefly. “Watch out for the ero-cook lookin’ like that.”

You hardly cared if you looked indecent. “Where’s Luffy?”

He didn't get to answer—a laugh you quickly grew to recognize had you whipping around, eyes peeled.

His profile shone in the evening light bleeding from the windows. He stood with his head thrown back and eyes tightly shut, a blinding smile on his face. Transfixed, you wondered, not for the last time, if he was more than human.

When his laughter died down Luffy held his fists close to his chest and looked around as if searching for another fight, his gaze finding you. Your heart skipped, but his smile dropped deathly fast. You didn’t have the chance to wonder before his fist zipped a hair's breadth away from your cheek. You hit the ground instantly, head ducked between your knees. You might have remained there forever, wondering just what possessed him, if you were stupid for trusting him, overwhelmed by something akin to heartbreak—when two sandaled feet entered your sight.

“Hey,” he said, giving you deja vu. “What’re you doin’ on the floor?”

Eyes wide, chest heaving, you sprang to your feet and got nose to nose with him. Luffy merely blinked at you. “What’s wrong with you!? First, you help me, then you try to hit me! Why—Don’t touch me!”

He gripped your shoulders and spun you around in one fluid motion. All your sputtering got caught in your throat. Two feet away Mr. Toleson lay flat on his back with the worst bloody nose you’d ever seen.

One. Two…

You couldn’t help it; you laughed. Ugly laughed. Louder and more all-consuming than you ever had before. You tried to choke on it, only making the sound sizzle into harsh snickers.

Luffy felt like he was in a trance, watching you dazedly as he broke into his own fit of laughter.

“Gah!” Your mother bolted for the door, throwing a fretful glance over her shoulder. She paused, wove around a man limping for the exit, and dragged Mr. Toleson to his feet. Coughing, your would-be fiancée set his grim sights on Luffy. Your mother tugged him with her, more forceful now. “Come. She isn’t worth your life.”

Really, it shouldn’t have bothered you. She’d never done anything for you, yet—her words struck you oddly, fiercely. They were gone before you recovered. You glanced around at a loss as Luffy stood a strong pillar in your peripheral. Your eyes darted to meet him as the final pieces of your world crumbled to dust, and you found nothing but cool assurance; you sighed out a breath you’d been holding since you were ten.

“Good riddance,” you choked. Luffy’s lips ticked up in a smile. The figures of his friends came into focus as they gathered around in the wreckage of the church. Emotion tingled in every corner of your body. “Thank you, all of you. I’m… forever in your debt.”

That wasn’t all you wished to express by far. You’d been thinking it the whole while, perhaps even from the first moment you learned he was a pirate. The request teetered precariously on the tip of your tongue when the caterer cut you off.

“No need, madam,” he said with a flourish of his wrist. “Always a pleasure to assist.”

His eyes took you in gratefully, and he was quick to wipe away the small bit of blood leaving his nose. You grinned, almost grimacing, and gave an awkward laugh. “Of course…” Luffy’s shoulder brushed your own, drawing your gaze to him. His bright eyes had you wanting to reach up and brush his messy hair out of his face. Somehow, you refrained. “Just what kind of pirates are you? I didn’t think your lot were in the business of wedding crashing.”

Luffy shrugged his shoulders, barely smiling as he replied, “I like you.”

You choked on nothing. “Well—that’s—indeed.”

The silence of the room, only some harsh breaths breaking it, had you questioning what came next. Your adrenaline crashed all at once as your eyes got heavy and your shoulders sagged all at once. You rubbed at your eyes and suppressed a yawn, shivering as a breeze drifted by.

The ginger girl noticed the change at once, moving to your side despite her own exhaustion. “Let’s get you cleaned up. That can’t be comfortable.”

For some reason, you didn’t jerk away from her touch, so gentle and kind as she took your arm. “Yeah. Uhm, I can go to my servants’ quarters. They won’t say anything…”

The girl scoffed, catching your eye. “No way. You’re going to our ship.” She blanched a second later, backtracking. “If that’s okay with you.”

You watched for any sign of falsehood, and found none at all. You shook your head quickly. “No, that’s fine. Can we go now?”

The girl—Nami, you later learned—giggled and swiftly ushered you out of the wreckage and into the sun. You gave a soft laugh of your own, still very reserved yet filled with the tentativeness of someone realizing that everything would be okay.

And Luffy watched you leave, his lips tugging upwards subconsciously. He stood solidly as each of his friends followed after you, till only Robin remained. She had her arms crossed, head tilted low and eyes scrutinizing. She took in Luffy’s stance, his twitchy fingers, his eyes transfixed on empty space. All usual features on her friend; it was his dopey grin that gave it all away.

“Captain,” Robin spoke. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah,” Luffy nodded. He didn’t even stutter, his reply instant. “Why?”

She nearly chuckled, holding back if only to humor him. She nudged his shoulder with her own to spur him into motion, and the pair walked slowly into the streets.

“What do you know about your new friend?” she asked as they passed under a bakery sign squeaky as it swung with the wind.

He paused. “She’s fancy… and unhappy.” Luffy kicked a pebble and watched it skip all the way to the end of the sloped path. “Very unhappy. She’ll be happier with us.”

Robin’s heart went tender as she looked away, hiding a smirk. “Have you told her that?”

Catching her eye, Luffy smiled. “She knows.”

They caught up enough to spy the others as Usopp and Nami had their arms around your shoulders, bickering absently whilst you snickered quietly between them. Robin nodded, for who was she to argue? Besides, maybe you did. The smile on your face may have betrayed just that.

જ ⁀ ➴

You still heard the boisterous laughter of your new friends even as you swept away from the galley, heart beating a little too fast to be comfortable. They were amazing, sure, but overwhelming at best. All you needed was a moment and you could return unnoticed to the good food and warm company. As soon as you got some air.

You instinctively reached to pick up a skirt as you rose the stairs to the deck, only to grab at air, look down, and grin at the sight of Nami’s brown trousers.

The cool night breeze hit you like a wall the moment you stepped outside, shooting shivers down your spine. The saltiness of the sea clung to your skin and clumped in your hair, filling your nose with every deep breath of air.

The deck felt odd against your bare feet, grating against your skin just enough to make you wary of splinters despite the apparent fine craftsmanship of the wood. You leaned into the ship rail and gazed down upon the rolling waters. A soft and steady kussshhh kussshhh greeted you, a gentle sea spray kissing your cheeks.

So far, the sea was far greater than you’d ever conceived. Freedom rippled in every gust of wind billowing in the sails; the waves sang songs of grandauer; the stars winked secrets you couldn’t hear but felt in the creak of your bones. The music of the world had finally included you in its symphony, and you would never go back.

Never.

You heard him before you saw him, his bumbling, careless steps thumping against the deck. Luffy came up out of the belly of the ship, gazed around once, and settled his sights on you. You met eyes and simply existed; he smiled first; you returned a grin. Luffy approached with all the familiarity he shouldn’t have given you in such a short time.

“You disappeared,” he said too loudly, threatening to break the perfect silence settled around you.

“I did,” you whispered back. After pursing your lips, you turned back to the sea and waited, assuming he would take the hint. It took two seconds longer than you anticipated, but Luffy’s shoulder soon bumped against your own.

When he spoke again, he was softer, “How do you feel?”

You sucked in a lunfull of cold air and laughed it out. “Free. I didn’t think I’d ever feel like that again.”

He nodded, because he wanted to say so many things but at the same time had no clue what to say at all. Luffy had never experienced this before, being at a loss for words; all evening he’d dwelled in this confusion that only grew every time you smiled and he lost his breath. What was so different about you that all his words felt terribly redundant?

“Wow.” He turned his head quickly, blinking at you. You were already looking right at him.

“Huh?”

You shook your head, shy smile dripping in tease. “You’re quiet. I didn’t take you as someone to just dwell like this.”

How many minutes had passed? Luffy wasn’t sure, but you looked content, so he didn’t really care. His eyes danced all over your face, puzzlement laid in his brow. You tilted your head and began to worry about the cloudy look on his face.

“Can I ask you something?” you said. Luffy gave a wordless nod, still looking so lost. You wanted to touch him, the realization setting in suddenly, hand itching to grip his arm. “Why did you help me? You didn’t have to.” Crossing your arms, you turned to watch the curling white foam ripple off the ship. “It certainly made things harder for you. They might tell the Navy, and I can imagine that’s plain hell.”

“They won’t catch us,” he scoffed, catching your eye. “And like I said, I like you.”

Your lips pursed before you let slip a chuckle, face far too warm for your liking. He probably didn’t know what he was saying. “Right. How could I forget. Is that all?”

“You’re… funny.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Real funny. Odd. Makes me feel funny.” He said it with such nonchalance you wondered if he was joking, but the longer you stood and stared at your feet the more aware you were of his presence at your side. Finally, you lifted your head, finding him staring out to sea. He was one to talk about being odd. You hardly understood what was so odd about you; you felt fairly normal if you said so yourself—but that wasn’t exactly the point.

Because Luffy was confused after all, just like he looked to be. The conflicted boy never strayed far from your shoulder, his hand brushing yours every few seconds. You hardly knew him—you didn’t know him—yet you couldn’t deny the overwhelming trust clawing its way into your heart.

So, really, there wasn’t much more debate on whether you should ask.

“Let me stay.” “Join my crew.”

The pair of you whipped your heads around suddenly. Eyes wide, you smiled, bursting into laughter with him, leaning into his side so he was half holding you up, your forehead hitting his chest—you missed hugs, sighing deeply as his warm hands brushed your skin and—

Cold rushed up your spine. You jerked away, an apology on your lips, when Luffy grunted and reeled you back in. You hit his chest with a thump as his arms wrapped around you three times. Eyes wide, body stiff, his deep breathing enveloped you till all you heard was in and out, in and out, that steady yet unsure rhythm.

“I’d like to join your crew,” you said after a while.

He focused on the space ahead of him, hold loosening bit by bit. “I’d like you to stay.”

You pulled away, and this time he let you. “Somehow, I feel I’m making a grave mistake.” He tilted his head all puppy-like, so you reveled in his puzzlement. Spinning out of his arms you faced the sea again. “You’ll most likely get me killed, Captain.”

Luffy blinked rapidly, heart thudding at the sly grin planted on your profile. Captain. He liked that. He always did, but now especially—when it came from you.

“I won’t let that happen,” he said with such casualty. He stepped into your line of sight. “You do want to stay, don’t you?”

As if you had a choice, you mused. Even if you didn’t, it wouldn’t change a thing in your eyes. You smiled softly at him, a spark of wild excitement in your eyes. “More than anything.”

It started small, only a grin until it grew too wide to remain shut, his teeth shining seconds later. His eyes squinted, head thrown back, and you swore his laugh echoed to the very depths of the sea, encircling your whole being.

He fascinated you, filling you with this sense of freedom you’d never known before. Luffy was larger than life, and you stood there to witness his existence. Somehow, even then, you understood the gravity of who he would become.

What an odd pair the two of you made. Him so unrestrained and you so proper—though surely the longer you spent with him the less true that became. Neither of you really cared either way; you found the other wildly fascinating, and in that moment on the deck as he blinded you with his smile, that’s really all that mattered.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @100520s @kryscent

#one piece x reader #monkey d luffy x reader #luffy x reader #luffy x you #luffy x y/n #monkey d luffy x you #monkey d luffy x y/n #one piece drabble #one piece fanfiction

701 notes · View notes

cherienymphe · 1 year ago

Text

Escapism

Topper Thornton x Reader

Summary: Your brother always stayed up with you whenever you couldn’t sleep and nothing has changed now that his best friend is the reason for your late nights.

warnings: Dub-Con, stepcest, cheating, toxic relationship, semi-public sex, jealousy, secret relationship, side of Rafe x reader, lots of playing in Rafe's face, kook!reader, non canon ages

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

⭑

You were a shitty girlfriend.

Perhaps, in some ways, you were being too harsh on yourself because it wasn’t like Rafe would ever win boyfriend of the year. The blond came with a plethora of issues that could only be fixed with therapy—something you probably wouldn’t even be able to pay him to do—and he chose to handle every single one with one horrible coping mechanism after the next. When it was all said and done though, you really only had yourself to blame.

It wasn’t like you were a stranger to the man before you started dating him.

You knew Rafe well—you’d grown up with him—so was it really his fault that you chose to ignore every single thing you knew about him in the hopes that he would mature and change? Was it his fault that you forgave him time and time again with the hopes that he could still change? Was he the asshole for being him or were you the asshole for going into this with the expectation he’d be something he wasn’t?

“Come on,” Topper would say to you in the dead of night. “You and I both know what he’s like—what he’s always been like.”

It was usually after he’d listen to you cry over Rafe and whatever girl he’d kissed or whatever awful thing he’d said to you, pupils blown and alcohol on his breath. He’d pull you to sit back, hands rubbing over your arms in an attempt to calm you down. It was always well into the night when you both should’ve been asleep, but per your routine as of late, you’d be waiting up for Rafe to call or text or walk through the door.

Anything to let you know he wasn’t passed out drunk in a ditch somewhere.

“Rafe can take care of himself just fine.”

Or some variation of that would reach your ears, and you’d press your hands to your face in exhaustion. You’d never miss the bitterness—borderline malice—in Topper’s voice as he said something like that. You knew it wasn’t directed at you, but more so your relationship with the other blond as a whole and his frustration with it. Topper never wanted you to date Rafe, and you knew he took no pleasure in watching Rafe prove him right.

Rafe may have been his best friend…

…but you were ten and Topper was twelve when his mother married your father. He’d been protective of you since day one, having been an only child before that, and you knew that he hated having to let you make your own choices and mistakes with the guy you’d both once called a friend. If you and Rafe came out of this relationship intact, you doubted you’d ever call him ‘friend’ again.

He’d hurt you too much for that.

