#might as well do something noble with what little time there is left

[hourglass-meadow]

thing that id do if i wasn't lazy: raptor red-inspired fanfic about hunter's life prior to meeting NSH, to the events of its campaign and its eventual fate

titled Slugcat Red of course

[sashi-ya]

𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝘄𝗮𝗿 +18 figarland shanks x f! reader x figarland shamrock

🩸 tw: one piece manga #1137 spoilers! if you don't know who shamrock is, careful! 🩸 tw 2: mdni. nsfw. threesome. dp. oral. rough. man handling. insults. 🩸 a/n: hi, how you doing ~ I said I wanted to write it, and I did. Did I totally ignore the fact I need to pack my suitcase? yes. And did my slutty needs win? also yes. Please enjoy. Don't expect much characterization about Shamrock or a very accurate relationship with Shanks as we barely know him. also, I now asume the "shanks" on the left is not shanks but Shamrock since he went to see the Gorosei and we all thought it was Shanks. 🩸wc: 1.5k

“Who could have said it was that easy to bring you back home, brother!?” “Leave her alone, she has nothing to do with this”

In between two men that look so alike, and still so different, you find yourself. Restricted by soft, noble hands with ill intentions… you were maybe only a bait.

“It’s ok, Shanks. He didn’t hurt me!” you scream, trying to tame his instincts. You know that the red-haired pirate’s Haki can stop you from breathing -and destroy everything around as well-

“See? She is not lying. I have taken care of her, brother! You shouldn’t leave your little toys scattered around the ports of this world, or else someone else might stole them!” Shamrock Figarland mocks Shanks, yet he does in such refined way it ends up sounding like a truth you might already believe.

Shanks eyes fix on yours; perhaps he knows something you still don’t know. Perhaps, he understands his brother might be right. Leaving you on that port some months ago, crying, feeling used, was something he didn’t want, but ended up doing.

“I must admit you have a great taste, brother. She is such a sweet treat” Shamrock purrs, having your waist surrounded by one of his arms, while his free one caresses your cheek. “Aren’t you?” he continues.

The emperor can’t stop himself; even if Shanks is rarely bothered by immature and stupid actions that are meant to tease him, this time it did actually enraged him.

Gryphon’s edge ends on Shamrocks neck, with you in between two man exhorting dominance and testosterone. Shanks sun bathed skin, with salty traces from the sea… Shamrock’s one, pale, clean, soft, used to the finest things…

“Stop!” you whine, pressed in between their chests. “Stop, please! Stop fighting over me!”

Shamrock laughs; he doesn’t seem disturbed by the burning blade against his carotid, and in fact he keeps adding fuel to the fire.

“You are scaring the lady, brother… do you think she is gonna prefer your brutal attempt to save her instead of being treated like a queen?” he smirks, pulling you against him more and more.

Shanks puts down the sword, slowly. He needs his hand free now, to touch your face, to lure you back at him.

“Should I save you then? Or should I let you choose in between him and I?” he whispers, using his fingers to lift your chin up.

The difference is notorious even though both have the same purpose; possess you. Shank’s calloused hands, versus, soft, never used hands… how to pick just one? If both are irresistibly desirable?

“I don’t wanna choose; I love you, but you left me alone… I don’t love your brother, but he gave me what you took from me” you murmur, perhaps already regretting your decision.

“Ah… then you want us both, don’t you?” Shamrock says, moving your head to look at him instead of his brother.

“You want us both, (Name)?” Shanks asks, this time forcing you to turn your head to him.

Both have their hands on your mandible now; cris crossed, their thumbs close to the commissures of your lips, and their hips plastered against your body. Both hard, both erect. Both desperate to assert dominance, to devour you like beasts, like a hungry dragon.

Oh, sweet prey you must bleed to death in between their jaws. And you are totally fine with that… “I want you both; I want you Shanks. I want you Shamrock-sama”

The tips of his similar swords already cut your clothes, tearing them to pieces, leaving them like rags scattered around you.

Nudity, delicious and tempting, served on a silver platter to them. Shaking, you receive their fangs on each side of your neck, carving marks on your flesh.

Shamrock’s fingers tangle in between your hair, pulling your head back, making your breasts bounce.

The Figarland brothers’ lips abandon your collarbones to kiss your nipples; each attack one; sucking or biting. The difference on stimuli you loudly whine, with legs trembling and slowly failing you to keep standing up.

“Don’t fall, come here” Shamrock lifts you up from your waist, pretty much ripping you from Shanks’ mouth. You get seated on a rocky bed, somehow like a sacrifice altar. Elbaph castles all look the same.

Shanks grunts, watching his brother walk around the cold cot as you lay on your back. And, immediately after, he crawls in between your legs.

The pirate pleasantly finds out you are dripping wet, something he knows very well about you.

“Go first if you wish; as an act of kindness, I’ll let you have her first” the knight spits, acting as if he is the only one commanding. “I’m gonna have her warm mouth around me, anyway”

You gasp, as they both look with pure hatred into each other’s eyes. Yet, the moment breaks as you are given little pats and slaps to look to the side; as Shamrock just said, he wishes your mouth surrounding his sex first.

“Open, baby” he orders, softly. And you do, sticking your tongue out while you wait for his hardness to go deep into your throat.

His white pants don’t even need to go fully down; he is not even bothered to do it; his sex out will be enough. Drippy and delicious, it lands on your tongue. You receive it, pleased.

And as he begins to pump in and out your mouth, you begin moaning and choking.

“Such a slut…” Shanks whispers, looking at your oral spectacle, at the way the corner of your eyes fill with tears as you gag with his brother’s dick.

And, while he thought he cared about your body being used by someone so close but still so different from him, the idea of you being exactly used is what got him harder than ever.

“Now let’s see if your cunt can still handle me” the Yonkou grunts, dragging his palm up and down your sex, getting it coated with your juices. From your perineum to your clit, fast, enjoying the humid feeling of more and more wetness, forcing your legs open as they tend to close in response.

Shanks changes his palm for his two fingers, gladly anticipating the way your walls will clench around his dick when he finally buries deep inside you.

Shamrock laughs while using your face as a fuck hole; a tight grip on your hair to move your head, to make it bob, like you didn’t matter, like you were just made to please his “holly” dick.

“Keep your legs open, little slut” Shanks orders, going faster and harder, masturbating and getting your insides ready for his upcoming intrusion.

And just before you could burst, the redhaired stops the fingering. Maybe to punish you, or maybe just because he can’t wait no more. He needs to replace his fingers for his rock-hard shaft. It has started to hurt from the desire, from the desperation to fuck you.

That desperation, leads the pirate to slide his dick deep inside you without a warning, without any delicacy or love. Just pure madness, making your insides revolve and your body retort.

“Wow, easy brother…” Shamrocks grunts, forcing your mouth to keep surrounding his shaft. “You are gonna break her” he continues, laughing as if he wasn’t doing the same.

“Shut up” Shanks grunts back, going harder, using his arm around your waist to keep you from shaking, manhandling you for his own pleasure. “Keep fucking her, use her, it’s all she wants… slut”

In any other situation you would have feel yourself sad or insulted, but Shanks is right… all you want now is to be used, fucked by them…

“Then, let me fill her whole too” “Now you are asking for permission?” “Come on… you know me, I still have some codes”

Shanks scoffs; stopping his hips from punishing you with brutal rams, he lays flat on his back.

“Come here, ride me and get ready… slut” the pirate commands, allowing you to crawl and straddle your hips on his lap. You let your shaky body to fall on his sex, feeling all the length reaching deeper than ever. “Good girl…”

You start riding him, while Shamrock’s presence quickly surrounds you from behind. He kneels and pushes you from your back to fall a little on Shanks chest. “I’m sure your cunt can handle the Figarland pride just as well” Shamrock whispers on your ear, tickling your shoulder with his long hair, letting his tip slowly slide your already occupied entrance.

It takes barely seconds for both to be finally penetrating you, and also for them to start fucking you at unison. Your hips lost the war, and now it’s theirs that move.

“That’s good slut, that’s very good… you can take us both so well…” “Let us fill you up until you can’t keep it inside…”

You are just a toy, trembling, stretched, used, fucked by two of the strongest men in the world. And what a pleasure it is to know you took the right decision, why picking one if you can have both? ~

[yayll]

~ a little something about Dazai slowly moving you in without you knowing ~

"Osamu, can I borrow a comb or something? I can't seem to find my hairbrush..."

You call out as you rummage through your duffle bag you brought to spend the weekend at his place. you do this as much as you can, it's lovely to spend time with the one you love... And also because he loses all sanity and rationality if he goes a few days without seeing you. You've been there before, and it's a nightmare for both you and anyone interacting with him. Poor baby!

He perks up, staring at you from across the room, chin resting on his palm and his eyes half-lidded. He's thinking about the day he hid that from you, along with a few other garments. He calls back, sounding scattered.

"Mm? Oh, you can borrow anything you want! Mine's behind the bathroom mirror."

"Okay!"

You open the mirror, and the shelf has not only your hairbrush, but one of your hair clips too. You tilt your head, calling back out.

"Nevermind! Found some of my stuff. Guess I left them here last time, heh."

He jumps at your new finding, quietly cursing himself for not hiding that before you came over. Dazai sighs deeply and immediately hops off the stool, beelining it to you. He clears his throat, playing dumb like the demon he is.

"Well, I think you should still use mine. Please, yours looks all old and yucky. If you keep using it all of your hair will fall out and you'll be bald and hate yourself for the rest of your life and nobody will want you! Except for me, of course~"

"... Um, I don't think so?"

"Well I do! Now, come on, let's get these silky locks in check."

He spins you around and immediately starts combing out your hair, humming a little tune to himself as he does so. He makes a mental note to hide the shirt and pajama shorts he kept last weekend too, that's for when he's alone at night. He also needs to make sure you willingly start leaving things, otherwise you'll freak if you're missing half your stuff. He's so gentle with you and having the time of his life, lightly dusting his fingers against the nape of your neck. He stifles a giggle behind that little smirk plastered on his face when you squirm a bit. He'll make sure you do it plenty of more times before you leave later. Maybe you'll finally beg like he's been wanting you to!

"There. All done."

He presses a soft kiss at the top of your head and you flash him a sweet smile. He could honestly pass out right there. And if he fell down, he'd be at your feet, and then he could be at your knees. Oh! And then you'd fuss over him and never leave his sight. And then... So so so cute...

You get a thoughtful look on your face, and turn to face him fully, popping his delusional little bubble.