You weren’t a bad girlfriend for thinking such thoughts. Nor were you a bad girlfriend for trying to break up with him on several occasions, something Rafe would always talk you out of with promises of remorse and change. You didn’t even think you were a bad girlfriend for venting about your frustration and hurt to his best friend—your stepbrother.

You were a shitty girlfriend for allowing something to continue that should’ve ended years ago.

Fed up with talking about Rafe and how badly he’d hurt your feelings earlier in the day, Topper had pressed his lips to yours, effectively shutting you up with a kiss. A kiss that you returned, shoulders sagging and a weight lifting off of your chest as his arms circled around your waist. Rafe had called you a nag hours before, subsequently telling you he wouldn’t be staying over before hanging up without another word.

It had hurt you, but you were sure Topper was just relieved to have you all to himself.

Or at the very least, wouldn’t be tempted to fuck you anyway—Rafe under the same roof be damned.

You both were quiet in the dark living room—your parents asleep upstairs—and the longer you kissed him, the more you just wanted to forget about Rafe. The t-shirt you wore was bunching up under the blonde’s hands, and you gasped when his mouth trailed down to your neck. You could feel how much he wanted you, and any other night you would’ve loved to drag this out, but much like Topper…

You just wanted to feel him inside of you.

You never wore any underwear to bed, both for convenience and just because. It was something Topper had come to appreciate, and when you helped him pull his shorts down, cock springing free, you couldn’t slide down the couch fast enough. He hooked one hand under your thigh, helping you and dragging you closer, the other squeezing his cock with long strokes.

He rubbed the tip of himself against you a few times, coating the head in your essence, unsurprised at how wet and ready for him you already were. The feel made you bite the inside of your cheek, lifting your hips in an attempt to get him to sink into you even if just a little. You didn’t miss the soft chuckle that rang through the air.

“I’m sorry,” he huskily told you, pushing into you with one slow thrust. “Is that better?”

You hated his mocking tone, but not as much as you loved the feel of him stretching you out. You clawed at him, pulling him closer, sighing into his mouth when he finally kissed you again. The movements of his hips were slow, too afraid to do too much and make too much noise. The pace was enough to make your head spin and was definitely enough to make you squirm beneath him. When you started lifting your hips to meet him halfway, he groaned into the kiss.

Rafe was the furthest thing from your mind.

Sliding your hands up Topper’s frame, you threaded your fingers through his hair, nails lightly dragging along his scalp. By the way he shuddered against you, you knew that he liked that. Every snap of his hips into yours had you swallowing down every noise that threatened to escape. His cock stroked your walls in a way that made you squeeze your eyes shut.

Shifting, you felt his hand slide down to rest on the inside of your thigh, pushing it and spreading it until your leg hung off of the couch. At that, you did gasp, a choaked sound escaping your lips before you snapped them shut. His free hand was beside your head now, forearm resting on the couch cushion. You both were quiet, but your soft labored breathing could still be heard if you listened hard enough.

When you softly moaned his name, he shushed you.

“I want…” you fought to catch your breath enough to speak. “I want you to come inside of me.”

You felt another shiver travel up his spine, head falling into the crook of your neck at that. You knew he wasn’t close, but you felt like making that known. It wasn’t something you both made a habit of, but you loved the feel of Topper spilling into you, cock twitching as he coated your walls in his release. When you pushed against his hand, he got the hint, and you circled his waist with your legs, ankles hooking at the small of his back.

Topper took his time fucking you.

He often did, feeling no need to rush or no fear that you’d get caught. You didn’t know if he was just that confident in how quickly you could pull yourselves together or that it simply wouldn’t happen. Some part of you wondered if maybe he just didn’t care. You knew that couldn’t be true for several reasons, the most pressing being your boyfriend.

It was funny.

Rafe had probably cheated on you more times than you actually knew of, but the minute some other guy looked at you for even just a second too long, he was gearing up for a fight. You didn’t know if he was performative or just that skilled at compartmentalization, but you hated it. What good did it do for him to act so noble and possessive when way too many people knew how much he’d embarrassed you over the past six months?

You didn’t doubt that he’d try to kill Topper in some coked out rage if he ever knew.

Topper’s hand was cupping your breast under your shirt as he pressed kisses to your neck and jaw. He was whispering in your ear, telling you how good you felt and how wet you were, and how much he wanted to feel you coming around him. He knew what to say to send you over the edge, and at the first sound, he covered your mouth in another kiss to swallow your moans.

You squeezed him tight, walls clenching as he fucked you through your climax, cock plunging into your soaking cunt as he chased his own. His thrusts grew sloppy, and they weren’t as languid, and his blond strands kissed your forehead as they grew messy and awkward with sweat. Your legs had long fallen around him, and you pressed your hand against his lower back.

When he came, he buried his face into where your neck and shoulder met, groaning into the skin. You shuddered at the feel of him spilling into you, still clenching around him as remnants of your orgasm finally started to dissipate. His breathing was heavy against your skin before pulling back just enough to touch his forehead to yours.

You could only hear your efforts to catch your breath.

“I love you. You know that, right?”

You nodded, positive he could feel the action against his forehead. You fingered the top of his shorts, and you bit your lip. You didn’t say it back often—something you still had trouble accepting and admitting—but you told him enough so that he’d never doubt it.

“Can I stay in your room tonight?” you quietly asked him. “Rafe probably won’t come over until after noon…if he comes over, at all.”

You tried not to let your voice shrink at the thought, but Topper caught it anyway. Pulling out of you and sitting up, he grabbed your arm and pulled you with him. Righting himself, he pulled you to your feet, his other hand pushing his hair away from his face.

“You know you never have to ask,” he told you.

His hands were comfortably on your waist as he followed behind you, guiding you upstairs.

“What…? You got a problem or something?”

You knew it was coming when you were the only one who wasn’t laughing, unamused as he recounted his tale of how he’d cornered Pope. You’d never known the other guy to get into any trouble or bother anyone, and while you knew there would never be anything you could do about whatever petty rivalry your brother and your boyfriend and their friends involved themselves in, Pope just seemed like low hanging fruit.

He wasn’t even the type to fight back.

“I just don’t find it funny,” was all you said, squinting under the harsh rays of the sun. “You know Pope’s not even like that. I might’ve laughed if it were JJ or…I don’t know…someone who would actually put up a fight.”

Rafe’s entire demeanor clouded over at that, and you were prepared for whatever was about to come out of his mouth when Topper spoke.

“Rafe,” the other blond warned. “Chill.”

He seemed to anticipate Rafe’s ire just as much as you did, and Rafe paused, glancing at his best friend before huffing. He leaned back in his chair, eyeing you with that cold blue gaze of his. The sun shone off of his dirty blond strands, the tresses curtained along his forehead, and you watched him bring his hand up to rest against his lips before finally settling on a better response than what you both knew you almost got.

“So, what are you trying to say?”

Choosing to end this fight before it even began, you sighed, looking away.

“I’m not saying anything, Rafe. You can do whatever you want,” you murmured. “You always do.”

He heard that loud and clear, and the laugh he let out wasn’t humorous in the slightest. You heard him roughly get up from his seat, chair scraping against the wooden floor. You watched him snatch his glass off the table, mumbling something about needing a refill but not before making a comment to Topper that was solely intended for you.

“Get your sister, Top,” your boyfriend drawled, making you cross your arms over your chest.

You could feel the man in question’s eyes on you, and you avoided his gaze.

“Sometimes I swear you like fighting with him just as much as he does you.”

At that, you scoffed, looking at him in disbelief.

“I didn’t laugh because he beat up Pope Heyward…and that was apparently a problem,” you pointed out to which Topper merely shrugged, unable to disagree. “I apologize for not finding it funny.”

“Babe,” he softly said, reaching out and touching your arm. “He’s a Pogue, and you know how Rafe is.”

His excuse for Rafe’s behavior only made you roll your eyes, and you heard him sigh as you reached for your stuff. He said your name, trying to get you to sit back down, but you were only more determined to leave once you caught sight of Kelce walking up the steps to the restaurant too. Dealing with all three of them at once was enough to give you a coronary.

“Where are you going?”

You didn’t answer Rafe as you passed him on his way back to the table, ignoring Kelce too when he said hey to you. You hated to take it out on him when he didn’t actually do anything this time, but you knew his mindset was just as bad as Rafe’s, and so you figured it was preemptively deserved. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that Rafe was going to talk shit about you the second you were out of sight.

It was one of those days where you really felt emboldened to finally break up with him for good. Rafe hadn’t been good to you nor right for you since the beginning, and you knew that if Topper was a lesser person, he would’ve said ‘I told you so’ a million times by now. You were grateful that he didn’t make you feel worse for being naïve enough to ever believe in Rafe Cameron.

Although, some part of you wondered if having you crawl into his bed night after night was satisfaction enough.

It was hours later when he was softly apologizing for both his and Rafe’s behavior, fingers digging into your waist as you pushed yourself down onto him. Rafe had long fallen asleep, his light snores easing your worry as you’d snuck out of your room. Topper was awake—as you’d hoped—and it was true that you’d only intended to talk. Rafe’s attitude hadn’t been much better when you finally reunited again, something you were sure Topper had overheard.

“You really want to talk about Rafe, right now?” he’d whispered, hand sliding along your thigh.

“Topper,” you’d quietly hissed in warning. “Not…tonight. He’s…”

You didn’t need to finish that sentence, feeling no need to as you gestured towards his door. The blond had fixed you with a look that made your stomach flip, a hint of a smirk dancing along his pink lips as he held your gaze.

“That’s never stopped us before.”

You’d swallowed at that, feeling unsure, but that was a feeling that had never stopped the other man before either. The first time he’d ever kissed you, you’d felt unsure, but Topper hadn’t cared, holding you to him and fingering you on the back deck while his mother threw some grand party downstairs. You still remembered the way you came around his fingers, an admission of insecurities somehow leading to your first ever sexual experience—and with your own stepbrother no less.

“Topper,” you’d quietly warned when he brushed his lips against yours. “Rafe…”

“Do…not…talk about him, right now,” he’d slowly said, fingers grazing along your folds just as slow.

Despite your hand against his shoulder, he’d laid you down, lips finding the skin just under your jaw.

“He’s the last thing I want to talk about, right now.”

…and he’d meant it, curving his fingers into you while pressing open mouthed kisses to your jaw and throat and collarbone. Any protest you had was swallowed down and quickly forgotten at the slick feeling between your legs, Topper’s fingers sinking into your cunt with ease. Your own twisted into the fabric of his shirt, hips lifted towards his hand, fighting to swallow down a whimper each time his thumb circled your clit.

“Fuck,” he’d cursed into your skin. “I love how wet you get for me.”

It wasn’t long after that that he was hurrying to get inside of you, shirts and shorts discarded as he pulled you on top of him. When you sank down onto him, he’d sighed, throwing his head back and lifting his hips. With your hands on his stomach, you’d lifted yourself until the tip of his cock just barely remained inside of you before sliding back down.

You gently bounced on top of him, hyper aware of who was just in the other room. You could tell that Topper wasn’t a huge fan, feeling that you had to pick one between being on top and being gentle, but it couldn’t be both. When his hands slid up your frame, they rested on the sides of your neck before pulling you down. Your eyes fell closed when you kissed him, and you gasped into his mouth when he lifted his hips, driving himself up into you.

You mentally cursed, realizing you’d been tricked.

With his hands quickly sliding down to snake around your waist, Topper wasted no time in lifting his hips to push his cock up into you. The force of his thrusts had you squeezing him in more ways than one, lips parted and eyes tight as he roughly fucked himself up into you. His bed shook under his movements, and you couldn’t stop yourself from whining into his mouth, the sound of him sinking into you reaching your ears.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he hummed, one hand coming up to rest on your cheek.

When his bed knocked into the wall, he halted his movements, using the moment to both catch his breath and listen. Your own heart stuttered, digging your nails into his chest because you’d literally told Topper so. Once Rafe was knocked out, it was usually pretty hard to wake him up, but it would be just your luck that this night of all nights he’d be a light sleeper.

You really didn’t want to imagine the chaos if he left your room in search of you only to find his best friend balls deep inside of you.

When no worrying sounds reached your ears, Topper took that as a sign to continue, knees bent as he thrust up into you again. You could tell he was close by the way his cock twitched inside of you, and something nagged in the back of your mind about that. When you attempted to pull yourself off of him, he held you tighter.

“Topper,” you gasped, a warning in your tone. “Don’t-.”

Your words were abruptly swallowed when he rolled you both, pinning you beneath him and jerking his hips into yours. The rough and fast pace had you momentarily forgetting your train of thought, weakly pushing against his stomach. You both knew why you didn’t want him to finish inside of you, but he didn’t seem to care about Rafe possibly sinking into you in the early hours of the morning with his best friend’s cum dried along your folds.

You yelped when you came, a roaring sound in your ears as you felt him do the same, filling you up with a grunt. His hips didn’t stop snapping against yours the entire time, fucking you through it and fucking his cum into you. He had you completely caged beneath him, and all you could do was quietly milk his cock, toes curling as you scratched at his back.

When clarity finally hit, the fog lifting, you roughly pushed him away. You didn’t miss his quiet chuckle, and you didn’t spare him a glance as you reached for your oversized t-shirt—his t-shirt.

“You’re such an asshole,” you mumbled, pulling it over your head and slapping his hand away when he reached down to slide his fingers between your sticky folds.

You didn’t spare Topper another glance before hurrying out of his room.

You kept your eyes on Rafe as he flew down the road, the loud music making his truck almost vibrate. He was ignoring you, preoccupied with his conversation with Kelce who was in the passenger seat. It was funny because the only one with a right to be mad was you, recalling the fight you’d had on the beach not even an hour ago.

“She was all over you, and you just stood there and let it happen,” you’d yelled at him, feeling humiliated for the umpteenth time.

“I barely remember what that girl even looks like,” was his reply, pupils blown. “It was nothing, baby.”

You had slapped his hand away when he reached for you, unmoved by the way his countenance darkened. The sounds of the party just down the beach only served to remind you how you felt when you walked up on him with his hand on some girl’s waist, her lips trailing kisses along his neck. You could tell she was drunk, and instead of pushing her away, Rafe just entertained it.

Your eyes had only met for half a second before you were turning away.

You didn’t even know why he chased you down the beach, and that was what you’d told him.

“You’re not sorry…you don’t feel bad, and you know what? You’ll probably do worse two weeks from now, so why are you even here?”

You’d shrugged at him, certain your confusion was evident on your face.

“Look, it was nothing,” he’d spat at you. “Once again, you’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

That had actually made you laugh, tears kissing your eyes.

“If you caught me cozying up to any guy with half the effort that she was with you…you would lose your shit, and you know it,” you’d sneered, watching his jaw tick. “I would love to see the look on your face if I fucked someone else.”

He’d gotten in your face, his finger almost touching your eye.

“I was barely touching her-.”

“That wasn’t the case three months ago,” you threw in his face. “…and I can only imagine what I don’t know about.”

Rafe’s nostrils had flared, and for a split second, you swore you saw some shame pass through his blue gaze. It was gone just as quickly as it came though, anger replacing it instead.

“You wouldn’t dare, you wouldn’t fucking dare,” he bit out, invading your personal space. “I said I was sorry, and you said you forgave me, so don’t think you can use that as an excuse to go fuck some asshole who clearly doesn’t value his life.”

His words had only made you angrier, and you had to bite your tongue to keep your face even, recalling the feel of Topper’s cock inside of you just thirty minutes before Rafe came to pick you both up. You and your boyfriend had stared each other down for a few moments more before he spoke again.

“I’d love to see you do that,” he finally said, shrugging. “I would love to see you try when you can’t even stick to staying broken up with me.”

His words had the desired effect, and you’d felt your face fall.

“Now, you’re trying to convince me you’d ever have the nerve to cheat on me?” he’d wondered, fingers grazing his own chest. “Don’t make me laugh.”

He’d left you with a scoff, and you hadn’t been able to stop your tears from spilling over. All you’d ever tried to do was routinely look for and believe in the best in Rafe, and you couldn’t believe that he threw that in your face like some insult. Maybe it was an insult though…because how many times were you going to let him show you exactly who he was? How many times were you going to let him play in your face?

The day after you’d confronted him about sleeping with some girl—only privy to the information because of none other than Topper—you’d cried yourself to sleep. It was always little things before that, but that incident was what broke you, allowing Topper to slip into your room and wrap his arms around you. It was reminiscent of a time where he used to sneak into your room almost every night, your parents none the wiser to what went on underneath their roof. You’d been eighteen then, Topper twenty, and you both mutually agreed to putting a stop to it.

However, that night, his mind had clearly gone to the same place yours had.

When he kissed you, you’d pulled him closer, and two years after you ended your forbidden dalliance, you resumed it again. For a few hours, you’d forgotten all about Rafe and what he did and just basked in the feel of Topper pushing his cock into you, embarrassingly turned on because of how much you’d missed him. You hadn’t paid any mind to the countless phone calls and texts that were blowing up your phone, no one else but Rafe and his vain attempts to fix what he did.

The day you forgave him, you knew you were making a huge mistake.

Rafe throwing the grace you’d shown him in your face had you stomping to his truck. You’d ignored the feel of eyes on you, knowing it wasn’t Rafe, opting to slide in the backseat without acknowledging him. Kelce—ever the standup guy—just pretended not to notice the tension between you and his friend as he slid into the passenger seat. The moment Rafe’s truck was on the road—music blaring through the vehicle—you’d grabbed Topper’s hand.

He didn’t protest at all when you dragged it across your thigh, pushing his fingers between your legs.

…and that was how you found yourself watching Rafe, keeping your eyes on him not because you actually wanted to, but because you didn’t need him looking over his shoulder. Even if he did, it was dark, but still, you weren’t exactly emotionless as Topper slid his fingers in and out of you. Your lips were parted, and your chest was heaving, and even though all that could really be heard was whatever rap song Rafe put on, you were still pulling your lip between your teeth.

You reached out to grip the door handle when Topper added another finger, his hand soaked in you, and you reached down to place your own hand on top of his. You spread your legs a little more, and you couldn’t stop yourself from lifting your hips a bit. You were thankful for the music, certain that if the truck were quieter, they’d be able to hear the wet sounds of his fingers pushing between your folds.

He pulled them in and out of you for the duration of the ride, just slowly stroking you and teasing you. Every time you started to tighten around his fingers, he’d stop, just letting them sit there long enough for you to come down from a high that quite never happened. Like clockwork, he’d start moving his fingers again, and he only fully pulled them out of you—underwear snapping back into place—when Rafe pulled into his driveway.

He'd sucked them clean by the time Rafe and Kelce opened their doors, and when your boyfriend saw that neither of you were moving, he paused. You crossed your arms over your chest when he glanced at you, throwing him a frown.

“I need to talk to Y/N for a minute,” Topper told him, and Rafe only scoffed.

“Please do,” he mockingly said, tone full of arrogance as he wrongly assumed what the conversation would be about. “…because I didn’t do shit, and I’m tired of your sister blowing things out of proportion.”

That last part was aimed at you, and you only coolly met your boyfriend’s gaze before he slammed the door shut.

“He’s such an asshole,” you mumbled, staring at his back as he walked away. “I’m breaking up with him. For good this time.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Topper’s tone was dripping with sarcasm, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Yeah, we both know how much you’ll hate having me all to yourself again.”

The words were barely out of your mouth before you turned towards him, reaching to slip your hand down his pants the moment Rafe was inside of his house. Wrapping your fingers around Topper’s cock, you slowly stroked him, uncaring as to how risky that was. You were just angrier than you ever were at the realization that Rafe didn’t appreciate how gracious you’d been, and how many other girls would’ve dumped him months ago for everything he’d pulled. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if Rafe respected you less for it.

That realization didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would…because you’d long stopped respecting him in return.

You moved to settle in Topper’s lap, facing away from him as he lifted his hips enough to only just pull his pants down. One hand was pulling at your panties, yanking them aside just in time for you to sink down onto his cock. You couldn’t stop yourself from moaning as he filled you up, throbbing inside of your heat. It was almost too easy, courtesy of his fingers and how wet he’d made you.

You lifted yourself slightly, moving over him and hanging onto the headrest of the driver’s seat while Topper lifted his hips too. His grunts and labored pants were a little loud, but that was only because you were alone. Rafe nor Kelce was going to hear anything from all the way out here in a closed vehicle. You clung to the seat harder as you thought about Rafe’s haughty tone and that challenging look in his blue eyes, so certain that you’d never do to him what he did to you.

So certain that you’d never have the guts.

Speaking of, it felt like you could feel Topper deep in your stomach as you rode him. His hands were tight on your waist as he bounced you on top of him, cheeks grazing his thighs with every movement. One of those hands slid around you, reaching under your dress and resting on you, fingers rubbing over your cunt.

“You’re doing so good, babe,” he whispered in the otherwise quiet truck. “Just like that.”

You knew that this couldn’t take long—and Topper knew it too—and feeling you come around him always sent him over the edge, so your eyes rolled when he started circling and dragging his fingers across your clit. He lightly pinched it, making you jerk, and the fact that you were fucking him in Rafe’s own backseat had you coming hard.

The broken moans that tumbled out of your mouth should have embarrassed you, but you were too concerned with sliding yourself up and down his cock, squeezing him tight and making him come too. Topper wrapped an arm around your neck, pulling you back against him as you came together. Knowing that you’d stayed out here long enough, he was gently pushing you off of him the second he started to soften.

You could feel him dripping out of you, and you hurried to put your underwear back in place.

“Did you talk some sense into her?” was the first thing Rafe greeted you with the moment you both made it back inside.

You ignored him, hearing the tone of Topper’s voice as he said Rafe’s name. You knew that it would just be another useless talk of him almost begging Rafe to do better. The older blond never listened to his friend though, and you knew it didn’t twist Topper up too much, always happy to make you feel better when your boyfriend fucked up.

He took advantage of it every time.

Like now, for example.

Your hands clung to the railing of the back porch, head bowed as Topper drove into you from behind. Rafe was asleep in his own room—Kelce asleep in a guest room—and you couldn’t help yourself. You needed him again, sneaking into his designated guest room and begging him to fuck you. He was never one to protest, pressing his lips to yours and pulling you against him while murmuring something along the lines of ‘not in here’.

There were too many people in the Cameron household for him to touch you on the same floor as everyone else.

You kept pushing yourself to your tippy toes, thighs squeezing together with every slow stroke of his cock. Rafe’s t-shirt was pushed up your back, and the light slap of skin against skin reached your ears as well as the wet sound every time he slid between your folds. When he leaned over you, chest pressed to your back, one arm curled around your waist.

“You love this,” he murmured, nipping at your ear. “You love fucking me right under his nose…especially when he really pisses you off.”

If you’d tried to deny it, the way you tightened around him would’ve exposed the truth anyway. You did. Rafe underestimated you, and you loved proving him wrong, especially with his best friend of all people. You moaned, pushing back against him at that. Topper only chuckled, twisting a hand at your roots and pushing you back down over the railing again.

After coming around him twice, the insides of your thighs were embarrassingly sticky, and when Topper eventually stilled against you, pumping you full of his cum, that only made your predicament worse. When he pulled out of you, you reached down to wipe away some of the mess, fighting to catch your breath and reminding yourself that you’d have to make a stop to the bathroom before rejoining Rafe.

Topper was silent the entire ride home, and unlike with Rafe, you had no one but yourself to blame in this situation. Whenever you happened to glance over, you’d catch sight of his clenched jaw, cold blue eyes—so much like Rafe’s—focused on the road. His knuckles were white from the strain of his skin pulled taut over them, a death grip on the wheel of his jeep.

You didn’t speak because there wasn’t much you could say.

So fed up with Rafe’s blatant disrespect—and the pitying looks the odd girl threw you at the party as he danced with some stranger—you hadn’t thought of who else you’d be hurting when you grabbed the nearest guy and pressed your lips to his. You were so far gone with the alcohol, and the satisfaction you’d felt only drove you to close your eyes at the feel of his lips moving against yours.

It had also caused you to momentarily forget about your boyfriend, a misstep that was quickly remedied when you found yourself covered in alcohol.

Several of his friends—Kelce included—had been struggling to hold Rafe back as he tried to make his way to you. His angry shouts could be heard over the music, and you suspected that the bloodthirsty glint in his blue eyes was what drove your poor unsuspecting victim to slip away. Watching him get further out of reach only drove Rafe crazy…until his angry gaze landed on you, as if just remembering your presence.

He was screaming at you, calling you every name in the book, and you’d taken a step back as his friends struggled to keep him from getting to you. Only one stood off to the side, and when you remembered Topper’s presence, you hadn’t been able to keep the sheepish look off of your face. Adopting the older brother role, he’d quickly stomped towards you, yanking your arm as he pulled you along and away from your enraged boyfriend.

“I think its time you call it a night,” he’d evenly said.

That was the last thing he’d said to you, holding you as you stumbled to his car.

When his phone rang again, cutting through the silence in the vehicle, he finally answered it.

“Rafe, she’s drunk,” Topper told him the minute he picked it up. “…and you can’t act like you didn’t have this coming a little.”

You shifted in your seat, thinking to yourself that you’d gotten back at Rafe many times over. You didn’t hear what your boyfriend—possibly ex-boyfriend—said on the other line, but it was loud, and you could pick up on his tone. Topper chuckled to himself, and if you hadn’t been looking at his face, you might’ve thought it was genuine. His frustration with both Rafe and you—mostly you at the moment—was all over his face.

“There’s a whole list of shit you’ve done while drunk or high. You can talk to her tomorrow,” he told his best friend, meeting your gaze. “I’m handling it, so if you come over, I’m telling you now I’m not answering the door.”

You looked out the window at that, swallowing at the venom in both his voice and his gaze.

Your parents weren’t home, out of town for the weekend, and you were never more grateful, certain you’d never been this drunk in your life. Topper was still ignoring you as he helped you inside, and when you stumbled away from him, leaning against the table by the entrance, you gave him an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

Before you could do it, he was dropping to his knees, angrily taking off your shoes. You flinched at the way he threw them across the room, slowly rising and staring you down. The house was quiet—too quiet for comfort—and you licked your lips.

“Topper-.”

“It’s already bad enough seeing you kiss him and be with him and fuck him,” he spat at you, pointing outside. “Even worse when he treats you like shit, and you just won’t leave.”

You frowned at him, tears kissing your eyes.

“I’m…sorry for just hoping he’ll do better…”

“He won’t!”

Topper’s voice bounced off of the walls, and you shrunk away from him as he got in your face.

“How many times does he have to show you that? Why do you still expect better from him, so much so to the point where you’re kissing random guys, now?” he wondered, rearing back away from you with a frown. “Yeah, you wanted to make Rafe angry, but we both know the truth.”

You looked away, pressing your lips together when Topper stepped closer. You could feel his breath on your cheek as he exhaled through his nose, the atmosphere tense.

“Rafe’s mad because you dared to play his own game,” he slowly whispered. “I love you, and we both know it’s me you’re really with, not him, and I’m fucking pissed.”

You swallowed with one look into his eyes, finally finding the strength to face him, and your heart skipped a beat at what you saw there.

Before you could say another word, his lips were on yours, fingers digging into your arms. The sequence of events happened too fast for your drunk brain to catch up with, only gasping when he reached down to press his hand into the small of your back, yanking you closer. If it wasn’t for him holding you, you would’ve tripped over your own feet as he forced you into the living room.