"... Come to think of it, I feel like I always lose stuff at your place. You'll gather it for me if you find it, Osamu?"

At the mention of his name, he feels his entire body heat up. He blinks twice and tilts his head innocently. God, you look breathtaking when you're confused. He'll have to take a photo sometime for his album. You love posing for those, and he loves looking at you.

"Sure, but why don't you just... Leave things here from now on? You're here alllll the time, might as well just keep stuff here for safe keeping. I'll be the noble keeper of your things!"

You raise a brow, huffing into a laugh.

"Yeah? Is that what you want to be?"

His voice then becomes softer, needier, and dead serious. He stares right into your beautiful eyes, drowning himself in them. He mutters.

"For you, I'll be anything you want me to be. Afterall, I'm nothing more than a boy made of clay~"

You blush at that. Really hard. Amazing! he thinks. He reaches for your soft face that feels hot to the touch, cupping it inbetween his bandaged hands as he delicately rubs circles on your temples with the pad of his thumb. You wish you could look anywhere else right now because you're falling apart under him and he knows it.

"When you move in, you can do anything you want with the place. Especially with me."

"... Shouldn't we talk more about this another time?"

"Mmm no, not really."

He replies, his Hazelnut eyes go a little darker as he looks down at you.

"Hm, I think we should, cause you're too fast for me. You're like a Hare." You giggle as you say that, eyes twinkling.

"I like bunnies. I like you..."

He mumbles, going straight for your lips before you can say anything else.

Needless to say, you didn't get very far into the discussion after that. He wouldn't let that happen. And that's okay! He can adapt! He thinks he IS being a little pushy and a little too fast for your taste. He's sooo sorry, he'll take it slower next time. In between the sloppy kisses and the very indecent ways he uses his hands to toy with you, he desperately whispers in your ear one last time before he devours you fully.

"... We're staying together forever and ever, yeah?"

"Mmphhhmm..."

[pomefioredove]

HIII DOVE:DD this is my first time requesting but, may i pls have a sugar cookie #18 with whipped cream & choc drizzle? ty!!

(btw your works & writing are totes immaculate i just want u to know that & i hope ur doing well!!)

thank you so much!!

order #18; sugar with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ nothing nice to say

tropes: exes to lovers, royalty AU characters: lilia additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not yuu, fae!reader word count: 500

"Well. This is awkward,"

There's a smile on Lilia Vanrouge that begs to differ.

You press your lips together. The words on the tip of your tongue are sour, after all.

Hundreds of years after your betrothed left you at the altar, and that's all he has to say.

"A pleasure to see you again, Vanrouge," you lie, quite obviously.

He either doesn't notice, or doesn't care.

"Please! No need for formality," he says, draping an arm around your shoulder and making himself comfortable at your side as if he has any right to be within even an inch of you, and-

You take a breath. Apathetic. Mature. You don't care about him.

"We're all old friends here, aren't we?"

"Acquaintances, perhaps," you correct him as politely as you can manage.

You're different now, after all. Older. Wiser. No longer the silly, emotional little noble you were in your youth.

You will not let him break down your walls again.

"Acquaintances," Lilia repeats the word, as if feeling it in his mouth. "Well, we don't need a label for it. So, how's life in the western woods? How're the, uh... swamps?"

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. "You might as well say what you mean, and save us both the breath,"

Lilia feigns offense, putting a hand over his heart. His scoff echoes off the stone castle walls.

"Can a man not ask about swamps?"

You refuse to dignify that with an answer, and he pouts. It's a strange look on him. Gone are the days of the haughty General, it seems.

Finally, he sighs. "It's been four... five hundreds years since we last spoke. Forgive my curiosity- I only want to know how life has treated you, my dear,"

That term of endearment sends a chill up your spine. Who is this man? Surely not the same one you were betrothed to, once.

You cross your arms. "...Well. And you?"

Lilia pouts again, now at your vague answer, the lack of gossip.

"Well... enough. I've been kept busy, you know. Children,"

You can feel your embrace tightening around yourself, fingers digging into your forearms.

"You married, then?"

"Hm...? Oh, no," Lilia chuckles. "I did not sire them, if that's what you mean to ask."

You relax. An odd relief, to know that you were his last attempt at romance.

"...My apologies for assuming, then," you say. "News does not reach the west so quickly."

"I know,"

You hate that. You hate that he remembers things, that he remembers you, and that for all you're putting into looking mature and unbothered, he can tell you're not.

Lilia had always had a way with you.

Has a way with you.

"You look just as beautiful as the day I saw you last," he says in a whisper. You can't come up with a way to respond to that.

He's standing beside you, your arms merrily linked together now.

"Well, come along. We can't keep the Prince waiting, can we? I'm sure he's very curious to hear all your stories about what I was like as a boy,"

You scoff, but still, something about him...

You may hold a grudge, but it's been long enough. A few hundred years of the silent treatment should be plenty.

Reluctantly, you smile.

"You know I'll have nothing nice to say, right?"

Lilia returns your grin and pulls you a little closer, your bodies almost touching.

"I'm counting on it, my dear,"

[radiance1]

The League tried to interrupt a summoning of a powerful being from the Infinite Realms. From the information they collected, the being isn't of the status of a royalty, but they still had to be careful as the being the summoners tried to call forth was still of noble status.

They failed.

The head cultist finished the ritual, the last words to finish the summoning left their tongue and the room was suddenly doused in heat, as black flame came to life from within the circle, twisting and turning, back and forth until a pair of red eyes suddenly flashed from inside the twisting pillar of flame and just as suddenly as the eyes appeared, was the pillar broken apart.

What was left behind was the figure of a giant phoenix, wings spread as embers black as night gently fell down to the floor below and suddenly disappearing, as if they were never there in the first place.

"Who dares to disturb-" The being started, eyes scanning the crowd below before stilling, extremely and worryingly quiet. One of them quietly cursed. "Constantine..." The creature's voice was low, dangerously low, no doubt anger in its voice as it called out the Warlock's name.

Everyone tensed, expecting something dangerous, except for the cultists, and the Head, who turned his head towards them and smiled, obviously expecting them to be reduced to not even ash.

"100 years. One. Hundred. Years." The being spoke, and confusion wormed its way into the hearts of all those present. "100 years I have waited for you, and when we finally meet once again it's not even you summoned me but these-" The creature waved a wing at the cultist below. "-These fatuous and vacuous little things."

"And what is this? You surrounded yourself with those not even of human birth before you have even thought about me?" The noble's eyes narrowed. "Did our relationship mean nothing to you?

Someone, probably not Constantine, choked.

"Well then, after all of this time you can at least make yourself useful." In a flash of black fire, Constantine was brought from within the ranks of heroes and in front of the beast, a man who seemed to be trying to-and unsuccessfully- lighting a smoke. "Ah, why do that when you have me?" The being purred, bending down to apparently light a smoke before freezing, as if remembering what exactly it was doing, but the action was already done, and Constantine was killing his lungs away.

The phoenix snapped back up to standing above everyone else, clearing its throat as if what happened decidedly didn't happen.

"What exactly did you want me to be useful for, love?" Constantine asked, expelling the smoke from his lungs and deciding that this might as well be happening. The noble huffed, folding its wings at its sides as it stared down at its apparent lover. "Take care of our son for once in your sad, pathetic life."

This time, not only did Constantine choke, but a good chunk of people there did as well. Constantine ran a hand through his hair, looking up at the phoenix incredulously. "Aren't we both men?"

The phoenix looked at his lover as if he were stupid. "Your point?"

"I-" Constantine sighed, took a breath, held, then expelled more smoke from his lungs. Apparently, he decided not to question anything anymore. "You know what? Sure, where is the little bugger?"

Over the next few moments, both the Justice League and Cultists were treated to the noble transforming into a human (still having wings) and handing over their apparent child-who looked nothing like them by being a dragon, but who were they to question the apparent reproduction of a being from the Infinite Realms- and being lectured about what not to do and what to do and how he should be cared for.

Also, a warning for his many powers.

Then the Duke stole a kiss (One that he claimed was long overdue) and left.

The room was silent, only the sounds of breathing occupying the room as the temperature was brought back down to normal levels.

A moment later, Batman walked up to the nearby cultist and punched him across the face and knocking him out cold, suddenly reminding everyone what exactly they were here for.

A while later, in the meeting room, everyone looked at Constantine. Who had a baby eastern dragon wrapped around one arm (who was apparently his child) and rubbing his temple with the other.

"I can't explain this."

===

Danny was actually not Constantine kid, neither was he Vlad's. Biologically, at the very least, however. Vlad did adopt both him and Jasmine a while back after their whole parent fiasco.

They're dead, sadly unable to become ghosts, or perhaps not so sadly.

Of course, they unfortunately outlived Jasmine, which was to be expected, but Vlad and Danny did grow close enough that they no longer viewed each other as enemies.

However, who could have expected that Danny, finally ascending to his princely status, would turn him back into a literal child because he was, for all intents and purposes, one by Dragon standards.

Utter malarkey, he would say.

Taking care of that boy was the worst few memories he has ever had. He was constantly being kept from his sleep, his work being interrupted constantly, and the child managed to find a way to leave his sight at each and every turn.

But there were some sweet moments, he would say.

It's only reasonable, however, that his lover (who he hasn't seen for an entire century might he add) share the workload.