Topper’s teeth nipped at your throat while he pulled at your dress, something Rafe had bought.

“I fucking hate this dress,” he quietly confessed as if reading your mind.

The sound of tearing fabric reached your ears as he forced you to bend back, his arm around you keeping you from collapsing. He kept you against him as he laid you down on the floor, in a hurry to get you at least half naked. His other hand reached behind his head to yank off his shirt, and you only had the sense to hold onto his arms while he kissed along your chest. When his pants were pushed down just enough, he pushed into you with a grunt.

You scratched at his skin at the rough entry, but it took no time for each thrust to become as smooth as they always were whenever he got his hands on you. One of your hands clawed at the rug, and you moaned—loud—when he gripped the hair at the nape of your neck. You suspected that Top had done a line or two tonight, gasping at his uncharacteristically tight grip.

He was fucking you so good that you almost missed the sound of a vehicle in the yard. When you did, your eyes flew open, and you attempted to look around towards the window. You guys were too close to the couch to see over it, and when you whined, pushing against him, Topper only grabbed your hands and pinned them down beside your head.

“Topper, I think…”

You couldn’t get it out, groaning as he curved his hips against yours.

“Fuck him,” he breathed, pounding into you.

The harsh knocks on the door didn’t faze him, and Topper only let one of your hands go to reach down and reach under your thigh. He rested that leg over his shoulder, pushing it towards you as his nose brushed yours, lips parted as he thrust into you. You were dripping around him, teeth sinking into your lip as Rafe knocked on the door again, trying the locked handle. Somewhere, you could hear your phone vibrating…and then Topper’s after a while.

The man on top of you didn’t care, stretching you out, pushing his cock into your tight hole.

“Break up with him, or don’t,” he whispered to you, pressing a kiss to your lips and then your nose. “…but what you pulled tonight is not happening again.”

You drunkenly nodded at him, mewling as he slowed down his thrusts, the sucking sound of his cock plunging into you reaching your ears. You heard your phone vibrate again.

“You know where to find me when he pisses you off.”

#topper thornton #topper thornton x reader #topper thornton imagine #topper thornton smut #topper thornton fanfiction #obx #outer banks #obx fic #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron

2K notes · View notes

galedekarios · 1 year ago

Text

just musing about gale and his parents:

we only have a handful of conversations where he mentions his parents and when he does, it's usually only his mother, morena dekarios.

his mother is mentioned at several points in the game. during a custom protag playthrough, he mentions her in a datamined conversation that appears to be bugged/broken:

and he mentions her at the end of the game as well when he proposes to the player:

i was also able to find another mention in a banter with karlach that usually happens for me shortly after recruiting her:

from gale's origin, this aspect is explored even more deeply:

there's more, of course, and it very clearly shows that the bond he shares with his mother is a deep and loving one from both sides. it's also very interesting that he is called dekarios after his mother and not--even though naming conventions could certainly vary even in waterdeep--after his father.

who he doesn't mention at all.

the only time we do get a vague mention is during a conversation with the protag after saving mirkon from the harpies:

after that, i haven't been able to find any reference, indirect or direct, to gale's father in the game.

so, here we enter theory territory:

i feel that, from a narrative point of view, in keeping with what i think gale's themes are, gale's father may have abandoned gale and his mother when gale was still young.

gale's character is rife with what might be interpreted as abandonment issue and it makes sense to me at least that those weave through his life up until the point where the protag meets him in the game.

another theme with gale is that he appears to have a lot of female figures in this life, who all had a profound impact on him, whether that impact is positive or negative: morena, tara, and yes, mystra.

it feels like to me that he had no father figure--and i use that term a bit more loosely here--until later in his life with elminster. this is already hinted at in a game with a custom protag, but all the more solidified in a gale origin playthrough:

i think without directing telling you, the game does allow you to sort of guess at that part of his background in this way, and understand why gale is as he is as a consequence. you can also understand why he acts as he does with elminster. seeking his approval. yearning for it. being extremely hurt by elminster having to see him like this when mystra sends him to gale to deliver her... instructions. this almost pointed absence of a mention of his father in all his comments (and tara's too, now that i think about it) when it comes to family is glaring to me.

being left, being abandoned, makes it much more understandable to me why he doesn't speak of him at all: if gale's father had died, it would make more sense to me that he would remark on it or share it in some way or another. it might have come up in a banter with wyll, perhaps, who is struggling with the expectations his own father had placed on him.

"he died when i was still very young." perhaps, or something along the lines of, "i barely remember him; he died when i was only a child.", etc etc etc.

YET if gale's father indeed abandoned his mother--who he holds in such high regard, and not to mention his own hurt--i can easily see and understand why he wouldn't waste a word on him.

anyhow yes, this is long and ramble-y, and i 100% might be reading too much into what may be a simple oversight, but it was interesting to me and i still see it as tying in with the theme of abandonment, even though we don't know the reasons for it in this particular case.

was it not wishing to deal with a child with magical talents he couldn't control yet? was it for another reason entirely?

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 meta #ch: gale dekarios #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #meta: mybg3

1K notes · View notes

calamity-talvi · 2 months ago

Text

I'd like to take inspiration from a concept @theroundbartable wrote about Arthur being able to dress himself and loves cleaning etc.

So Arthur is able to dress himself contrary to how much faith Merlin may of his ability to do so. He prefered dressing himself as he just never felt comfortable having the servants doing it, they always put the clothes on wrong. A scratchy shirt here, a layering of clothes that led to bunching and pinching in places Arthur didn't like, trousers that were great for training in but terrible if you had to sit in meetings for several hours.

Meaning Arthur typically dressed himself. At least until Merlin came around, because Merlin just had this way with dressing Arthur that made him crave for something he never realised he was missing. Merlin dressed Arthur with a caring touch akin to a mother's. By that I mean Merlin would always adjust Arthur's clothes, not just to look good but that always was comfortable for Arthur something other servants neglected in favour of the clothes always looking their best.

The soft brushes of Merlin's hands soothed Arthur and he came to crave something that made him think "This must be what it's like to have a mother."

So Arthur doesn't tell Merlin that he can dress himself just fine, because Arthur longs for those touches by Merlin that seem to weave love, protection, care, pride and so on. To fully make Merlin believe that Arthur requires his aid in dressing all the time, Arthur has intentionally messed up getting dressed when Merlin has been late so that though Merlin may joke about it, Merlin will always dress Arthur.

This means that Arthur isn't inept at dressing but when Merlin sneaks out for missions, Arthur is really just craving Merlin's touch to feel ready to face his duties as Prince/King. Also any other servant causes sensory issues with the clothes they pick because they bunch in the wrong places, or are always scratchy etc.

Additionally I can imagine Arthur, King of *I-can't-express-my-emotions-well* having quite the difficult time in trying to explain to Merlin the day Merlin realises Arthur can dress himself without issue

#concepts #merlin bcc #merlin #arthur pendragon

290 notes · View notes

thrashkink-coven · 25 days ago

Text

I get the thing of wanting to be as harmless and uncontroversial as possible in your craft. I understand white witches trying their best not to encroach on closed practices or cultural appropriation. I understand wanting to cancel problematic occultists and generally push the witchy community away from its history with white supremacy and racism. I get it, I really do.

and I say this with love and try to come across as gently as possible.

Some of you, though your intentions may be pure, don’t seem to recognize the difference between genuine caution and concern and blatant white saviourtism. I promise you that people of color don’t need white witches to speak for them. I promise you that it is not your responsibility to be the saviour that enforces what is and isn’t problematic, especially when you yourself are so clueless about the issue at hand.

People who don’t know even the first thing about Judaism shouldn’t be trying to herd all of their white friends away from Lilith or dictate why you shouldn’t use magick with a k. It’s frustrating because the original message gets completely lost every single time.

Jew witches will say “hey guys maybe don’t work with Lilith if you don’t understand her origins because she’s not just a girl boss mother of demons but also has a lot of history in our culture as an extremely violent and chaotic energy that actively victimizes women and children”

But all that tumblr heard was “Lilith is associated with Judaism and that means she’s a religious figure and can’t be worked with by non-jews” without having even the slightest clue what her role in Judaism was and why people advise caution. Saying that Lilith is a religious figure to Judaism tells me that you’ve never even met a Jewish person in real life.

People will say “hey Crowley was actually a piece of shit and shouldn’t be idolized as a wise practitioner when he was literally just an extremely racist heroine addict who tricked a lot of women into having sex with him for rituals”

But all that tumblr hears is “Crowley bad. Anything associated with Crowley also bad. If you do anything that was associated with Crowley you are also bad.”

Indigenous witches will say “Hey white sage is an extremely sacred herb that is being heinously over harvested by corporations selling the witchcraft equivalent of fast fashion and it’s causing severe harm to indigenous businesses and communities, please stop supporting them”

but all that tumblr heard was “White sage shouldn’t be harvested. If you get white sage from anywhere, even indigenous people themselves, you are racist.”

and in retaliation to that super hard stance you have witches who have decided they don’t care about respecting closed practices in general and purposely buy from non indigenous sources out of spite

“I don’t know enough about this topic to have an intelligent stance on it” is ALSO a perfectly acceptable position. You don’t have to be opinionated about things you don’t understand. You’re more than welcome to just avoid the things you know would make you uncomfortable to participate in without pushing blatant misinformation.

Most occult spaces have some sort of historical tie to icky stuff like racism, misogyny, ablism, etc. You’re not a bad person for recognizing that and wanting to stay away from them. I’m happy you care.

But you are not an authority on things you’re uneducated about. When you pretend to be you only muddy the words of the people you’re supposed to be helping.

Saying shit like “using magick with a k is just as antisemitic as using a swastika” completely waters down what real antisemitism is, and makes the matter less serious than it actually is.

Saying “working with Lilith is just as antisemitic as working with the Tetragrammaton” is just a complete slap in the face to practicing jews, and you don’t know why because you don’t understand Judaism or the people who created it. You can’t understand it because you’re so busy talking over them that you never took the opportunity to listen.

Before you make the decision to run these mass cancelation events, take a second to consider if you’re doing this because it’s actually important and something you truly understand, or if you’re just doing so to feel morally pure and accepted by your fellow politically correct white peers.

#pagan #paganism #witchcraft #demonolatry #occultism #magick #witch community #witchblr #eclectic witch #pagan discourse #pagan witch

173 notes · View notes

lixies-favorite-cookie · 6 months ago

Text

Rewrite the ending

-Just once, let him rewrite the story; Just once, he promises you will never have to watch the same ending again.

Paring◦ felix x mommy issues!reader

Genre ◦ smut with pain

Warnings ◦ The reader is described as having mommy issues though the argument is very brief so it can connect with more people, angst, talk about knives, PIV sex, CONSENT, ngl this is just some passionate lovemaking, tears during sex, references to the princess bride the greatest love story of all time I will die on this hill,

Taglist ◦ @thetoastghost222, @ur-fav-lvr, @velvetmoonlght

A/N ◦ This is literally a story solely based on an experience I just had with my mother and needed something to comfort me while I have a mental breakdown 😃 also if you liked this man I have mommy issues I severely need reassurance 😭

can somebody please tell me if this is convoluted because I tried to make it poetic but I don't know if I just made it messy. THANK YOU.

Soundtrack ◦ Family Line by Conan Grey, Cover me by Stray Kids

~cookiecreates 🍪

The screen flickers off.

The velvet curtains close.

The world fades to black.

The End

Your ribs crack open, heavy sobs echoing through the gaps of your unfolded bones. Your hands make purchase around your shredded soul, the warm liquid of your sorrows trickling through your splayed fingers like the shadow's phantom finger tracing the lines of your melancholy, dusting over the hill of your cheeks.

One more time.

Just one more time.

You rewind the tape-

The velvet curtains stutter open.

The screen flashes white.

Just one more time.

How many times could you watch the same movie before you realized the ending would never change?

You rewind the tape-

How many times could you lick her love off the edge of a knife before you realize the blade will never dull?

You slide the tip across your tongue-

Just one more time.

Please.

Just pretend to love me one more time.

"For once, can you admit that you're wrong?" you snap, attempting to steady your rising voice.

You've been arguing with your mother for centuries, your breath grating across your throat like grains of sharpened sand. Talking to her was like bouncing wisdom off a wall; it will only ever come to bite you in the ass-

"I did what I had to do to teach you discipline; you were unruly-"

or punch you in the face.

"I was nine!" you shout, a weak and wounded cry. "Nine!"

How could she not see that?

"I did it because I loved you."

She rips your heart out of your chest, only to dust a gentle finger underneath the curve of your jaw; her sweet smile coaxes your lips open; she was your mother, and yet, with a wicked gaze, she draws her fingers together—you choke, a thick river of blood flows onto your tongue like a bitter stream of a thousand broken promises.

There was so much you wanted to say to her.

"Maybe you should reevaluate your definition of love."

"Maybe you should have just been a better daughter."

"Only she could spread sugar across your skin before feeding your soul to the ants."

The signal of an ended call rings through your ears as the world fades to black.

The velvet curtains close.

The screen flickers off.

The movie sputters to a stop.

The End

All you wanted to hear was I'm sorry.

All you have ever wanted to hear was I'm sorry.

You are far too entranced with the stillness of your spine to hear the door creak open, Felix’s hesitant footsteps carefully creep closer. It is only when he mumbles a soft, saturnine "sweetheart" that you finally feel something-

"How did it go?" Felix believed the strings of your souls were so intertwined, the two of you experienced emotions the way an instrument feels the thrum of a cord; but as your heart pumps with an intangible amount of anguish, maybe even for you, some feelings were simply too subjective to share.

It is only when your heart has been crushed by fingers made of feathers do you start caring a lot less about the hands made of knives.

How desperately he wishes he was a human with hinges, where he may unscrew his soul and allow your eyes to gaze upon his walls, with the knowledge that they were only ever painted with the thought of you.

He would not hurt you-

Please, collapse into him, just once-

Let him prove that you will never have to fall again-

Wordlessly, thoughtlessly, your hand chases his touch, a million different uncompleted sentences dissipating as soon as your skin connects; your fingers beg, hold me, even as your mouth shutters shut, dusty rivulets cascading across your cheeks like the desert's silky sand.

You were empty.

so, so, very empty-

Felix's soothing hands lock underneath the bend of your knees, pulling you into his warm embrace with a rush of unregistered movements.

You rewind the tape.

Just one more time.

You needed to be reminded of what it was like to not constantly live with the echo of a hollow soul.

Just one more time.

You needed to be reminded of what it was like to hear something other than a deafening crescendo of pure contempt.

Just one more time.

"Please," you have lived so much of your life caught in a perpetual state of emptiness, for once, you wanted to remember what your body was like before your mother bore you with the heavy burden of broken wings.

"Touch me," you shove the palm of his hand into your core, pleading with so much of your soul none left to protest. He gasps into your mouth, his face scrawled with worry, the etch of a million different fears drawn into the deep lines of his forehead.

Just once

Let him rewind the film

Just once

You will never have to watch the same ending again.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Though his words are unsure, his actions tell a different story; tender hands massage the length of your thighs, reluctantly begging you to open up, to unfold your deformed ribs, where he will fill your hollow bones with the type of love you have only ever yearned for.

Just once.

"I need you."

You need him more than you need your heart to beat, your lungs to breathe; you need him more than you need the birds, the bees, the ground, the trees—

He lays you upon the silken sheets with such soulful kindness that your glassy eyes almost break; his heart thrums with the promise of I love you and the vow of I'll make you fly. His hand dips into the band of your shorts, pleasure peeking out from the shadows of your mind, only ever bobbing its head long enough to fill your skin with a minute tingling sensation—like running your hands under hot water after a long day in the snow, but it was not enough.

"I need you," you gasp into his mouth, his throat desperately sucking the sound in. His eyes widen ever so slightly, his features stricken with a sudden tightness, a burdened tonnage; you were handing him your heart with the hope his hands weren't made of blades, and the idea of the utter trust you have put in him to do that makes his stomach flip.

Just once—

He will prove it all to you.

"As you wish," nostalgia flutters in your veins as you reminisce the sentence pulled straight from the greatest love story ever told. His nose nudges the column of your throat as he presses a peck on your flesh, drifting his arms down to unceremoniously pull off his pants.

Even with such a simple act, he makes the effort to remind you that he is here.

He takes his time removing your clothes, fingers sliding across your skin with a delicate intimacy, a tender reverence; his lips trace the lines of your seams until your very atoms are etched with his name.

I hate her

I love you

He coupled every leak of anger with a river of love, kissing your limbs until all your body could remember was the pureness of his ardor.

"Are you ready?" he whispers against your skin, lining himself with your entrance, all he needs is a word to finally sink himself in. Your eyes are glassy, gazing up at him with such an unadulterated passion, a pure amount of pain—this will tear you apart, and he promises with every fiber of his being, he will put you back together.

"Yes." You have lived most of your life with the heavy burden of a body’s broken wings, and it isn't until Felix’s crafted hands finally crease your ribs that you realize origami can only emerge when you fold it up, the way a bird can only fly when it falls.

You are an amalgamation; so much of your soul is lost in his lips you don't know where he begins and you end, but when a rush of pleasure tingles up your spine, you don't care.

The world is tangled somewhere on the edge of in-between space and time, melding together into a mushy, gushy substance that slips through your fingers as they lace in his raven locks. You pour all your pain into the slit of his lips, where he sucks in every drop, leaving no room for your protests.

You were both overcome with a flood of delicate feelings—the passion that surged with the twists of your heartbeats began to be too much to bear; as his hips ruthlessly rut into yours, you cry out, chasing the edge of a daydream. So close, so close, so—his lips taste like I love you and his tears like I'm here. You can only hear the crash of your soul shattering before his ginger fingers sew you back together.

The juxtaposition of that orgasm was astounding.

You both slam down into the earth at the same time, holding each other's tired bodies as the ground swallows you up.

His arms lock around your head, quivering as he struggles to hold himself up, droplets of tears land on your cheeks as they dip down the slope of his nose. He was so perfect-

so, so, very perfect.

Your mouth raises to kiss a tear clinging to the tip of his nose. He chokes, squeezing his eyes shut. You both are thrumming with tension, overflowing with emotion; before you can even blink, he is pulling you to his chest, naked and sticky, he holds you closer than you have ever been.

It is through the tears of others that we remember we are alive.

Just one more time.

Rewind the tape and let him kiss your shattering soul with the knowledge that has already rewritten the ending.

Just once-

Collapse into him.

Let him prove that this story really is—

The End

©CookieCreates (posted: August, 12th 2024) All rights reserved. Do not translate, copy, or claim my works as yours! I only post on this platform so if any of my works are elsewhere, report and notify me immediately.

~cookiecreates 🍪

284 notes · View notes

roxineedstosleep · 1 year ago

Note

Could you do a snippet for yandere platonic Batfam where reader accidentally gets hurt and is able to hide it for a few days until someone (May be Dick?) finds it and asks / gets upset about it? Love your writing!!! ♥️♥️♥️♥️

Hi there!!!

First of all: Thank you sweetie!

It's been a while since I've written, mostly because of the university, I'm about to graduate and I'm crazy because I'm approaching my final exams (I even have to defend my research work to be able to get my bachelor's degree)!

But, I got to thinking a bit about what you have written above… and even more so because I myself am a little bit crashed after my last film shoot for my final year of my degree. And can I just say that being in a bad way and having to hide it is terrible.

So… here goes!

(I'm sorry if I sound a bit comical in this writing, but I think the best way to get over something is to laugh at yourself a bit so you don't think about the pain too much; I hope you enjoy it anyway.)

Disclaimer: I don't know if you've noticed, but English is not my native/mother tongue. Occasionally, when I think too much, I write them in my language and then translate it in a trusted translator. So, if there's a grammatical problem or a strange term, it's the translator's fault.

Let's face it… having a large family is terribly exhausting.

It's never quiet enough, everyone is in everyone else's business, you can't leave your favorite mermelade in the fridge for less than a day. Someone is always occupying the bathroom or using your favorite shampoo or watching something on TV at too much volume and someone is probably occupying your bed at nap time.

Did I mention about meddling too much in other people's business? Yes? Well… triple it.

Having multiple siblings was new.

Having multiple siblings, a father and a butler/grandfather isn't exactly bread and butter either.

It wouldn't be so bad to belong to a large and numerous one if it was your blood family and you had lived with them all your life. I mean, sometimes blood is too thick and you have no choice but to learn to love them or just be nice to each other.

Like I said, it wouldn't be so bad if they were really your family.

But the Waynes were not your family. Not distant relatives or anything like that.

You were just living your life, as quietly as possible… and poof!

New room, new butler/grandfather, pets beyond belief, 4 new male siblings and a father with serious emotional constipation issues. And, to add more salt to your wound…. all have serious abandonment issues and death-related trauma.

After several escape attempts, sleep strikes, hunger strikes and any other kind of protest that an anarchist could be proud of… you realized that it was simply impossible to get out of this without risking the path of death.

Which, to top it all off, was also unreliable because apparently your older brother Jason had revived as well as another of your siblings. So no, dying was also not a viable option to which one could resort in the worst case scenario.

What to do?

Well, not much. Trying not to die of suffocation of affection or finding a way to have privacy while going to the bathroom just seemed to be the best survival tools you could resort to.

What does that entail?

It implies that Tim was going to give you hours and hours of lectures on his latest discovery of a case, even if you don't understand half the things he's told you or mentioned at all.

Richard and Damian trying to teach you new tricks almost every second, taking you to the Zoo or not leaving you alone to go to the bathroom.

That Jason, oh holy cow he is the only one more relaxed, takes you with him on his motorcycle to eat ice cream and to the public library. Without being able to scape, because it seems that you have a kind of GPS inserted in the bone marrow.

(Sometimes you don't know if it's true or not, but sometimes you also felt pain between your bones, almost during the cold seasons, and you didn't want to burst your poor little head thinking of different viable possibilities knowing them. No scars, no remembering anythins about any surgery).

Have a grandfather who will not hesitate to make you cookies, your favorite foods whenever you want … without leaving you aside at any time.

Plus a terribly quiet father, who if he can will carry you for as long as you spend time together, won't let you near the secret basement and enjoys being in the same room with you.

Do you see any privacy in this?

No, because even at the bathroom door would be the pets trying to get in and see you for themselves while you want to do your business.

The worst of that? Titus always judge you when you close the curtains.

As I mentioned and it was clear: Having a large family implies little privacy… Having a large, obsessive family means NO privacy.

So, knowing that you have over 50 nanochips tracking in all your clothes, two security monitors embedded - God knows how - in your body (monitors that only tell you if you are in designated safe place), 20 high definition surveillance cameras in every room and a Great Dane chasing you like a chick …. How the heck do you fall down the stairs and hit your pelvic bone without anyone noticing?

No kidding, how?

And if you had to blame someone for your fall… you'd totally blame Damian for it.

It's not that the kid pushed you down the stairs, but over time he had tamed himself into various things and relaxed into looking his age. You know!!! He started acting like a normal teenager!

What do Damian's kids do at his age? Well, they leave things lying around and have messing around them when they can, of course they do!

You just wanted some yogurt with orange marmalade. Maybe some oatmeal cookies. Alfred had left it for you in the fridge when he noticed you'd been watching video tutorials on homemade marmalade for hours. Who were you to deny such a gesture of generosity?

I mean, Alfred was the one who allowed you to hide in the attic for hours on end so you could have some time to yourself.

And how did it end? You, slipping down the main stairs of the old Wayne mansion, down a nicely polished wooden staircase, rolling all the way down (which is no small flight of stairs, it should be noted) to the bottom of the first floor.

Now, lying on the ground is not so bad in itself. What is bad is not being able to feel your legs and still not being able to understand how you manage to tidy up your neural wiring so that your legs can still move on their own and go to the kitchen to rescue all the delicacies Alfred left you in time.

And it's a good thing you managed to do it… because within seconds Bart had rushed in to ransack the fridge and the fruit basket.

But that's not the point.

The important thing is that this time you managed, I insist a little on the feat of action, to climb up to your room and not notice how you couldn't really feel your legs.

You ate, you lay down… and to your bad or good luck, you couldn't get up …. and without anyone noticing there was an emergency and everyone went out to sort it out.

Weak limbs, limited movement and you don't want to mention the embarrassing actions you did in order to go to the toilet.

It's not like you hid it either, I mean, there was no one who could even notice because they weren't entirely available to watch you. Nor is it that you would have run away, otherwise they would have been at your side in less than a second.

The detail, as they insist, is that you had probably bruised your back badly and your body was now taxing you extra for your food craving.

I insist, you did not hide anything.

But still, when you're found completely itchy on the floor, ridiculously trying to run away in the direction of the bathroom… that's when everyone really goes crazy.

First, having to carry you and not dying of embarrassment when you notice that Bruce definitely doesn't give a damn about having to carry you to the bathroom and do almost everything for you.

Or having Dick and Jason carry you and fit you into some kind of weird medical scanner they have in the cave.

Or that Tim keeps track of your periods, types of meds you take and, for fuck's sake, knows how the fuck to inject something into your spine.

Or that Damian had the gall to look a little embarrassed when he heard that a pair of boxers lying outside the laundry basket was to blame for all this.

NO matter.

At the end of the day they heal you, pamper you, leave you alone when you need to take a nap and figure out a way to fix it without looking like complete maniacs who built some kind of internal plumbing that sucks up the dirty laundry and throws it straight into the washing machine.

Like the time they didn't look like maniacs by sanding all the edges of the tables and nightstands.

Or the time they bought a whole brand of sanitary towels when they realised that not all women use tampons.

Don't worry, they're looking out for you… even if they look like deranged Arkhan freaks in the process.

947 notes · View notes

klaus-littlestwolf · 3 months ago

Text

All the Time in the World-Sub!Aemond x Vampire

Warning:Vampires in this story-which means a heavy description of blood and death before turning into one. If you are uncomfortable with depictions of a bloody murder scene or someone choking on blood this story is not for you. This is also a Sub!Aemond in case that wasn’t clear, how could he have grown up with such a strong, sweet vampire women and not fallen in love with her?

There will also be mentions of SA and Aemond’s first experience in the brothel and how his mate deals with that once she finds out.

DD:DNE

Fic Moodboard

Y/n had been protecting the Red Keep and the Royal Family inside of it since Viserys was a baby and before Daemon was even born. Both boys were very close to the vampire since their own mother died when they were 3 and 7, Daemon clinging to her skirts until his father deemed it “inappropriate” which she found funny. To this day the man still had a sad little crush on her despite his 2 past wives and obvious lust for his niece.

Viserys kept her around when he became King, being fond of the women and knowing that she would never do anything but protect his family. She never could have foreseen one of the Kings children being her mate, though she hid it very well knowing that she could never leave now even if she actually wanted to. No need to let them know that, can’t let humans have the upper hand. Historically that hasn’t gone well for supernatural species.

Aemond, as a human, couldn’t feel the bond (though he would-should he become a vampire) but he was desperately in love with her anyway. Y/n suspected it had something to do with Alicent being a terrible mother to her children and Aemond’s “Mommy Issues” but also the fact that she was the one who comforted him every time his elder brother and nephews ridiculed him once again for his lack of dragon. Y/n didn’t want to make the young boy attached to her but she hated seeing her small mate in pain and every time she was forced to hear his cries her undead heart cracked once again.

The older he got the more distance she attempted to maintain, especially after the Queen made it clear that she did not appreciate her son growing attached to a “monster”. However the night that Aemond lost his eye, she may as well have broadcast how protective of the Targaryen Prince she really was…she practically did.