[dog-bimbo]

Shiu with a shy virgin!reader? ^.^ *runs away*

YUMMMMMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY 😵‍💫🩷 i wrote this during my break please don't mind lol minors and ageless blogs do not interact !

when you first met shiu, you knew that he was one of those guys who wouldn't be too serious about pursuing a meaningful relationship. that's mainly because he made it abundantly clear from the start—not in a cruel way, but with a bluntness that left no room for misunderstanding. he was a busy man with a less-than-noble profession, settling down seemed absurd to him—something that had gradually turned into a foreign concept as he aged. it wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in you. in fact, he thought you were absolutely stunning. he might have said he wanted nothing serious, but the words coming out of his mouth didn’t quite align with the thoughts swirling in his head. for a guy who preferred one night stands, he was oddly passionate. you expected it to be quick and dirty by the way he parked his car at the nearest motel he could find. inside the confines of this gritty motel room, he had you sitting on his lap like a doll. the make-out session was hot and so, so, sooo steamy... slow and gentle pecks all over your face morphing into deep and passionate kisses.... his bitter tongue left you longing for all the things he could offer. and honey, he was generous. he pulls himself away from you, his face betraying all of the lust building up in his system, "fuck..." his voice is breathy and raspy, "you've not kissed many guys, have ya'?" your skittish charm gave it all away but he wasn't the one to judge you for that. it was an obligation to make your first time as special as he could and he was more than experienced for the both of you. "just..." he strengthened his grip on your waist as his other hand travelled to your inner thigh, his gentle caresses warming you up, "jus' look at me, yeah? i need you to lock your eyes with me. that's all i need." he coos as his hand reaches your panties, his thumb prodding against your clothed cunt. "communication is key, mhm? jus' tell me when it's too much." at this point, you don't know whether to focus on your heart swelling due to his sweet, considerate words or let out a guttural whimper as his thumb slides inside your panties. he's testing it, he's taking his time to find your sweet spot. you adjust yourself on his lap as he feels you up. his fingers are fucking magic—the way they stretch your insides so well, just to prep you for what's coming next... "so wet and eager," he chuckles at your expense near your ear as you squirm. you didn't seem to understand why he had specifically asked you to maintain eye contact but as his cock kisses your cervix again and again and again, you seemed to get it. it was hard to be this intimate with a person without feeling overwhelmed. it was torturous but a little bit of mental overstimulation was nothing compared to how good it felt. soon enough, you were lost. you could feel your knots getting tighter and tighter before they loosened up, making you arch your back as your squeezed around his cock. you've lost count of just how many times this man had made you cum. you could feel your brain melting out of your ears but you didn't break your promise. you kept looking at him with the fervour that he had demanded from you. "you're doin' so fucking good fo' me... so fucking tight," and the words coming out of his gritted teeth made you feel so special, so achingly good... you were close to tapping out but you needed more of it... more of his sweet words and his lengthy girth molding your pussy untouched by no one but you till this point. you loop your arms around his neck as tightly as you wrap your legs around his waist, his tongue as well as his cock diving deeper into you... and while shiu knew his shit, he was losing his mind as your gummy, tight walls milked his cock as well. you can keep riding this high forever and ever if that was a possibility, and lucky for you, he wants the same thing too, "don't think i can ever let you go..." ౨ৎ･ﾟ:*

[slackerlifewhere]

Involving kids in battles

There are a lot of opinions about Cale Henituse, formerly known as Kim Rok Soo. Some readers love him and some readers don't. Some find him funny and some think he's annoying. Some see his selflessness and some judge him as selfish.

He's a very complex character that is just tired of the bullshit the gods did to a lot of people including himself.

But the one thing that some readers do not like about him is how he includes kids in wars and battles against multiple powerful threats.

I've made a post about female characters that slightly mentions this. It can be found during On's part in the post if you're curious.

So here's the thing about the kids in TCF, or rather, the kids in Cale's group. They're strong in different ways.

And most of them, excluding Lily and Basen, are not humans.

To understand why I think their presence in battles are okay, let me first bring up Kim Rok Soo's past to understand the way he thinks.

As we all know, at least the ones who finished the first book, Kim Rok Soo did not have the best life. His parents died from a car accident when he was young and he was left to his abusive uncle. He was mostly alone with no connections to other people (for reasons you need to read about if you haven't yet) until the apocalypse (when he was a young part-timer) happened where he had to survive by himself until he became a member of a team with different abilities. He was a member who had to fight and watch people die when he was young until he's 36 years old.

He doesn't have a normal life and childhood.

'Kim Rok Soo had once had to starve in the past. He did not enjoy seeing children looking so skinny. Although Lock had always looked feeble and his tall height made him skinny from the start, he seemed even thinner now.' - Chapter 234: Something Obvious (3)

So if a person who grew up under these circumstances is suddenly thrusted into another world where anyone can die easily, what would he do?

Basen and Lily

His first reaction to the idea of Basen being sent to the plaza where Cale knows a tragedy might happen, is to agree with Deruth's idea of replacing Basen, knowing full well that his younger brother will not come back completely fine, especially since he's a normal kid. He chose to sacrifice his safety for a brother he barely knows since he recently just got transmigrated in this strange world. Basen is more fit to help in their territory than to fight in battles. And he does not see this as a weakness.

When Lily asks for a sword instead of a normal toy a child of her age would normally want, he easily agrees. This is a kid who wants to learn how to fight. He knows that there will be war coming to Roan Kingdom and their territory will be the first to face this danger. So the idea of her learning how to fight, with the mindset of someone who survived in an apocalypse, made him agree without complaints.

Raon Miru

Fast forward and he gained the trust of three children who are harmed by a tribe and a cruel noble. He pities them but also understands their pain at the same time, especially after everything he went through. He knows coddling them would not make things better since they already know how harsh the world is.

Raon is a baby dragon but he's stronger than all of the people in his group, except Eruhaben. He's a kid who easily talks about destroying the world if Cale doesn't wake up after fainting. He's a kid who wants revenge against Venion and he never let go of that anger even when he was freed by Cale and his group. He knows he's stronger than Cale and does not want to leave this "weak" human despite the strong enemies they face.

But Cale, even with this thought of "putting him to use" at first, told him to hide himself in all battles and when around strangers.

Even though he knows Raon can fight, it's obvious the little dragon will face potential problems if everyone knows there's a dragon in the group. Arm would do everything to get Raon and bring him to DHB, the nobles would probably become greedy, a lot of people will rely on him for things he shouldn't even need to do, and Raon will never be truly free from all the expectations placed on him.

He could leave Raon with Elves and Eruhaben but considering what Arm did to the elves, Eruhaben's lair, and Olienne, there are no safe places to leave him.

Cale gave him the freedom of choice. He can live freely as a dragon without trusting a human. He was fully confident that Raon will not follow him. But he did. So Raon is his responsibility now.

I made a post about liking both Cale and Reigen Arataka and I can honestly see their similarities in this part. They know the kid with them is stronger than them but they also know that fully placing all the responsibilities and expectations on this kid will ruin them.

He, like Reigen, tells his kids that it's okay to run when facing a strong opponent. That it's okay to rely and let the adults handle the hard part of the battle. He respects and relies on them when necessary and pulls them back when they face real danger.

When the White Star first appeared, Cale's first instinct was to hide Raon in his arms and to defend themselves from the man. He was also prepared to fight until Eruhaben appeared. No matter how much Raon wanted to fight, Cale kept hiding him and was genuinely scared for the dragon.

So yes, he cares for the kids in his own way but doesn't treat them in a patronizing manner.

On and Hong

Like I've mentioned in my other post, On and Hong also did not have a great childhood. They were chased from their tribe who wanted to kill them because they're "useless" and mutants.

They did not trust anyone until they met Cale who says one thing and does the opposite. They placed their trust on Cale who may appear indifferent and cold but seems to care for them by giving them bread, medicine, and meat without having expectations from them.

Some readers might find it distasteful but it's obvious that they want to be useful, no matter how small their contribution is to the fight. I think the term "useful" makes it cruel but for them, it's something to be proud of. When he first uses this term, it's when they were saving Raon. But his next instinct was to check if they're okay after infiltrating the cave.

Is it bad to let these kids fight after they escaped death? Yes and no.

They should be safe, away from harm or danger. That's normal to think about children and I agree they need safety like normal children. But once again, these kids aren't human and they are in a different world from us. They grew up in a tribe that expects them to be strong so in every opportunity, they look for ways to be strong.

That's not exactly a normal kid's way of thinking.

And again, Cale's initial indifference to everything around him is the extension of what his former life did to his psyche. He's not a normal person either. None of these characters are normal. Oddly enough, the most normal are Litana and Valentino.

And in all honesty, knowing how he thinks and respects someone's needs and wants, if they want to stay away from danger or stop fighting, there is no doubt he would accept their wishes and let them hide somewhere far away from Arm. But like Raon, they want to fight back against the tribe who wants them dead. In a sense, they also want revenge and to prove everyone that they've become strong.

Lock and the Wolf children

Lock is still a young boy, no matter how much he shoulders after the death of his tribe. I still see him as a kid like Basen.

When Lock was having troubles during the war, Cale did not scold him. Instead, he encouraged him to eat since he noticed how Lock hasn't been eating since he first learned he can't use his berserk form. He told him that he did not need to fight. His only role was to stand and protect Raon. Simple but it made Lock feel relieved and happy that Cale didn't get angry at him for being weak.

I see it as Cale just wanting him to step back and get stronger, to rely on the rest of the adults and to not worry about regressing. I can only imagine what Kim Rok Soo went through to be so wise about this kind of situation.

This part is one of the most memorable to me because of what happens at the end of the battle,

'I am the adult.

I am the guardian of these two children.

I need to take full responsibility since I chose to take them in.

I need the Super Rock's power.'

Cale, despite all his inner complaints and initial reluctance about how he's suddenly involved in a group of children's safety and protection, finally admitted how important it is that he takes full responsibility of those he took in. And the way he does it is by "sacrificing" himself.

When Lock finally overcome his fear and was about to protect Cale, Cale got annoyed and said,

"Children grow up so fast" with a pat on Lock's head.

He sounded like a father or an uncle who was proud of Lock for overcoming his obstacles. This one scene among multitudes of others made me recognize how much he cares for these children. It's happening mid-battle but it doesn't detracts the emotional value but only increases it. It was another reason why I find Cale Henituse so interesting and mesmerizing.

Conclusion

Cale Henituse, for all his self-hatred and low self-esteem, does not bring down a child or person's confidence. He gives them the choice to become strong and protects them when they're weak.

He does not force them to do anything they can't or don't want to do. He knows what he went through as Kim Rok Soo is bad and he doesn't want them to go through the same thing.

Reading between the lines made me see that there's something deeper than what Cale shows.

___

I'm not gonna lie, I sound like Clopeh at some parts whenever I write like this. I felt the same when I was writing about the female characters lmao

I'm sorry if this is so long 😅 I became too passionate about this topic. I understand the people who are worried about the kids but this is still my opinion about it.

[sp0o0kylights]

Adopt a Jock Part One / Previous Part / Part 10.1 (you are here)

A03

Chapter 10 is complete and will be fully uploaded to A03 this weekend when I can get around holiday shenanigans. It's very long so tumblr gets it in parts. I'm sure I could make a Thanksgiving food pun there if I tried hard enough but alas I am not Steve nor Dustin.

Apparently, if you stumbled into supernatural shit, you were rewarded with a mountain of legal paperwork so absurdly thick that Gareth was almost positive it included a government-approved execution clause for anyone reckless enough to speak about things better left unsaid

So, here they were: barely a week past the lab incident, eating lunch, keeping their heads down, like their entire world hadn’t been turned upside down.

(He couldn’t even appreciate the pun.)