Y/n was awoken in her bed to the sound of knights running up the corridor and even worse than that, the heavy, delicious scent of her mates blood, quite a lot of it. When she sped down the halls and into the room she was stunned to find a Maester stitching up Aemond’s face. Luke had what appeared to be a broken nose and all of the children besides Aegon and Helaena were disheveled, though the only one bleeding copious amounts of blood was for some reason her mate.

“What happened?!” She demanded, storming in towards the scene, noting that the Maester was stitching up a missing eye (while said eye sat in a bloody dish).

“Y/n!” Aemond exclaimed, reaching his hand out for her comfort, comfort that he had not received in months since his mother insisted she avoid her son at all costs several months before. This time however, Y/n couldn’t have done it if she had wanted to and Aemond felt at least some form of relief from his favorite persons touch again.

“Oh sweet boy! What’s happened to you?!” She cooed, knowing the needy boy just craved affection and that now more than any other day, he needed it. His mother was in no place to comfort her son as she was snapping at anyone in the vicinity, angry at everyone it seemed.

“I claimed a dragon…” he mumbled into her ear as she hugged him, careful not to touch the injured side of his face. “I rode Vhagar…they said I stole her and attacked me. I admit I didn’t say the nicest things but they all attacked me and Luke…there was sand in my eyes and then he…” He was trying not to cry desperately, not wanting to seem weak in front of this women that was the epitome of strength, and that he was desperately in love with but she held him tighter and he allowed himself to cry for several moments until the doors opened and everyone else began arriving-Corlys and Rhaenys, the King himself who was looking rougher and smelling more and more of death every day in Y/n’s eyes (the scent of his blood was completely revolting), and finally Rhaenyra and…Daemon? Together? Y/n found that interesting…but not shocking.

“It’s alright sweet boy, breathe. It is alright to cry if that is what you need, if our bodies weren’t meant to cry then they wouldn’t be able to, now would they?” This made the boy smile slightly, though he winced in pain as soon as he did as his face moved.

Aemond held tightly to her hand as Alicent shouted at everyone and Rhaenyra tried to justify her sons actions. The King demanded Aemond tell him where he had heard Jace and Luke being called ‘bastards’ and he quickly blamed Aegon who made it clear that everyone in the room knew. “Could any word, any insult of any kind justify having your eye carved from your head? He was called a foul word and so he sliced his Uncles face with a blade he brought to an ambush, 4 on 1 which was clearly the intention. How is being called a bastard-which shouldn’t matter if it is not true- worth this?” Y/n questioned, everyone instantly shocked as most had never heard her say more than 5 words at once.

“It is treason!” Rhaenyra snapped.

“Oh, come off it! A word is not fucking treason, trying to murder a Prince however, now that is treason, a crime which Lucerys has clearly committed. If anyone should be sharply questioned it should be him.” Once again, everyone was stunned including Aemond who was looking up at Y/n as if she hung the stars in the sky herself just for him.

“Enough! The matter is finished! I will have No More of this infighting!” The King snapped, Aemond once again holding tight to Y/n who stroked his hair softly, everyone shuffling off to bed once Alicent had ‘calmed down’.

“Can you heal him?” The mother asked Y/n as they stood at Aemond’s bedside, the boy looking up at her hopefully.

“I can heal the injury, yes but I cannot grow body parts back, the scar will remain no matter what I do…I’m sorry sweet boy.” Aemond held her hand firmly as his mother huffed angrily, storming off to find the Maester once her son had gulped down the milk of the poppy.

“It is not your fault…it is Luke’s. And he will pay for making me a monster, I swear to the Gods he will!” Y/n’s eyes widened and she forced Aemond to look at her.

“You are not a monster! You are scarred, that is all. Plenty of men have scars and many women find them attractive. One day you will meet a wonderful noble lady and she will love you for everything that you are, sweet boy.”

“Do you?” Aemond asked and she looked at him curiously. “Do you like men with scars?”

“Oh…yes. It shows women how strong he is, that he will be good at protecting them and their family…sadly I will never have that. However, just like you will meet a wonderful lady, I will find myself a vampire to be with one day…I’m sure...” She said it even though she didn’t believe a word she was saying.

“I want to be a vampire some day. You could turn me and I could stay with you forever!” He smiled, pulling her to lay down beside him in the large bed, his mind clearly becoming foggy thanks to the milk of the poppy. She hesitated but it felt nice to be close to her mate, to know after he had been injured so grievously that he was completely safe in her arms as he rested his head on her shoulder. “We can go anywhere we want now that I have Vhagar, nothing would be able to stop us.”

“Never sweet boy…you sleep now. Have sweet dreams.” She encouraged but he was already asleep, his face nestled into her neck in a vulnerable position she would only ever trust her mate to be in.

About a year after that Y/n was sent to Dragonstone by the King. There had been an attempt on Rhaenyra’s life and he wanted the Vampire to protect his daughter and her family.

Aemond protested loudly but it did nothing and she was still “made” to go. Y/n didn’t do anything she didn’t want to but she wanted to make sure that Aemond had time and space to grow into the perfect man she knew he would, one who was attracted to more women than just her and would be happy in his marriage. She couldn’t force him into this mating bond-she wouldn’t! Y/n also did not appreciate the idea of a man telling her what to do, male vampire mates are dominant and aggressive in a way humans cannot even fathom, which is why she avoids males and mated pairs like the plague.

They had fallen out of contact after Aemond had turned 13 and she knew he had found…other interests. A 13 year old boy does not want to write letters to a grown women while he can be pursuing girls his own age. It still hurt however and she knew, as they traveled back to Kings Landing because Corlys could not keep himself from nearly getting killed, that she needed to stay away from Aemond.

It was much easier said than done.

Jace and Luke had dragged Y/n with them to the training yard, a place they never spent much time at on Dragonstone as they believed they had not only their dragons but a vampire to protect them.

She stood back as they reminisced over their good times in the yard, though she would not call being really bad at everything “good times”. Her attention was only drawn when she smelled him, his scent having evolved over the years. It was stronger now, more manly and…heavy. Y/n was instantly obsessed with it and quickly needed to control herself, clamping down on her instincts as strongly as she could-her instinct right now being to shove a bloody wrist into his mouth and change him, leaving him with no choice but her-she refused to do that no matter how tempting it was. She had always felt drawn to Aemond as her mate, however she severely underestimated how intense being physically attracted to him would be for the first time now that he was grown.

‘Nephews. Have you come to train?’ He asked the boys who stiffened, moving back towards her to ensure their safety. ‘Hello darling…you haven’t changed a bit!’ He grinned, stepping closer before she stepped back.

‘You have my Prince…you are grown. You should get back to your training session, I would not want to cause a distraction.’

Okay, so maybe she was a bit upset that he stopped writing her, but honestly it had hurt her feelings. Just because she’s a vampire does not mean that she has no feelings, she had feelings and they’re so much stronger than any normal human could possibly imagine. She walked back into the castle being followed by Rhaenyra’s idiot sons that she dubbed such as they did not like to work for things that they knew would be theirs. Does anyone think that Luke will be fighting for his own inheritance? Of course not, his mother will do it for him like every other day.

Y/n was given her own room and she quickly found it, grabbing herself some peasant clothes and making her way back out of the Keep and into the streets.

She found herself a meal in the form of 2 would be rapists and sent the woman (unharmed but for some torn clothes) on her way while she ate her meal. Their blood was laced with horrible ale, making Y/n resent getting accustomed to fine wine and delicious human food.

‘Are you enjoying yourself, my love?’ She spun around to see her mate under a cloak, hiding his hair and eye patch.

‘Have you lost your mind?!’ She snapped. ‘What are you doing here?!’

‘I wanted to see you. You would not speak to me and I-‘

‘If you remember correctly my Prince, you would not speak to me! You stopped writing, I have just continued the level of communication that you wanted and now it is time to get the Prince of the Realm back home! Start walking!’ She growled, pushing him forward before storming back towards the Red Keep, having her elbow grabbed and being shoved against a wall while thinking about how lucky he should consider himself, he would be the only person she ever allowed to do such a thing.

‘Please stop this, I am sorry Y/n! Truly sorry, you cannot possibly-‘

‘Understand?’ She cut him off. ‘I have been alive for a very long time Aemond-longer than you ever will-do-‘

‘I Was Ashamed!’ He raged, eyes hard as he looked down at her from where he stood, nearly a foot taller than her now. ‘My brother took me to a brothel and I…I was ashamed of what happened to me!’

In that moment Y/n felt her heart crack in 2, her mate had been hurt, had been assaulted and it had been his own brothers fault. ‘Aemond…why would you not just tell me? I would never judge you for that sweet boy, that is not your fault! Just because most men think with their cocks, it doesn’t mean you need to enjoy everything and someone forcing you is not okay!’ She pulled him down to her and hugged him firmly, allowing him to cling to her as she knew he had missed. ‘Take me to this brothel Aemond. Now.’ She demanded, taking his hand in hers and pulling him towards the silk street.

‘No! I don’t want you anywhere near there, those men-‘

‘Will have their heads popped like zits if they touch either one of us. Now point it out! Or do you want me to get upset with you-‘

‘No! No, no. It’s over there.’ He mumbled, pointing at a building that definitely looked like a brothel.

‘Now, you point these ladies out to me. How many of them touched you?’ His face turned a deep shade of red that disappeared under his cloak and she was curious to see how far it went.

‘Y/n, I don’t…2 of them.’ He realized that she was going to get her answers one way or another and it would just be easier to give them to her. ‘Her.’ He spoke silently as a women opened the door, her eyes lighting up as she saw him.

‘It’s been a long time…my my, how you’ve grown.’ She flirted and Y/n felt her fangs growing from her gums.

‘Hello. This is a tad embarrassing to admit but my man and I are having some…troubles…in the bed chamber and I had hoped the women that were so good to him before would be willing to…teach me how to please him? I can pay you both handsomely.’ She promised and the woman’s eyes lit up, taking her hand and pulling her inside.

‘What are you doing?’ Aemond whispered, leaning down to her and keeping his hands on her waist protectively which the beastial part of her vampire brain loved.

‘No one hurts my sweet boy and lives. I would have killed them a long time ago if you had just told me the truth, no more secrets.’ They were escorted into a separate area with a large bed in the middle, curtains being drawn shut behind and Aemond’s hands clamped down on Y/n’s waist tighter than she believes he meant to. ‘You’re safe with me Aemond, I will never let anyone hurt you again.’ She promised, taking his face into her hands and making sure he saw how serious she was before he suddenly connected their lips together roughly.

He was awkward and didn’t quite know what he was doing so instead of pushing him away and make him feel rejected, she grabbed the back of his neck and took control of the kiss which had him whimpering, clinging to her waist before a throat cleared. ‘Oh wow, you were right Sylvie…not such a little thing anymore, are you?’ The new women in the room giggled and it took everything to keep her vampire visage from showing.

‘Why don’t you go ahead and get undressed and we’ll get started.’ Sylvie told the vampire and she nodded, pushing Aemond to sit.

‘You just relax sweet boy, I’m going to take care of the ones that hurt you. I promise.’ She ignored the clear tent in his pants before unlacing her dress, pulling it down her body and dropping her small clothes as well to leave her completely bare. There is something to be said about the feeling of feeding (especially messily) when you can get it all over your skin. It makes a vampire feel…free.

‘Leona can get him ready for you, you come here for me.’ Sylvie instructed but Y/n grabbed Leona’s hand tightly before she touched Aemond.

‘No. This is about teaching me, only I touch him, he is mine.’ She tried to keep the growl from her voice but she knew that she had failed as they looked quite startled.

‘Of course! It is your coin, whatever you desire.’ With that Sylvie turned to undress and Y/n grabbed Leona by the throat.

The ship ride had been long and annoying, full of nothing to eat considering the royal family would never offer up their own blood for their protector-why would they?

‘You will not scream, not make a sound. You will not flee…I’m going to save you for last. You seem like you’ll taste better…cleaner.’ She compelled and Leona looked terrified but had no choice but to stay in the bed as Y/n turned back to Sylvie. When she looked back the vampire grabbed ahold of her throat and cut off her scream at seeing her true face. ‘It’s terrifying to look at, isn’t it? Even the whole of the royal family hasn’t seen what I truly look like. It’s meant to make preys final moments terrifying you see…fear makes the blood…exquisite.’ She laughed, watching the women gasp for air as she tried to claw at her face resulting in fangs sinking into her hand and taking off 2 fingers which dropped onto the bed, her screams unable to come out as she held Sylvie’s airway so firmly. ‘You hurt my boy.’ Y/n growled, pinning her down to the bed, blood now covering her bare torso as she continued trying to push her away with her 3 fingered hand. ‘His elder brother told you to and so you didn’t care how he felt…did you ask if he wanted you to fuck him?’ She was gapping like a fish out of water, clawing at porcelain skin. ‘Answer Me!’ She roared and Sylvie flinched, shaking her head as best she could. ‘No, of course not. Why would you? You had gotten your money and every boy wants to fuck any women any time, don’t they? Yeah? Horseshit! Men can be assaulted just like girls and you assaulted him…admittedly no one would have cared if it wasn’t for me. But I do, I care very much. And I’m going to kill you both for it.’

Tears leaked from her eyes as claws dug into her shoulder, ripping down her chest and gashing her open, more dark blood spraying all over the bed. ‘Y/n? You don’t have to-‘

‘Maybe you should wait outside sweet boy, this could be too much for you.’ She told him before releasing the woman’s throat and burying sharp fangs into her neck, downing the rest of her blood-though she was much too weak to make a sound now.