“She keeps looking over here.” Tiff’s pen tapped out a furious rhythm, her gaze fixed on one Nancy Wheeler, “And she’s been following us.”

“Well according to Steve she knows about--you know.” Gareth said, keeping things vague in hopes it would prevent any visits from men in black suits.

“I’m sure she just wants to talk.” Jeff said with a note of sympathy.

The fucking traitor.

“I’m sure we’re not allowed to talk.” Stewart muttered darkly, pushing his peas around his lunch tray with a fork.

“Only with people who don’t already know.” Grant tried to argue, and that rapidly dissolved into an argument regarding NDA’s and tricky legal language that Gareth tuned out in favor of his new found hobby--doing his level best not to think about anything beyond his lunch and what new D&D character he wanted to play.

His last one died in the prior game, and though Eddie had--weirdly and entirely out of character--offered to revive it, Gareth had waived him off.

They needed some normalcy right now, and if that came at the cost of Gareth’s beloved druid meeting her maker, then so be it.

Plus a new character was a great distraction.

(He was set on playing a noble elf known as ‘Gregg from Accounting’, but a second dwarf named Iron the Chef had been tempting…)

“She’s coming!” Tiffany hissed, slamming her pen down.

Mourning the loss of an easy, drama free lunch, Gareth sighed and prepared himself.

“Hi.” Nancy said, announcing her presence with quiet determination, books stacked in her arms and chin raised defiantly.

No one said a word back.

“Jonathan let me know what happened, and I wanted to say that I’m sorry you got pulled into all of this.” She paused, clearly thinking her words over, before adding; “Steve, Jonathan, and I used to practice.”

Nancy stopped again, this time blatantly waiting for one of them to say something.

She got more stares in return.

“Given that things sound a little open ended, and that there were injuries, I thought it might be good to start up again. Steve suggested if we do, you all should come too.” She finished, bulldozing right through her own awkwardness.

“Practice what?” Grant asked, confused and trying to cover it with suspicion.

“Defensive measures.” Nancy answered.

Seeing their unchanged blank stares, she gathered her books in one arm, formed a finger gun with her free hand, and mimed shooting in such a deadpan manner that Gareth almost burst into disbelieving laughter.

While he was haunted by visions of Nancy Wheeler holding a gun, Tiff loudly picked her pen back up, making enough noise that all eyes went to her.

“You beat my score on Mrs. Click’s practice test by two points.”

“Uh--yes?” Nancy said, blinking at her.

Tiff's eyes narrowed. “I’m kicking your ass on the final.”

Another dumbfounded blink.

“Okay?”

“Tiff’s coping, as are we--no…defensive measures necessary.” Jeff said, in a desperate bid to soothe things over, “We appreciate the offer.”

She nodded, seemingly placated by his response. “Actually, where is Steve? I wanted to talk to him too.” Nancy asked, changing topics with ease. “I haven’t seen him all day.”

“Ah-ha.” Tiff muttered under her breath, as if catching out what Nancy really wanted.

Stewart kicked her ankle.

“He’s with Eddie.” Grant said, covering the sound of their resulting scuffle.

“He’s been spending a lot of time with Eddie lately.” Nancy noted, in that same neutral tone the Feds spoke in. All fake nice without giving a single thing away.

It was a little terrifying.

“We all spend a lot of time with each other.” Tiffany shot back, hackles very much raised and not bothering to hide it. “We’re friends. That’s what friends do.”

“Man, we are vicious today!”

“She’s really sore about that grade.” Stewart covered, offering a sympathetic pat to Tiffany’s shoulder (who looked an awful lot like she was going to bite his hand for it).

Did Nancy Wheeler even know about the weird academic rivalry Tiff had with her? Gareth took one look at Tiff’s gritted teeth, and thought better of it.

“I wouldn't be if I was able to properly finish that essay,” Tiff motioned to the now hopelessly crumpled paper underneath her pen, “ instead of rushing it because I had to pull someone out of a lab--”

“Nancy’s right.” Jeff cut in, in another desperate attempt to distract them all from eating each other. “I haven't seen much of Steve or Eddie today.”

He turned expectantly to his right. “Gary?”

Gareth frowned back at him.

“Why would I know where they are?”

“Oh,” Stewart said, far too innocently. “You haven’t realized you’re their assigned zookeeper?”

Wadding up his napkin was second nature. So was launching it at his friend's head, who expertly (and unfortunately) dodged.

“So you’re saying you don’t know?” Grant asked, a smile creeping across his face.

Gareth opened his jacket, fishing around for a moment as if he was searching for something, before pulling his hand back to show off his extended middle finger.

Pity he actually had the answer.

“They’re in the drama room. Steve sweettalked Mr. Barns into letting them set up early for Hellfire’s game.” He grumbled, ruining the entire effect.

“See?” Stewart said smugly.

With deliberate slowness, Gareth raised up his other middle finger before waving them both in a circle.

“Fuck you, fuck you--”

“Not in your lifetime.” Tiffany answered, to multiple chortles.

“Don’t bother them, Wheeler.” Gareth continued, ignoring the assholes he called friends to turn back to Nancy. “They’re setting up for the Hellfire’s last game of the year and Ed’s is a little…obsessive about it.”

As in he was known to be a complete and utter terror in the days leading up to his grand finales but Gareth wasn’t telling her that.

These games were a big deal for Hellfire as a whole. Precious things they looked forward to and the finale game was something they often worked several months, if not a solid year, to reach.

This year's game had more riding on it than any one prior. Hellfire’s shared sanity, for example, and a shining piece of normality they all found themselves desperately needing.

(Plus the problem of Eddie flunking again--and not telling anyone.

See--Eddie had been touchy the first time he hadn’t graduated and even with the appearance of monsters and government lackeys, Gareth expected this year to be even worse--but the Steve of it all added a rather explosive emotional element.

“You still have most of Hellfire.” Gareth had pointed out, when he’d hitched a ride home a few days prior and found the paper declaring Eddie’s super senior year a lost cause. “You know you’ll still have them after they graduate too, right?”

“Because they’re going to be looking forward to their old pal Eddie while in college, sure.” Had been the clipped response.

“They will.” Gareth said, with a level of assurance he hoped Eddie could feel. “And if that’s the concern, then you’ll definitely still have Steve.”

Who hadn’t gotten into college, and openly admitted to refusing to try now that monsters were back.

“I guess.” Eddie had said, looking like a deflated party balloon.

In typical Munson fashion, he seemed to realize he was giving away more “real feelings” than he’d intended too, and changed the subject with an energy that Gareth knew was fake.

He hadn’t called him out on it though, and equally, he had not called out the mania Eddie had slowly been succumbing to since that fateful day. He’d get over it--Gareth knew he’d get over it--if they could just make it past the point where Eddie’s own brain informed him the world was ending to prove it.)

All of them deserved a break, and a place to put aside all the stupid shit and simply have a good time, and heading off Steve’s nosey ex-girlfriend before she could cause problems would go a long way to help.

“I’m sure they can spare two minutes.” Nancy was saying, mid creation of the exact problem Gareth was hoping to avoid.

“No--uh,” He flailed about for a reason she couldn’t, and the longer she frowned at him the more his brain simply vanished all forms of higher thought. “Don’t?”

Nancy’s expression soured, mouth twisting in a line Gareth very much did not like. “I’m sure they--”

“Tell us what other things you practice. Besides, you know. The pews.” He interrupted frantically.

Under the table his foot struck out, and though he had no idea who he’d struck he hoped whoever it was understood what exactly he was trying to do.

“The pews?” Nancy echoed, after a painfully long moment.

“You know? Pews!” Gareth mimed a gun, and then made “pew” noises while firing it.

Besides him, Jeff gave a very Harrington-like sigh.

(He’d been doing that a lot lately, Gareth made a mental note to mock him for it.)

“You cannot tell me you guys only practice with guns.” Tiffany huffed. She had not been the kicked party, but thankfully, hadn’t needed the nudge to catch on. “What happens if you run out of bullets?”

Nancy gave her an odd, almost calculating look.

“We use whatever else we have on hand.” She said flatly.

Which just boded so fucking well for the rest of this conversation (and Gareth’s life, given he was uncomfortably aware of the things that went bump in the night.)

“Well, give us an example.” Tiff continued, and given the now increasingly concerned looks that the rest of Hellfire was darting between her and Nancy, Gareth knew the rest of his idiots hadn’t caught on.

On a piece of paper he scrawled--and the underlined twice, for good measure;

‘Go. Find. Byers!’

--and then chucked it at Grant’s head. Who thankfully opened it, even if he made a face while doing so, before proceeding to pass the note around as Tiff and Nancy traded increasingly pointed words about weapons training.

“When you’re in a situation, you use whatever you have on hand. I would assume you knew this, given what I heard happened the other day.”

“Yes, but wouldn’t it make more sense to train and carry with backup weapons rather than just hoping you find something on the way? What if the--what if we’d been in the woods?”

Gareth watched the note travel from person to person, until it was dropped back in front of him.

‘You go find him.’ Someone had scrawled, followed by multitudes of doodles, two of which featured army-hat wearing dicks driving tanks.

Then and there, he decided that perhaps his friends truly did deserve death should a similar situation arise in the future.

Useless. They were all useless.

“You’re welcome to make a suggestion, Tiffany.”

“I will. I’ll make a list even.”

“Good.” Nancy smiled, with all her teeth.

“Fine.” Tiff returned, looking half feral.

Was this some type of weird mating ritual between academic types? God, they were scary.

‘Well, that definitely won’t come back to bite us in the ass.’ Gareth thought wryly as Nancy stormed off in the opposite direction of the drama room, tapping the note against the table. He glanced at the rest of the group, who appeared to be attempting to tempt Tiff out of her snit by way of asking her what dramatic bullshit she thought Eddie would be pulling in the finale.

If nothing else, he decided, they’d prevented ruining Eddie’s day--and possibly, their entire night.

Nothing, save more fucking monsters or equally evil government lackeys could manage that.

(Pity that Gareth had forgotten the third most powerful force on the planet when it came to wrecking plans.

Middle schoolers.)

xXx

The day had dragged but they'd made it, and Eddie in turn, had made that wait worth their while.

The lights in the drama room were low.

The entire table had been set up with such care and drama that Gareth almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Goblets lined both sides, each filled with a dark red liquid Gareth knew damn well could not be wine.

Candles--real ones, had been lit, casting shadows across Eddie’s face as he lounged in his throne, a master in their element.