As Y/n was distracted she did not notice the other girl having pulled a dagger from behind the pillows, but Aemond did. He grabbed her before she could touch the vampire woman and fought with her for a second before the blade was thrust up and buried into his throat. It was only when she smelled his distinct scent that she turned to find him bleeding from a gaping hole in his neck prompting her to punch the girl in the side of the head, her collapsing unconscious instantly before she caught Aemond who tried to stumble back, holding his throat tightly.

He opened his mouth, blood spewing from his neck as he tried to make a sound. ‘Scared…’ he choked, coughing blood all over his mouth and chin.

‘Shh, don’t talk sweet boy, it’s okay. Just drink, I need you to swallow for me quickly before you die! Just drink, it’s alright, I’m right here’’ She insisted, ripping open the veins in her wrist roughly and shoving it into his mouth. He painfully swallowed as she instructed, his bloody hand reaching up to touch her face as he was seeing her vampire visage for the first time. He didn’t look afraid as he touched her, fingers trailing the dark veins under her eyes before his hand fell and she realized his eye had gone glassy and his heart had stopped.

Fuck!

She removed his cloak and weapons from him but left his clothes on, mate or not she did not want to make him uncomfortable in anyway, before settling him on the clean pillows off to the side of the large bed. The younger girl woke up before Aemond and Y/n compelled her quickly, wiping off the bits of blood that had landed on her before having her leave the bed and fetch them the things they would need.

It was about an hour before he opened his eye, just as she started getting worried that he hadn’t actually injested any of her blood. He groaned as he sat up, stretching before his body froze, nostrils flaring and eyes shooting open to lock onto her with a truly wild look in them. ‘Calm down Aemond, you’re going to behave! You need to feed before anything else or you will die again and this one will be permanent.’ He gave no indication that he understood her as he watched her take hold of the girl and drag her over to him, slicing into her neck with a claw. ‘Drink sweet boy, now!’ His eyes widened a bit, stunned by her demands and she could understand why as he did what she said, draining the whore quickly.

Male vampires are dominant creatures-Aemond is not. Not really anyway. Now his natural instincts and feelings are battling with his new ones, though Y/n knew that she could fix that just fine. ‘Y/n, you-‘

‘I know. I tried to keep you from this, I shouldn’t have brought you here and I’m sorry-‘ he lunged forward, shoving her back onto the bed and growling, nuzzling his face into her throat.

‘I was meant to be with you, I always knew it…but you tried to keep me away? You didn’t want me to-‘

‘I wanted you to live a normal life, Aemond! A happy life where you could have a wife and children of your own, I can never give that to you!’ She snarled, flipping them both over and pinning him this time. ‘I didn’t get to choose this life! This was done to me, no one gets a choice! I just…I didn’t want to force this Hell on you just because I was greedy. I love you sweet boy, I always have. Admittedly you made it a bit more challenging to stay away from you by growing up.’ She teased making him smile. ‘I can still teach you how to act, you can be a Prince as you’re supposed to be. Children won’t be possible any longer but a marriage-‘

‘A marriage to anyone but you is out of the question and I would be happy to be the one to tell my Grandsire…mine!’ He snarled, pressing his lips to hers again much harder this time.

‘Stop! Stop-Not here! Not in this place so full of horrid memories for you sweet boy-‘ he snarled instantly making her growl and cut him off. ‘You are and always will be my sweet boy, being a vampire does not change that. It’s what you want and it’s what I want. Might as well just get used to it now…then again, you don’t have much time. We need to get back to the Keep.’ She knew that they needed to hurry to make the succession hearing on time, she’ll just have to keep Aemond extra close to ensure he doesn’t get too…excited.

Though training a baby vampire hadn’t been on her to do list anytime soon…historically, they’re not very well behaved children.

Y/n stood beside Aemond in the hall to ensure he did not lose himself if someone started bleeding. Rhaenyra and Daemon gave her odd looks but she tried to ignore it, instead listening to Vaemond argue for why he should take over Driftmark instead of Luke.

Rhaenyra had only just started arguing for her son when the doors opened and a guard introduced the King prompting her to pull Aemond behind her now, nearly shoving Aegon off his feet in her rush. ‘Hold your breath!’ She demanded and he looked at her confused. ‘You will not handle the smell of your father well at all, hold your-‘ at that moment Y/n was overwhelmed with the stench of foul death and Aemond gagged.

‘What is that?!’ He whisper shouted down at her, Aegon now locked onto their conversation and trying to catch up through his near constant drunken haze.

‘That is the scent of death, his blood is practically toxic and it is so much worse than last time, he’s literally decaying-oh God!’ She shoved down the bile that rose in her throat and held her breath as Aemond did.

‘Wait-are you…?’ Aegon questioned prompting Aemond to glare and pull her closer possessively. ‘Holy Shit! I knew it would happen, I knew it! Hey, I want to be a vampire as well-‘

‘You by my side for eternity? I can think of nothing worse.’ Aemond responded before they all quieted down, the King panting heavily as he questioned why people were discussing a settled succession. ‘Oh dear, he’s going to get himself killed.’ Her mate chuckled while Vaemond was calling Rhaenyra’s boys bastards.

‘Yes, maybe we should-Dammit Daemon!’ Y/n hissed, the top half of a Vaemond’s head splattering against the floor in a bloody mess, his tongue hanging out of what used to be his face, blood spraying out of the now flat surface that was previously his skull. She grabbed ahold of Aemond before he lunged and Aegon moved to grab his other arm as well (which while it was appreciated and a nice sentiment of wanting to protect his little brother, would only end up with his bones being snapped if Aemond grabbed or pulled him too hard).

‘Y/n…my old friend…what…is the problem?’ Viserys questioned, his voice laced with pain.

‘No problem at all my King, the Prince is just feeling a bit under the weather. I shall escort him back to his chambers-‘

‘It seems to be a tad more than that.’ Daemon teased though his tone held anger as well prompting Aemond to growl, not liking any man anywhere to speak to his mate like that.

‘You seem to know the answer already Daemon, yet you tease like an idiot. Maybe you could handle him yourself, yes?’ She wondered, releasing her iron grip and watching her mate rocket into the warrior Prince who instantly fought as hard as he could but could not even move a muscle as his nephew pinned him to the floor.

Just as he was about to dig his fangs in she grabbed ahold of the back of his neck and pulled him back. ‘Mate! You heard him, he-‘

‘I know, and yet you’re going to release him anyway…Now!’ She demanded and he detached himself from his Uncle.

‘You’ve turned my son into a-‘ as if Aemond was prepared for exactly what his mother was going to say he cut her off quickly.

‘She saved me mother! I had a dagger shoved into my throat and my mate saved my life! You will not speak to her like that, no one will, or I will ensure you never speak again!’ He threatened.

‘Apologies my Queen, he is as of yet unable to control his rage, controlling any emotion takes time. We will work on it.’ She swore, pulling him back to the other side of the room. ‘Though I do recommend controlling your sons, Princess. If they antagonize him like they normally do I cannot ensure their safety, therefore you must ensure that they behave themselves.’ Rhaenyra looked at Y/n completely stunned before she turned back to the King, Aemond now turning his attention to the blood pooling all over the floor. ‘I will take him to the Black Cells and allow him to gorge himself before dinner tonight, he will be in complete control by then…probably…’

The King looked curious but clearly unable to do much anymore, the pain being too much. ‘Go.’ He waved them off and Y/n grabbed ahold of her mate and pulled him from the hall.

‘I do not like the way he looks at you.’ Aemond speaks as they descend into the dungeons.

‘Your father? He is nothing more than a dear friend, though watching his life has been a disappointment, I had always expected him to be a much better father-‘

‘No! Daemon! He leers at you and I do not appreciate-‘

‘Enough Aemond. You need to take control of your emotions instead of letting them control you! You will not make it as a vampire if you cannot control your anger. I will help you, and I do not expect you to thrive the first night, but you need to try. Now, 3 should be plenty. Eat.’

Aemond paused a moment, looking over the now confused men in the cell, only moving to grab one of them when he lunged for Y/n. He was determined to be strong enough to protect her, no matter how hard he had to work. Hard work had never been a problem for Aemond, he was no stranger to it.

‘Slow down.’ Y/n instructed and he fought hard with himself to unlock his jaw and pull away from his meal, eyes looking back up at her and seeing perfectly in the dark Black Cells for the first time in his life. He can also see why you would want it so dark, it is absolutely disgusting down here, and the rats are huge. ‘Take a breath and savor it, notice how it makes your body feel. When you get used to how it makes you feel you’ll know when you’re full, there will always be a part of you that is thirsty for more so you need to know when enough is enough.’ She ran her fingers through his hair as she spoke and he began drinking slower, noticing how he could feel the strength returning to his body as if turning had physically drained all muscle from his body. As he continued swallowing the burning in his throat lessened more and more until it was just an ache.

Aemond drained all 3 men slowly, adoring the affection that his mate was bestowing upon him.

‘You did so good baby, listening so well…I think you deserve a treat, don’t you?’ The one eyed Prince nodded immediately, not willing to turn down a reward from his mate. ‘Good Boy…’ she coo’ed, kneeling beside him and pulling him to lay back against her body. He watched as she buried her teeth into her wrist before bringing it to his mouth. ‘Drink sweet boy, let your mate make you feel so good…’

He paused for a second, confused about what the difference could possibly be between the blood he’d had and his mates blood but he trusted her none the less and bit down into her wrist. The rush of pleasure up his spine was unlike anything Aemond had ever felt in his life. She tasted like bliss and his head filled with a pleasurable buzzing that had him moaning into her flesh.

‘That’s it baby. It’s all yours.’

‘Mmnngh!’ His…she was his…finally after all this time, Y/n belonged to Aemond and no one would ever steal her away. He pulled back, turning around to see her kneeling behind him with a smile on her face.

‘I didn’t expect you to finish that quickly, was-Oh!’ She grunted as he jumped onto her, laying her back over the dead bodies before burying his face into her neck and biting into her again. ‘Such a needy little thing!’ She growled, biting into his neck next, tearing off his shirt as she did. Aemond wasted no time in returning the favor, ripping at her dress and tearing it from her body, finally feeling her skin against his which was warmer than he ever dreamed now that he is just as cold as she is. ‘Are you sure you want to do this now? I want you to be ready, you never have to-‘ he cut her off, pressing his lips to hers hard and tearing his pants open to press himself against her warmth. He could not suppress the moan that built in his throat and while any other time he would feel embarrassed about how needy it sounded, he could not find it in himself to give a fuck at that moment.

‘I’ve always felt safe with you. You could never hurt me.’ He said it with such surety that Y/n didn’t question him anymore, just wrapped her legs around his waist as he pushed his way inside of her, growling into her neck at the warm, tight feeling around his cock. ‘So fucking perfect…fuck!’ Aemond cursed, moving quickly, his hips thrusting up into her at a speed that no normal human could even hope to achieve.

‘Fuck! That’s it sweet boy, take what you need.’ Her soft moans encouraged him to keep going and he wrapped his arms around her tightly, pulling her to his chest and holding her against him as he thrust up into her body. He couldn’t hide the purr that came from his chest as he felt her clinging to him tightly, her claws digging into his back deliciously.

‘Feel so good…so tight! Oh fuck!’ He grunted, knowing he was going to cum way too quickly but unable to stop himself.

‘It’s okay sweet boy, cum for me, fill me up.’ As if her permission was everything he needed he felt as if his body exploded in euphoria as he came. He dug his fangs into her neck and her sweet blood made his head fuzzy as he filled his mate as much as he was able.

When he was finally able to think clearly again he could feel her brushing her fingers through his hair gently which produced a soft purr from his chest that he couldn’t decide if he liked or not. ‘I’m sorry…’

‘No baby, there’s no need to be sorry. You did everything just right, everyone finishes early their first time and you’re a new vampire, everything feels a million times better. That’s not your fault-‘

‘But you didn’t…I want to make you feel good too.’ He admitted and immediately loved the smile it produced on her face.

‘There’s plenty of time for that. You’re a vampire now sweet boy, your stamina is 10x stronger. I will show you what to do, no man just knows how to make a girl cum without being taught, don’t ever think you’ve done something wrong. Okay? You and I have eternity now…though I would appreciate a bed before we do anything else? I can get behind fucking on top of a fresh kill but this dungeon is gross.’ Aemond couldn’t help his chuckle at that, lifting his mate back up and using his torn shirt to cover her nudity before moving to take her to his bed chamber. The rush he got through his body as he ran there felt like he had left his internal organs behind as he caught himself on the door making Y/n giggle. ‘You’ll get used to that, I promise.’

‘I don’t believe you on that one.’ He teased, shutting his door and locking it to ensure no one could get in. ‘I really hope you weren’t looking forward to that dinner tonight, because I’m not letting you out of this bed before dawn.’

‘Is that so?’ She teased before he tossed her onto the soft mattress, pinning her back down playfully.

‘It is my love. You are all mine for the rest of the night.’

‘I’m all yours for the rest of forever sweet boy, we have all the time in the world.’

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

218 notes · View notes

spartanseagoat · 3 months ago

Text

Hey Babe, Let Me Tell You About Your Chiron Real Quick & Explain Why you are hurt

Hey y’all!! To kick off my new Astro page, I thought I would start off with some healing!

Who is Chiron?

Chiron in Greek Mythology was the Son of Kronos , other sources say Apollo and was a famous centaur. He was known for his vast knowledge of medicines and his overall deep wisdom. He was known for the arts as well. He was also an incredible teacher and taught many Greek heroes such as Hercules.

He was accidentally shot by a poisoned arrow and was unable to heal himself so Greek God Zeus honored him by giving him a place in the constellation known as Centaurus.

How does this play into astrology?

In astrology, Chiron is known as the “Wounded Healer and Teacher.” He represents the unhealed part of ourselves that we keep rehealing. Think of it this way, it’s like our triggers.

Imagine getting severely hurt physically , your wounds heal but now you have a nasty scar from that wound. Even though that wound is healed, you’ll always have that reminder of when you were in pain and it can be triggering.