A castle, meticulously crafted out of wooden sticks and painted a dark, forbidding gray towered in front of Eddie down at the end, with the layout of the insides crawling down the table atop carefully gridded paper.

Monstrous figurines stood in a row off to the side, like little soldiers, planted right in front of a plain, if not comically large, cardboard box.

It was elaborate, meticulous, and half the items had clearly been stolen from Steve’s house, if not outright decorated by the man’s own hand.

“Welcome, my friends.” Eddie purred, breaking the spell that had fallen over Hellfire.

“Oh my God.” Grant breathed, jostling Gareth’s shoulder as he pushed inside.

“Dude, you outdid yourself!” Stewart added, voice awed as he took it all in.

“He had help.” Steve confirmed, materializing at Eddie’s shoulder. He leaned forward, adjusting something in front of Eddie, ignoring the immediate angry swat and hissed warnings about “ruining the moment, Steven!”

“Glad to see you putting your mom’s party planning skills to good use.” Jeff teased, but no one missed the way he ran a hand down the table, staring giddily at the spread.

Steve gave him a shrug, but even in the dim light Gareth could see how pleased he looked.

It was magical, and Gareth felt something come alive in his chest that he’d privately thought the manticore had killed.

A childish sort of excitement, bubbling up as he realized he was about to have a damn fine time.

This, of course, is when the actual children came in.

“I made a timeline.” Dustin announced, shouldering his way in between Jeff and Grant to slam down a massive piece of paper.

“Oh my God where did you come from!?” Stewart yelped, started as more and more children suddenly swarmed Hellfire’s table.

“The middle school is literally next door. We walked.” Max rolled her eyes as she took a seat next to Tiffany. “What idiot let you guys light candles in here?”

El fell in right next to her, stealing what was clearly intended to be Grant’s chair.

Who looked like he’s about to say something about it until he caught sight of her delighted face.

Gareth would have laughed at the obvious way Grant’s shoulders slumped as he accepted his fate, if his own chair hadn’t just been usurped by Michael Wheeler.

“A timeline?” Steve asked, before Eddie could surge to his feet and kick the brats out.

(They all watched him jerk anyway, like he’d intended to do just that and barely caught himself.)

“Uh, everything?” Dustin scoffed, waving a beat up folder in the air. “We took it all the way back to when we first met El.”

Next to him, Lucas had stepped up to the table, running a hand down it in much the same way Jeff had. “We decided it might help us figure out where the manticore came from.” He said absently.

A riot of emotion exploded over Steve’s face, made all the funnier by the fact that it was entirely at odds with the setup he’d so lovingly created.

“I’m sorry, did we not hear the Chief of Police? He’s investigating this, our involvement is over.” Steve made a slashing motion with his hand, as if that would hold them all off.

(Gareth, who once watched all of these children fight each other over an arcade score for three consecutive days, knew it was a lost cause.)

Dustin made yet another scoffing sound in return.

Given how often he seemed to make them, Gareth wondered if he had problems with a sore throat.

“I thought we all widely agreed Hop’s investigation skills are terrible.”

“Hello?” Stewart said irritably. “We were about to get started?”

Eddie swung himself into a sitting position and made like he was going to stand up, likely to pounce on the opening Stewart had just given.

Pity Steve once again, beat him there.

“Yes, but he’s not investigating, is he? We,” Hellfire’s jock made another motion, this one a circular twirl of the hand. Gareth was starting to wonder if the gestures are directly linked to his stress level. “already did that part. He can now do the part he’s good at, which is fixing it.”

“He’s not good at fixing it, look at what happened with the demodogs!”

It was at this moment Gareth made his fatal mistake. In hindsight, he should have known better than to ask out loud,

“Okay, can someone please explain what the hell’s a demodog?”

Several protests, groans, and pencils are flung his way for it.

(“Do you know how often that word has been thrown around!?” He’d defend much, much later. “You guys keep saying it but not what they are!”

“If you stopped eavesdropping all the time maybe you wouldn’t be wondering about such things.” Eddie had responded snidely.

“It’s not my fault you keep talking about this shit when I’m right there you asshat--”)

“What, you didn’t think there were actually feral dogs in Hawkins did you?” One of the kids asks incredulously, like he can’t possibly believe anyone is so stupid as to buy into it.

“They were like the manticore, but small and more, well, doggish.” Dustin dismissed, this time with a Harrington flavored hand waive of his own. “Ask Steve, he was there.”

Gareth turned to do just that, D&D campaign be damned (He would not apologize for wanting to know what else might be out to kill them all even if the finale was technically on, sue him) to find Steve had slipped right into mother hen mode.

“No.” He spat, charging forward as he flapped his arms around, like the children are a flock of birds he can scare away. “You are not sucking anyone into this, and we are not getting involved! You heard Hop!”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a coward, Steve.”

“I’m not a coward, I’m someone who doesn’t need another near death experience! There’s not a reward if you have five in a row, dickheads.”

Seething and not bothering to hide it, Eddie picked up the massive gold goblet in front of him and took an obnoxiously loud sip out of it.

“I’m also going to remind you that Henderson here,” Steve stopped behind Dustin to rattle his, “is going to camp in a few days? I believe the rest of you also have similar engagements.”

It was Mike’s turn to scoff.

“Lucas is only in summer school until 3 and camp doesn’t start for another two weeks. We have plenty of time!”

“It’s not summer school,” Lucas protested, eyes darting to Max and back as if she wasn’t aware the kid was a nerd. “It’s a creative writing program--”

“Yeah, well, the rest of us are busy.” Steve fired back. “So any theories you have, you can take and shove right up your ass.”

“Why is it always the ass with you Steve? Do you have an ass fixation?”

Gareth watched as Eddie immediately choked on the dyed Mountain Dew he had been chugging down, hacking so hard tears welled in his eyes.

Jeff shared a pained look with Gareth over the table as Grant pounded him on the back.

“I do not have an ass fixation, Henderson--”

“Okay.” Tiffany clapped her hands together, the sound ringing out throughout the drama room.

“Here’s the deal. Summer break is two days away. Steve is right--most of us here are working, if not preparing to go to college. No one needs to go snooping around where we aren’t wanted, and we definitely do not need anymore injuries. Kapeesh?”

Henderson immediately turned on her. “So we’re just gonna trust the guys who fucking started all this!?”

“Given they also have better ways of handling it, yes. We are. Hopper told them about Stewarts goo, they sent some suits in to kill the manticore, and thanks to El’s heads up we caught things ahead of time for once. Can’t we just enjoy that?” Steve was beyond worked up now, repeatedly running his hands through his hair, only to fix it, pick at it, and then repeat the process again. “For fucks sake Dustin, Eddie just stopped limping!”

“I don’t think it’s over.” Mike muttered angrily, pushing a finger against Tiffany’s water bottle.

She grabbed it before it toppled over, glaring at him.

“El, do you feel anything?” Steve spoke like he was invoking a god and not an undersocialized twelve year old.

“No.” She admitted, after a long almost uncomfortable pause. “I do not.”

Steve pointed at her victoriously. “There you go!”

“But--”

“No more buts!” Steve shrieked, before seemingly to realize he’d done so. He coughed, and then said; “I thought you dorks would be storming in here trying to get Eddie to DM for you, not harassing us about the Upside Down.”

“You guys are playing D&D?” Lucas asked, as if he hadn’t been salivating over the spread for the last five minutes.

“I really like your cleric.” Will said quietly to Jeff, having leaned over to look at his character sheet at some point during the argument.

“Will, aren’t you a Dungeon Boss?” Steve asked, to the horror of those around him. “Why don’t you go sit by Eddie, I’m sure you’d enjoy seeing how he does stuff.”

A wince rippled through the members of Hellfire.

There was simply no way Eddie Munson, a man known to be possessive at best, would ever allow any of them to even glance at his notebook, let alone his entire spread laid bare behind his screen.

Those were his secrets--the result of too many late nights and an easy contributor to his failing high school yet again--and this was the grand finale.

Steve sitting next to Eddie had been miraculous enough--and that was with Eddie actively demanding he sit there, in a vain attempt to drag Steve out of his issues.

Fearing the worst, Gareth snuck a glance at their glorious--and notoriously ridiculous--leader.

Eddie sucked on his teeth, the noise painfully loud in the abrupt silence, eyes on Byers the Younger before they drifted back to Steve.

Who clearly had no idea he’d put his foot in it.

Tiff looked ready to break a pencil, eyes glaring a hole in Eddie’s head as if daring him to disappoint the group's golden retriever while Grant, Jeff and Stewart had all magically found something else to look at.

Gareth himself hunkered down, waiting to see how this would play out.

One more painful, pulsing second and then Eddie seemed to come to a decision, rolling out his hand and gesturing Will closer.

“Indeed Baby Byers,” He dropped into one of his many DM voices, something deep but alluring. “come closer and learn from the master of masters. Perhaps you’ll find something here to take back to your own campaigns. Something truly…terrible.”

He waggled his eyebrows at Dustin as Will’s Party groaned, though none of them put up much of a fuss once they saw the sheer smile that overtook Will’s face.

With the unique combination of embarrassment and pride, Will took his place next to Eddie.

Steve beamed in the corner, clearly pleased with himself and it was not lost on Gareth (or anyone else in the know) that Eddie preened only after sneaking an obvious look at Steve’s face.

“God he has it bad.” Stewart muttered, only to hiss when Jeff not so subtly jabbed him with a pen.

Gareth just shook his head, and gave Eddie a grin that said he would absolutely be getting shit for this later.

“Stevie, be a dear and fetch more chairs would you?” Eddie drawled, as he settled back into his throne, baby Byers happily checking out the items he had laid out behind his DM screen.

Which Gareth supposed was Steve’s punishment for inviting the kids along, but then, Eddie may as well have been bossing the jock around all day regardless given the look of the place.

(He’d certainly taken advantage of doing just that while his leg had been healing.)

That was their mess though, and Gareth happily put all thoughts of monsters, murder, men in black and every other awful M word aside to inside pull out his luckiest D20 die.

“Hellfire,” Eddie boomed as the all finally settled, “It's time to show the kiddies how it's done. Let’s roll!”

“And Dustin bitches at me for my puns.” Steve loudly complained as he came back into the room with chairs.

Eddie shushed him again.

[cerys-scribbles]

sweet on the tongue

Halsin x f!Reader A bit of fluff and yearning Wordcount: 1.5k

You always looked over the abandoned wagons and backpacks. 

It was an old habit, born of a time when coin was scarce. You’ve always had an eye for shiny things - the gleam of jewelry, the graceful curve of a gem, and the glitter of a bottle. You never knew when you might find a small treasure.

Some of the others mocked you for it. Astarion, in particular, seemed to enjoy the sight of you rummaging through crates. “Your pack is so full you’ll have to find a rothe to carry it,” he called, that crooked grin tugging at his mouth. 

“I can carry my own pack,” you replied, with a dismissive wave. “And what do you care?”

“Merely concerned for your posture, darling. If you become a hunched over crone in your thirties, it would be a tragedy.” 

You snorted. “That’s rich, coming from the one with the outdated vocabulary and the white hair.”

He placed a hand over his heart in mock indignation. “It’s not white, it’s silver.”

“Children,” called Gale. “You’re going to get left behind if you dawdle.”

The others had continued on. The path wound through the mountains, toward the Githyanki creche. Lae’zel was far ahead, her long strides carrying her forward with a grim determination. It was no wonder she was eager; the prospect of ridding yourself of the tadpole was an intriguing one. But even so, you felt the pull to pick through every crate. 

Your diligence was rewarded when you found a gleam of gold tucked within a sack. You pulled it free. It was a jar.

“Come on!” called Astarion, and you hastily shoved the jar into your own pack. You would look at it more closely later. 

*

It was hours after, once camp had been set up, that you investigated your finds. You picked through the small trinkets, sorting through which ones could be sold and which ones discarded. You were so single-minded that you didn’t notice the smells of food or call to dinner. It was only when someone stood over you that you looked up. 

Halsin towered over you. The sunset gave his hair a golden cast, and he was smiling. “You’ve been busy,” he said mildly.

You sat back, only now feeling the ache in your lower back. “Oh. I was distracted.” You gestured at the piles of trinkets, feeling mildly embarrassed. Would he think it was silly? “Did I miss dinner?”

“I set some aside for you.” Halsin put the plate down on a fallen log. It looked like a surprisingly tasty stew. “It’s a little cold.” 

“I don’t mind,” you said. “Thanks for bringing it.” It shouldn’t have surprised you that Halsin was the one to notice you weren’t eating; he was observant in camp, quiet and watchful. His tent was pitched along the outskirts. Part of you wondered if it was because he wished to remain near nature or to make himself the first line of defense should anyone attack camp. It was likely both. 

He squatted down, eyeing your finds. “May I ask what it is you’re doing?” He reached out, gently sifting through the knotted chains and one half of an earring.

You flushed. “I just… you might have noticed I tend to pick things up.”

“I had noticed, yes,” he said, a touch of dry humor in his voice. But there was no mockery to it. “Do you sell them?” 

You shrugged. “It helps. I can buy a little food, maybe weapons or medicine for camp. We can hunt, of course, but we still need things. And it’s not as though we have a noble patron.” You snorted. “Well, we do have Wyll, but I know he’d protest that title.”

“He would,” agreed Halsin. “He seems far more happy being the Blade of Frontiers rather than a duke’s son.” He tilted his head, gaze flicking over the assortment of trinkets. “Can I help?”

“I mean,” you said, “you don’t have to.”

“I want to.” His gaze met yours and you felt another flush rise to your cheeks. “It’s better to have something to do with one’s hands.”

You both began to work, untangling chains of necklaces and sorting through your findings. There were coins from several cities, jewelry that was junk and one piece that might sell, along with forgotten letters. You set those aside. “I’ll give them to a messenger or the like if we reach Baldur’s Gate,” you said, when you caught Halsin’s eye. “Maybe those letters will reach their destination.”

“That’s kind of you, to carry them without any hope of reward.” 

You gave him a little shrug. “It’s not as though they weigh very much.”

“Still,” he said. “You have a good heart.”

Your cheeks burned even hotter. Halsin disarmed you in a way that none of the other companions could. There were no deceptions, no games to played, no secrets to ferret out. Halsin was simply… Halsin. He was undemanding and kind. 

And all right. He was gorgeous—you’d admit that to yourself. You’d had a few fantasies of him picking you up and kissing you, but you tried to tamp them down. You didn’t want your desires to leak into your conversations and make him uncomfortable. You were friends and that was more than enough.

Finally, you pulled out the jar. You had almost forgotten about it. “What is that?” asked Halsin. 

You held it up to the fading sunlight. “Preserves, I think. Whether or not they’re edible… well, I’m not sure how we find out.”

Halsin chuckled. “Opening it would be the first step.”

It took a knife and a fair bit of prying to get the jar open, but the moment you did, your mouth watered. 

Raspberries floated in a thick, golden liquid. They had been preserved in honey. The sweet scent floated out of the jar and you swallowed. 

“Well, well,” said Halsin. “A pleasing find, if my opinion matters.”

You remembered what he had said when you tried to get to know him better: that he enjoyed sweet things. “You can have it,” you said, holding out the jar. 

He shook his head, a smile on his lips. “We’ll share it.”

You didn’t have a spoon, but Halsin had a few carved ones in his pack. He unearthed it and you gasped. It was intricate and beautiful—a woven pattern made up the handle. “It’s gorgeous.” You knew he whittled, but this was a work of art.

He looked pleased but embarrassed. “I’ve had much practice. It’s yours, if you like it.”

You dipped the spoon into the honeyed raspberries. Then you popped the spoon into your mouth. Tart sweetness spilled across your tongue. You closed your eyes and moaned softly. Perhaps you should have found a loaf of bread or something else to cut the cloying sweetness, but you did not care. It had been weeks since you enjoyed anything so luxurious. 

 “Oh, it’s amazing,” you said, holding out the jar to Halsin. “Try some.”

His gaze was not on the jar—but on you. “You have some,” he said quietly, holding out his hand. “May I?”

You didn’t know what you were agreeing to, but even so you nodded. You trusted him. 

His thumb—warm and callused—slid across your chin. A small tendril of honey had stuck there. “Oh,” you said, laughing a little. “That’s embarrassing.”

“Not at all.” He licked the honey from his thumb—and you could have sworn his pupils dilated as he looked at you. “It tastes all the sweeter.”

Heat churned in your stomach. You knew you should break that gaze, look away before this became all too intimate, but you didn’t want to. Your breaths quickened, and you thought you saw his gaze fall to your mouth. Was he going to kiss you? At once, your lips ached for it. You needed his touch more than you needed air or warmth or even a cure. 

His fingers brushed your cheek. But before he could utter a word, a voice rang out from across camp. 

“I can see you eating something over there!” called Astarion. “If you get sick from fare you found along the road, I am not carrying your pack.”

The mood was broken in an instant. You looked down, half-wondering if you had imagined the moment. 

“You won’t have to,” called Halsin sounding as good-natured as ever. “I’ll carry it for her.”

You swallowed. Perhaps you hadn’t imagined it, after all. 

End

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 15

part 1 | part 14 | ao3

“Please please please please pleeeeease,” Dustin whines, tugging hard on the hem of Steve’s shirt.

“Dude get off me.” He slips the last of the leftover containers into the fridge, slams the door shut, and turns to glare at Dustin, who oh-so-conveniently had to step out after dinner to ‘walkie Lucas about a homework question’ and left Steve and Eddie to do the washing up.

In the absence of a Henderson buffer, the air between them had pretty immediately gone stale. Hesistant and charged, overly formal; fucking weird. Eddie moves like a weirdo, sways his hips out of the way of counter corners instead of walking a straight path, like some swaggering drunken pirate, and he spent the last ten minutes awkwardly traipsing around the perimeters of the kitchen as if Steve were a landmine he might set off at any time.

So yeah.

Steve’s feeling a little ungracious at the moment. “Seriously, what is so important that you can’t just show it to us tomorrow?”

“Ummm, scientific discovery? Wonder at the natural world around us?? Where’s your sense of adventure, Steve?”

“The last time I followed my sense of adventure out to your cellar I almost got—” His eyes cut sharply to Eddie, who’s doing a terrible job of pretending not to eavesdrop. Steve scrambles for a way to end his sentence that isn’t eaten by a creature with a razor flower for a face. “—uh, mauled.”

“Mauled?” Eddie asks, eyes bugging out. “Henderson, I’m not following you into the woods to get to turned into some feral thing’s chew toy, man.”

“It was fine,” Dustin insists, covertly kicking Steve in the shin.

Steve thinks of his NDAs and plays along. “Y-yeah. Totally fine. It was just, like, a rabid raccoon or something.”

“That… does not sound fine.”

“It’s cool,” Steve tries to reassure him (no idea why, really; that cellar’s nightmare fuel.) He throws a dish towel over his shoulder, nods his head decisively. “I’ll bring my nail bat with us.”

“You’ll fucking bring your what?”

—

Steve drags his nail bat through the leaves on the narrow trail, the wood thudding along behind him as they make their way to the cellar, a detached storm shelter at the far edge of the lot. It’s dark out here. And cold. His breath hangs in a puff of wet fog when he mutters, “Seriously, Dustin, this better be Noble Prize worthy stuff.”

“It’s Nobel,” Eddie says.

“Huh?”

“The, uh- the prize? It’s No-bel.”

“….Well, that’s stupid.”

“Why would it be Noble?” Eddie snorts, but his eyes are curious and kind.

“Because— because you have to be Noble to earn it? I don’t know!” Eddie laughs like he finds the answer cute. Steve doubles down. “That makes perfect sense, and you know it. A Noble Prize for a Noble Effort. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong,” Dustin grunts as he unlocks the cellar doors. “Now come on.”

—

The cellar's just as creepy as Steve remembers: low ceiling, dusty cement blocks, a single, sad lightbulb dangling on a string. He eyes the dark corner on the far side of the squat room, bricked up now but it wasn't before; there were tunnels under here, once, vast networks like blood vessels to the beating heart of a monster Steve still can't fully comprehend. He grips the bat a little tighter.

"—Shit," Dustin says suddenly, cutting himself off mid-ramble about how cool his latest science project is, how it puts Cerebro to shame. "I forgot the remote." "You want me to go get it?" Steve offers. "No!" Dustin says it in a rush, then stammers, "No, that's okay. You won't know what to look for." He seems nervous. Jittery. Maybe the cellar creeps him out, too. "Be right back, just wait here."

"Grreeeat," Eddie replies as Dustin jogs back up the stairs, cupping his hands around his mouth to call sarcastically after him, "We'll just be loitering in your murder basement, then; take your time!"