You’ll never fully heal your Chiron but you can learn from it and how to grow as a person. Your Chiron wounds can be from past lives as well. You may have experienced this in your early childhood the most and it’s followed you through adulthood.

The parts of you that you need to start Healing based on the signs

*the house it’s in determine the area in life you are wounded in. Degrees of your placement also plays a part THIS IS A GENERALIZED BREAKDOWN!

Aries/1h- being hurt physically, not having confidence in yourself, not feeling bold. Don’t feel comfortable in the body you’re in. People saying mean things about your appearance, bullying was a big part of your early wounds.

Taurus/2h- your self worth, being homeless or struggling for home stability, financial struggles, feeling insecure about your voice or how you dress or look. Food struggles is another big one

Gemini/3h- you struggle with communicating your thoughts, having car or transportation struggles, having difficulties with siblings or co-workers. May have learning disabilities such as ADHD

Cancer/4h- you struggle with understanding your emotions and how to regulate them. Troubles with your home life or family, especially mother. Motherhood could be hard for you as well such as not wanting to be a mom or wanting to be one

Leo/5h- your inner childhood, being confident around others, don’t like being in the spotlight. Feel uncomfortable around children, bruised ego from childhood wound

Virgo/6h- suffer from perfectionism and wanting to be the best at everything. Physical Health related issues, work related issues, struggle with routines

Libra/7h- connecting with people one on one, relationship issues. Struggles with finding balance in your life, not having justice or fairness on your side. Struggles with trying to please everyone

Scorpio/8h- struggles with trusting others and being closed off, struggles with developing intimate connection with partners. Dealing with a death of a loved one at an early age, struggle with financial power and control. Power struggles in general

Sagittarius/9h- having a hard time communicating your beliefs and perspectives or people not understanding your worldview, struggles with broadening your view, traveling struggles, religious trauma, struggled in college/higher learning environments. Carry the world on their shoulders.

Capricorn/10h- struggles with ambition and setting long term goals, struggles with not getting recognition or the respect you earned. Struggles with responsibility. This can indicate being a workaholic as well

Aquarius/11h- feeling like an outcast from social circle or network. Having a hard time accomplishing your dreams fulfillment, struggles with social media or the internet in general. Struggles with seeing the good in humanity, being rebellious to the point of being reckless , always feeling uncomfortable in crowds.

Pisces/12h- lack boundaries with people, struggle to see people for who they are and put them on a pedestal, struggle with regulating your emotions due to feeling other people emotions, mental health struggles, addiction struggles, imprisonment struggles

Keep in mind this is a very broad and generalized reading. If you want me to make a detailed a post for each Chiron let me know here by voting!

#astrology #astrology community #astrology content #astro placements #astro community #astro observations #spartanseagoat #astro notes #tropical astrology #chiron #Chiron series

155 notes · View notes

shadowcanine · 2 months ago

Text

NATALIE “SAMANTHA” RUPNOW, AND WHAT WE KNOW.

This post is for informational / educational purposes only, I do not condone her actions. What she did is horrific, but we must learn from it in order to stop it from happening again. If we forget history, it will repeat itself.

Natalie “Samantha” Rupnow is the 15-year old assailant behind the December 16th attack on Abundant Life Christian School in Madison, WI, which left 3 dead (including herself) and 6 injured- 2 of whom are facing life-threatening injuries, but as of today (12/17) seem to be, at the very least, in stable condition.

At 11AM EST, Samantha brought a handgun (believe it was a .9mm) into a mixed grade study hall, and opened fire.

The deceased include a teacher at ALCS, a student, and Samantha herself- though the victims have not been identified yet. In a press conference, the mayor was asked to identify them, and replied with “Why do you really want to know? Leave them be.”

The school, ALCS, has been described by students, locals, and alumni as “extreme.” It’s a Christian school that teaches that evolution isn’t real, and local politicians are hand-picked by God himself. According to current students at the school, bullying is an issue, but it’s not very severe. I recently spoke to one individual who said “Samantha wasn’t bullied. She was quiet, and didn’t fit into any of the friend-groups here, but she wasn’t bullied.” I have proof this individual attends ALCS, but I have no way of actually confirming these specific claims, so take them with a grain of salt.

Samantha was a part of the TCC, even owning a replica of Eric Harris’ “HELL YEAH KMFDM” shirt- the one that he wears in the cafeteria video. Samantha clearly drew inspiration from Columbine, but Sandy Hook may have also been a factor- this year, the anniversary of SH fell on a Saturday. Samantha committed her act the next possible school day.

Her manifesto was posted onto her X, @postalbrained, but it was done on Google Drive- and Samantha did not make the document public. Her account has since been made private by a friend, but Samantha’s boyfriend has released the full 6 page manifesto to an influencer- it can be found on the X account @slatzism . I will not post it here for sake of not wanting to lose my account.

I have very little to say regarding her manifesto- this post isn’t one for my opinions, so I’m trying to keep it factual. Despite reading and re-reading, I cannot figure out a clear motive. She did state that suicide without taking anyone with her would be “a waste”- which may be a reference to the Zero Day (2003) scene, in which Calvin Gabriel says.. basically the same thing. This isn’t confirmed, but it would make sense, as she liked a lot of Zero Day content on Tumblr.

As far as her family goes, Samantha claims she didn’t have a good relationship with either parent, describing her father as “verbally abusive” and sharing a memory in her manifesto in which her mother ignored Samantha’s crying, because her mother would rather “spend time with her boyfriend.”

A lot isn’t known, so this post isn’t very long- and I will be updating it as I discover more, but while I have your attention, I’d like to clear up some misinformation:

- Samantha Rupnow, 15, and her boyfriend, 17- are both cisgender. Samantha is not trans, and never was- anybody who tells you differently is trying to push an agenda.

- Samantha was not a misandrist or radfem. This comes from an alleged “segment of her manifesto” that was leaked, but the photo has been proven to have zero correlation to Samantha. If anything, she was incredibly misogynistic, dedicating an entire section of her manifesto to slut shame women.

Here are all confirmed photos of Samantha Rupnow:

* note that the first photo includes her edited photo (left) as well as the original photo (right)

#true crime #tcc #samantha rupnow #abundant life christian school shooting #tccblr #tcc tumblr #teeceecee #true cringe community #dylan columbine #eric columbine #sandy hook #adam lanza #shadowsresearch

130 notes · View notes

theresattrpgforthat · 4 months ago

Text

Canada, Truth & Reconciliation, & Indigenous Games

Hello friends,

Today (September 30th) is the National Day of Truth & Reconciliation in Canada. It is a very recent holiday in this country, and it’s also very important to me. I want to spend some time today telling you about it, and then (since this is a ttrpg blog) directing you to some indigenous storytellers and designers that deserve a spotlight for various reasons.

I am not Indigenous. This information is a collection of knowledge that I have gained through university coursework, personal research I've undertaken, and relationships I've cultivated with indigenous friends who have taken pains to educate me and highlight how these issues have personally affected them. I am aware that the summary I'm providing is incomplete, and there may be elements that I don't fully understand the implications of.

If you are Indigenous, please keep in mind that this post may recall some painful and personal moments of history for you. Proceed with caution. The shout-outs to indigenous creators can be found after the heading “The Storytellers.”

The Truth.

Canada has been engaged in a cultural genocide of its indigenous peoples since European settlers started the colonization of the country. This genocide had many avenues, including the creation of the Indian Act, the relocation of many Indigenous peoples to restricted Reserves, and a disturbing trend of missing and murdered Indigenous women. For the purposes of today however, I’m going to stick to just talking about Residential Schools, and the impact they had on Indigenous families and their children.

Residential schools were designed to “kill the Indian” and “save the child”, in the words of John A Macdonald, the prime minister who authorized their creation. They were designed to sever Indigenous children from their culture and raise them in a Christian, colonial context. These residential schools were harsh, forbidding Indigenous children to speak their mother tongues, cutting their hair, and forcing them to learn skills considered “useful”, in the language of the colonizer, away from their parents. The schools were also hotbeds of abuse. Alarming numbers of children fell ill and died at these schools - the death toll to this day is unknown. From April 1, 1920 to some time in the 1990’s, residential school attendance was mandatory for Indigenous children from the ages of 7 to 16.

The Sixties’ Scoop is a reference to a mass kidnapping of Indigenous children in the 1950’s and 60’s, who were forcibly removed from their homes and “adopted” into non-Indigenous families. While the last residential school in Canada closed in 1997, Indigenous children still make up over 50% of all children in private foster care, despite only accounting for just over 7% of all children under age 15 in Canada.

The Reconciliation.

Reconciliation is a goal prompted by Indigenous groups and elders. It is a choice that promotes "balance and harmony," a way of life that encourages coexistence, according to the words of one residential school survivor, Hereditary Chief, Dr. Robert Joseph.

In 2007, The Indian Residential Schools Settlement came into effect, offering compensation to survivors of many residential schools.

In 2008, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada was officially launched, intended to be a guide for the Canadian government to help establish lasting reconciliation. This commission was a way to formalize a method of collecting data, and it also had the responsibility of developing a list of recommendations for the country of Canada to follow, in the goal of pursuing a relationship between the Indigenous peoples of Canada and the government of Canada.

In 2007, Cindy Blackstock, a First Nations (Gitxsan) activist launched a court case against the Canadian government, for under-funding social services provided to children living on First Nations reservations. This was in regards to Jordan’s Principle, a child-first Canadian policy that is meant to ensure that First Nations children have equal access to all government funded public services as other Canadian children. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission made the respect of Jordan’s Principle one of its 94 Calls to Action for the Canadian government.

The Canadian Human Rights Tribunal became involved in 2016, when they found more alleged breaches of the Canadian Human Rights Act in regards to Jordan’s Principle. As of September this year, the Federal Government is still attempting to dismiss human rights complaints regarding the use (or, in fact, neglect) of Jordan’s Principle.

Canada’s history of residential schools and use of the foster care system has grievously wounded Indigenous families and children. The disruption of family life and the forcible removal of children from their culture has created legacies of loneliness, pain, and suicide. Indigenous people today can trace their own familial wounds to the legacy of residential schools and the lack of resources provided to them from the government. The National Day of Truth and Reconciliation is a day to remember this legacy and provide a space for education, but it isn’t enough.

You can learn more about this day and the history behind it by visiting the National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation Website.

You can also watch this 18-minute Youtube video about Residential Schools, or We Can’t Make the Same Mistake Twice, a free 2 & 1/2 hour documentary about Blackstock's continuous fight regarding caring for children using Jordan’s Principle.

I also recommend 21 Things You May Not Know About The Indian Act, by Mary-Ellen Kelm and Keith D. Smith, which breaks down some of the key elements of the Indian Act for everyday person.

So, how do we connect this to ttrpgs?

When it comes to the milestones that have been achieved in Canadian history, those milestones have been made because we listened to Indigenous voices. The recommendations made by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission that have been followed are having real and positive effects for Indigenous peoples in Canada. Listening to the stories of Residential School survivors has been integral to the processes recommended and undertaken by the Canadian government.

We need Indigenous stories. We need Indigenous storytellers.

The Storytellers

Coyote & Crow.

Coyote & Crow Games is a tabletop games publisher, primarily focused on the tabletop roleplaying game, Coyote & Crow. This is a world and game whose design team is fully Indigenous, from various First Nations people groups across North America. Coyote & Crow is a futuristic game about a land untouched by colonization, a land changed by a series of climate events that have changed the geographical and social landscape. It involves supernatural powers, a completely unique form of civil organization, and a unique d12 dice pool system

In a recent update, Connor Alexander, as the face of Coyote & Crow, announced some business decisions that include a creation of a consultant branch of the company, to provide professional consultation services for other creative endeavours that are looking to include Indigenous Representation in games.

What I love most about Coyote and Crow is that it’s a world where Indigenous creators have been given full reign over the ways they are represented in the fiction, and it provides a unique social and political imagining of society that pulls from many First Nations cultures. It’s refreshing, it’s exciting, and it provides a lot of guidance for non-Indigenous players so that they can engage with the world in a way that’s respectful.

Wendigo Workshop

This is a small team based in Quebec, Canada. I’m not entirely sure whether the team is fully Indigenous, but there are Indigenous creators as part of the team.

Currently the Workshop is working on a number of different games, including… Anomaly Hunters; a monster hunting ttrpg built on the Breathless SRD. Arkelon Chronicles; a science-fantasy ttrpg surrounding the discovery of an Alien ruin. Last Hope; a Caltrop Core game about magical girls fighting to protect the world while balancing their student lives.

Bramble Wolf Games

@sahonithereadwolf is an Indigenous creator based in Appalachia looking to make games that mean something. I found out about him through his game Exceptionals, a game about community, activism and kinetic eye beams. It’s inspired heavily by X-Men, but instead of telling superhero stories, it’s more about the fostering of a community outside of the systems created and enforced by colonial governments.

Sahoni is also currently working on a game called Protect the Sacred, a game inspired by Indiana Jones, but focused on the protection and preservation of monsters and artifacts in the interests of the cultures that have been stolen from by colonial powers. The game is about your relationship to your culture, and resistance to fascism - and you can get sneak peeks to this game through Sahoni’s Patreon.

Both Protect the Sacred and Exceptionals involve character creation that requires players to answer questions about who they are, what they do, and how they affect the community around them. They both recognize the community around you as integral to your success, and I think that this point of view is such an important concept to consider when using games as an art form that can expand your social imagination.

Also...

There is a consultancy service in Alberta, Canada called Pe Matawe Consulting, which is not focused specifically on ttrpgs, but does provide consulting for various creative endeavours. They provide consulting services as well as workshops, with the goal of providing a broader understanding of Indigenous culture and folklore.

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #canada #indigenous peoples #truth and reconciliation #cdnpoli

163 notes · View notes