With Dustin gone, there’s nothing to do but stand there metaphorically twiddling their thumbs. Steve’s idly swinging his bat in a wide sweep around his calves, and Eddie’s staring at the ground, scuffing the toe of his shoe into a streak of dirt, arms crossed over his chest, head bowed. He’s humming something that Steve can't quite make out, but it doesn't sound like the stuff he usually blasts from his van. It's softer. Easy. Almost pop.

“Hey, wait a sec...” Steve holds up a finger, turning his good ear toward the stairs. The leafy crunch of footsteps isn’t getting any quieter, and now it sounds like there are two pairs, getting louder; circling back. “You hear that?”

Eddie nods. Looks serious and spooked. Steve raises his bat, a sudden spike of fear; he creeps over to the stairs. “Hey,” he calls to the darkness. The rustling noise picks up, a swish of movement through the brush, and then the crrrrroak of something metal. Something heavy, groaning on its—

Hinges. Hinges. Son of a bitch, the cellar doors. “Hey!” he shouts, breaking into a run. “HEY—!”

BOOMMMM.

The doors slam shut with a heavy crash and the grating clink of more metal scraping metal. Steve bolts up the stairs, shoves with all his strength against the slanted doors above him. The doors don’t budge. “What the fuck?” Eddie shouts from the bottom of the stairs.

Steve pounds against the doors. “HENDERSON?”

Eddie comes up to join him, using his forearms like battering rams to try to bash the doors open. His voice cracks when he hollers, “Henderson, for real, man! I-if this is some kinda- some kinda sick fucking joke it isn’t funny!!”

“It’s for your own good!!” a voice that isn’t Dustin yells through the gap in the doors, and Eddie squawks, “MIKE?”

Mike?? MIKE?? Oh, that goddamned ungrateful, conniving little—

“We just wanted you two to talk to each other!” Mike says.

Dustin adds, “For real this time."

“Yeah, for real this time!”

Steve punches the doors, and Eddie bares his teeth like he can scorch a hole through the metal with the heat of his glare alone. “Wheeler, you are SO dead!!”

“So fucking dead!!!” Steve agrees.

---

part 16

tag list below the cut, comment if you want to be added tomorrow (or dm me if you want to be removed)

@acedorerryn @ahsokatanoss @annabanannabeth @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awolfstudio @bananahoneycomb @bronwenmarie @burymestanding @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @courtjestermunson @cr0w-culture @cuips-not-cute @dawners @dontwasteyourchances @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @eriquin @estrellami-1 @evillittleguy @fandomfix8 @foolofentirelytoomanyfandoms @goodolefashionedloverboi @gregre369 @griefabyss69 @grtwdsmwhr @heartsong18 @hellion-child @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @jaytriesstuff @littlebluejane @lololol-1234 @marklee-blackmore @messrs-weasley @nburkhardt @noodle-shenaniganery @novelnovella @perseus-notjackson @ppunkpuppyy @runninriot @sadcanadianwinter @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @spookednsaucy @steddieas-shegoes @steddie-island @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection

[racingghost]

please......please....... knight seb....... pleas.e share...

Somehow I knew you'd have my back ahaha

So, about this AU + snippet

For anyone who isn't comrade @backmarkerr over there, every AU I have is basically OUR AU. Mine and Max. Mi casa tu casa and all that.

So in this one, Kimi's a prince, and Seb is a Knight from a very stern order (Red Bull Order) who is assigned to protect him. Red Bull Order knights are very strong, capable, and known to be these legendary, cold-faced warriors.

They're also massive virgins, because of their strict vows. They're trained from a very early age to form little attachment to people, and have as little personality as possible.

So that's the context, here's the snippet...

---------------------------------

Sebastian Vettel was an attentive man, who took credence to any gossip he heard. His caution always served him well, as the word on the street was often more perceptive and accurate than the stories nobles and courts tried to pass as truth. Pretense was not a commoner concern.

With that said, while Prince Raikkonen’s favoring of men wasn’t by any means a new rumor, Sebastian found himself questioning it for the first time.

It seemed that his young royal’s visit to the brothels wasn’t going to show any sort of decorum, but contrary to what he was expecting at the beginning of the night, that had nothing to do with men as a preference, and everything to do with… well…

A loud, ecstatic moan vibrated through the door he was guarding, as if on cue.

Whether the prince liked women or not, it was certain that women very much liked him. To add to the embarrassment, the explicit sounds were something Sebastian never heard before in his life, which for a man his age was bordering on preposterous. They had an effect on him, one that left him feeling too hot under the collar and all the same relieved his clothes were heavy and dense.

“Ahem.” A cough at his side made him glance at Heikki Kovalainen, a fellow knight, albeit from no remarkable order. “Plan is going well, huh?”

Sebastian didn’t respond, instead pressing his lips firmly together.

“You know she’s being theatrical right?” Heikki glanced at Vettel with a smug face, as if he could smell his inexperience from a mile away.

“What?” Sebastian reacted, unable to help himself.

“The moans, the shouts. She’s doing her little performance too, no offense to the prince.”

“I wonder what the prince will think when I relay him your words.”

Heikki only scoffed at the threat, as if he wasn’t concerned with that at all.

“He’s probably thinking the same as me.” He leaned a bit closer to Sebastian. “As far as preferences go, he tends to like them more quiet. More discrete.”

“This might be one of the few things I don’t have to know about him.” Sebastian replied, feeling his face warm to a noticeable degree.

“God, you’re a prude.” Heikki leaned back to where he was, as another pleasured shout came from the room. “Guess it’s true what they say of the mighty Bulls.”

If only he were a tortoise, Sebastian would have hidden his face inside his shell as he so wanted to. Unfortunately, his lack of response didn’t stop Heikki from bringing up the inevitable.

 “You’re all virgins.” Oh the grin in his voice.

“You must find trips to the brothel to be better than committing to honorable vows then.” Sebastian defended himself. He tried to sound as snotty nosed as a true Holy Knight would have felt, but next to an older peer he only sounded juvenile, even to his own ears.

“Nothing honorable about blue balling yourself.” Heikki laughed. “What are you, a nun? Even those escape the convent some nights…”

“Don’t speak heresies…”

“Well I’ll let you know right now, if a girl moans the moment you touch her waist, she likes your wallet more than you.”

“I would never!”

“Pay for it? Because I hope you get to experience it someday. It’s what makes a man, a man.”

While Sebastian kept a sour glare towards Heikki, deep within himself he couldn’t lie and say he hadn’t thought of it. Especially now, with all the noises coming from behind that door.

He wondered how it would be to see a naked woman, see her large breasts and nothing between her legs. He twitched his fingers as he imagined how it would be to touch fleshy thighs and see the fat and muscle in them move beneath his hands.

Sebastian’s only point of comparison was seeing a sharp blade effortlessly glide through meat and even bone. He was curious, certainly, but he wasn’t yearning for it.

However, the thought of Kimi in there changed it from pure anatomy to something more. There, Sebastian had a point of reference. He saw Kimi’s body when he was wounded and needed to be cleaned and bandaged, he felt the strength of his arm around his waist, he witnessed the droplets of sweat sliding down his neck when it was too hot outside.

The muscles he saw still and bruised, how would they look in action? Pulling and tensing with movement, putting their strength to use by holding this woman in position? How would he look naked? Not vulnerable, but confidently naked?

A hint of a response came from the room once again, a loud and stretched out cry that sounded as ecstatic as it was out of breath.

No matter how much Heikki babbled, that one didn’t sound fake at all.

[anxiousthoughts365]

Friendship

Disabled Remus, language, Snape bashing

'Fuck off, Snape.'

'It's a simple enough question, Potter,' Snape drawled, jogging to keep pace with James, who was stomping down corridor after corridor in an effort to get rid of the boy. 'Why would Regulus come to you, of all people, when he was so clearly distraught when his own brother did just that two years ago? Rather suspicious, don't you agree?'

James clenched his teeth against the retort that tried to claw it's way out of his throat. Snape had been following him since he'd somehow let slip about Regulus coming to live with them over the past summer, determined to find out why Regulus had chosen James as his refuge. But his and Regulus' relationship wasn't common knowledge, and there was nothing he could say that wouldn't give Snape some sort of fodder, so he was doing his best to just stay quiet.

James still couldn't quite remember how Snape had gotten him talking about the younger Black brother while they'd been forced into a partnership in Potions class, but of course Snape had latched onto the tiny tidbit of information and was running with it.

He'd calmly told the Slytherin, more than once, that it wasn't his story to tell. But the slimy boy just would not let the matter drop, and he was really starting to piss James off. The only thing keeping him from punching Snape in the mouth was that Remus, Sirius and Peter were right behind him, and the knowledge helped him to keep his cool. Almost.

'Unless, of course,' Snape sneered, relentless as ever when it came to riling James Potter. 'There's reason why he might run into the arms of someone that his family hates? Unless there's some deeper connection here, something that the young Black might not want everyone to see?'

'I said fuck off, Snivellus!' James snapped, his heart racing with sudden fear at the insinuation. One more taunt, and Merlin help him, he wouldn't be able to hold himself back.

'Oh, that's it, isn't it?' Snape gasped, pressing one hand over his heart in mock surprise while his thin lips turned up in a sly smirk. 'Regulus Black, the second sibling in this school to desert the Noble House of Black, goes running at the first sign of danger, and runs right into the arms of his big strong saviour and -'

Snape's words were suddenly cut off by a sharp screech, and James' head snapped up to see the boy falling face-first down the set of stairs to their left. He gaped, looking around him to try and figure out what had happened, and turned just in time to watch Sirius wrap an arm around Remus' waist as the tall boy wobbled. It wasn't until the end of his friend's cane connected with the floor again that James understood what had happened.

'Vile little cockroach,' Remus growled, his amber eyes narrowed and his scarred nose scrunched up in distaste as he watched Snape bounce down step after step, whining all the way. James felt something tighten in his chest, gratitude and admiration welling inside him.

'Moony,' he breathed. 'Did you just -'

'He did,' Sirius interrupted, sounding just as awed as James felt. Remus looked up again at his boyfriend's voice, and seemed surprised to find the others staring at him with such evident worship. Then Sirius was stepping in close, wrapping his other arm around Remus and gazing at him as he added, 'That was bloody brilliant, Moons. Merlin, I love you. So fucking much. I -'

'Yes, yes, we all love Remus,' Peter hissed, grabbing Sirius' collar and dragging him backwards, in the direction of the Gryffindor Tower. 'You can give our comrade his well-deserved reward later - preferably when I'm asleep and oblivious - but right now, we need to be very much not here.'

Sirius seemed about to protest, but at that moment Snape landed in a noisy heap at the bottom of the stairs, and the four boys made quick use of their extensive knowledge of Hogwarts' secret passageways to disappear.

[captainlunaxmen]

Dragon's Healer

Chapter 2

Daemyra x Fem!reader

Dark!Aemond x fem!reader

Hello!!! Hope you're having a good day!

Here's the second chapter of my HOTD fic. I changed the age of a few characters, and I definitely took some liberty in some lore things😂 but not so much as to change the story itself. Don't worry. Once again let me know what you think, and if you want to be added to the tag list 😘

Chapter summary: Tensions are present at King's Landing like never before, even the small glimpse of hope might not be enough.

Chapter warnings: character's death (you know who),non consensual touching.

Tag list

@k1ttybean

@tojisrealwifey

@sinarainbows

Aemond smiles at me, and I take a moment to fully observe him. He's taller, that's for sure, his jaw is more defined than I remembered, hair longer too.

"Am I that unrecognisable?" He jests.

"No... well.. yes," I say, completely at loss for words, "I left you a boy and now look at you."

He shyly smiles as he nears, nearly towering over me.

"I heard about your arrival and wanted to say hi myself." He admits, he keeps hid hands behind his back, soldier stance.

"That's nice of you, Aemond." I smile at him and can't help but look at the scar on his face, "did you put those oils like I told you?"

"Of course." He nods.

"That's good to know." I raise a hand to gently touch the scar and check it, "you did good."

He briefly leans into my hand and I take it back immediately.

"Thank you." He says, "I always kept your advices at heart. Like not taking whatever people say about me as truth."

"What do you mean? Did anyone say anything?" I ask, incredulously, "about your scar? That's absurd."

"Called me a monster and all that." He explains, stepping a little closer.

"I do hope you didn't listen to any of it then." I tell him, putting the book I was reading away, to have an excuse to put some distance between us. There's something not right, but I can't quite place it.

"I tried my best," he simply replies, following me, "I kept repeating your words. The ones you used to comfort me after I lost my eye. Do you remember?" He asks, looking closely my reactions, he doesn't wait for an answer to continue, "you told me small people need to make others feel just as small, in order to feel big, because most of the time they're so ashamed they need to make someone else feel just as miserable."

"Glad you kept that in mind." I chuckle, a hint of nerves getting to me from the way he's looking at me.

"I found it." He tells me, out of nowhere, in fact, I can't help the confused look I give him.

"What?" I ask.

"The book you used to read to Haelena." He clarifies, "the one about the meaning of flowers."

"Oh really?" I excitedly smile, "that's amazing. Thank you so much."

"I have it in my chambers, I can give it to you tonight." He tells me, "after supper, father wants to dine as a family apparently."

"Uhm... of course." I say, with a little bit of uncertainty.

"I'm actually finishing an interesting chapter." He specifies.

"It's fine, Aemond." I say, trying to wave away my own worries. I think this whole tension is merely caused by being back here after so much time.

He smiles, I see him opening his mouth to say something, but the noise outside catches our attention.

"The council is starting." He states and hums, "let's hope justice stays strong today."

"Yes..." I mutter.

Something about what he said makes me stop, he's not the boy I once knew.

Without saying a word I walk out, him close behind.

"Do you promise?" I hear him ask.

"Promise?"

"To meet me here tonight..." he says, eyes hopeful.

"O-of course." I force a smile, and once he smiles too, satisfied, I head to the throne room with other nobles.

I'm quick to lose Aemond as I look for Rhaenyra and Daemon, and I find them upfront with their sons.

"Toon you long enough." Daemon whispers as I stand behind them, with Jace and Luke.

"I was in the library, have mercy." I tease him, after I see his smirk I turn to Rhaenyra, "are you okay?"

"I'll be." She shortly answers.

I deeply sigh, I catch with the corner of my eye the nervous stance of Luke beside his mother, so I give his arm a reassuring squeeze.

"Don't be nervous, Luke. Don't show them they have any power over you." I softly say, he doesn't answer, but I know he heard me and is trying. "And you," I turn to Jace, "keep the fury at bay, uh?"

He gives me an annoyed but understanding look, lets out a puff of breath and straightens his shoulder.

The chatter quickly dies down as Otto Hightower starts to speak.

"Though ot is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with withe succession od Driftmark. As Hand, I speak with the King's voice on this and all other matters." He sits on the throne, " the crown will now hear the petitions."

"Hope he's comfortable." I mutter, hearning a grin from Daemon.

"Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon." Otto announes and Vaemond immediately takes stand in the middle, after sending a glare in our direction.

"My Queen, "he greets Alicent, "my Lord Hand, the history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has tuled the seas. When the doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end of their bloodlines and their name." I see Daemon giving Rhaenyra a look and her nodding, "I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother's seat. I am Lord Corlys' closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins."

"As it does in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon." Rhaenyra interferes, I mutter her name in warning, "if you cared so much about your house's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambition."

"You will have chance to make your own petition, princess Rhaenyra." Alicent stops her, scolding her almost, "do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard."

That's when Vaemond turns around to smirk in Rhaenyra's direction.

"What do you know of Velaryon blood, princess?" He asks, "I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn't recognise it."

"Cut deep, please." I can't hold myself, it's a whisper and I don't think he heard me, if he did he didn't show.

"This is about the future and survival of my House, not yours." He finishes with a look at Luke that I didn't like one bit. If he needs any help in showing his blood I'd gladly help, " my Queen, my Lord Hand." he continues, "this is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother's successor. The Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides."

"Thank you, Ser Vaemond." Otto says and Vaemond goes back to his place, "Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon."

Rhaenyra, with quite a defeated face, takes stand in the middle too.

"If I am to garce this farce with some answers, I will start by reminding the court that nearly 20 years ago, in this very..."

She can't continue due to the doors suddenly being opened. All eyes are on the sudden interruption.

"King Viserys of House Targaryen, the first of his name, king of the Andals and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kindoms, and protector of the Realm." The guard announces.

Hope fills my heart as I watch the king walking to his throne, I quick take a look around seeing the surprise on Otto and Alicent's faces. Vaemond is almost scared to see him, he looks at Otto for answers, but he got nothing.

I share a look with Daemon, to reassure him.

"I will sit the throne today." Viserys breathes out to Otto who can't to anything but nod his head.

The King is visibly weak, but he send the guard away, not wanting their help. He makes his way to the throne, with difficulty, he's leaning on his cane for support. When the crown falls and clatters, I see Daemon walking to his brother, retrieving the gold on the ground.

"I said I'm fine." Viserys says before seeing it's Daemon helping him, so he allows it. Daemon after helping his brother to the throne, puts the crown on his head then walks back to us.

"I must... admit... my confusion." He starts, taking back his king stance, " I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present... who might offer keener insight into Corlys Velaryon's wishes is the Princesa Rhaenys."

All eyes set on her.

"Indeed, your grace." She confidently nods and takes place in the middle of the room like Vaemond and Rhaenyra did, "it was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his true born son, Lucerys Velaryon, his mind never changed. Nor did my support of him." As Rhaenys speaks I feel relieved, almost tension melting away. "As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys' granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree."

I smile at Luke and Jace, finally seeing they're a little more relaxed, Luke for sure, I can see him breath again.

"Well..." the king starts, "the matter is settled. Again." He's almost bored, understandable, "I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides."

"You'd be wonderful, Luke." I assure him, as Rhaenya goes back next to Baela.

"Ypu break law..." apparently Vaemond still has something to say, "and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me... who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it."

"Allow it? Do not forget yourself, Vaemond." Viserys warns him.

There's a pause, Vaemond almost shaking with rage.

"That is no true Velaryon," he shouts pointing at Luke, "and certainly no nephew of mine."

"You had your turn, ser Vaemond." I say out loud this time, Vaemond glares at me.

"Lucerys is my true-born grandson. And you.. are no more than a second son of Driftmark." The king reminds him for his place.

"You... may run your house as you see fit... but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides. And gods be damned... "he turn to look straight at Luke, "I will not see it ended on the account of this..." he holds himself back.

"Say it." Daemon encourages him.

There's a long tense pause, Vaemond grins almost as he looks at Rhaenyra.

"Her children..." he starts," are bastards!" He shouts, "and she... is... a whore."

The nobles in the room gasps, I put a hand on Jace shoulder to keep him calm, and squeeze Luke's hand.

Viserys stands, weakly, but he stands up and draws out his dagger.

"I... will have your tongue for that." He threatens.

But Daemon is quicker and as soon as Viserys finishes his sentence, Daemon slices Vaemond's head, making everyone either scream or gasp.

Daemon casually leans on his sword looking down at the body.

"He can keep his tongue." He says.

"Disarm him!" Otto orders.

"No need." Daemon calmly says, cleaning his sword and walking back to Rhaenyra's side.

Viserys groans in pain probably.

"Call the maesters!" Alicent orders.

"Father?" Rhaenyra wants to walk to him,but stops before the stairs, she looks at me, silently telling me to check on him myself.

I make my way to Alicent holding the King with the guards help.

"Let me help, Alicent." I almost plead.

"The maesters help him just fine, we managed without you this whole time." She waves me off as she lets the guard take him to his chambers.

I helplessly look at them go, and send an apologetic look at Rhaenyra, she shakes her head to let me know it's not my fault, but her worried face remained.

--------------

"You asked for me, princess?" I ask as I join Princess Rhaenys at one of the balconies looking at the sea.

"Yes, my lady," she nods, "I wanted to ask you something and I need you to be honest with me."

"Me?"

"You're the only person who can clarify my doubts at the moment." She answers me.

"If I can be of help, princess, ask." I say, getting a little nervous.

"Did the princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon take any part in my son's death?" She looks straight into my eyes as she asks.

I take a moment, never braking eye contact, I can't decipher what she might think. I do know everyone thinks they killed Laenor, maybe she does too, but the question...

"I know Daemon might be reckless, and enjoys killing, you know him too. Yet, he's never been one to kill so lightly as everyone think, and Rhaenyra's wish for peace doesn't agree with such hypothesis. Don't you think?" I answer.

"You love them?" That question makes me lower my eyes, "I can see it. And I want to believe a soul like yours wouldn't fall for ill ones."

"I want to believe so too, princess." I look up at her again, seeing her soft and sad smile, "my best wishes to Lord Corlys' recovery. I do have a feeling he's too stubborn to leave us all like this."

That makes her smile a little more.

"Thank you, lady Y/n." She bows lightly and I do too, leaving her on the balcony.

--------------

I enter Rhaenyra and Daemon's chambers hoping they haven't left for supper yet.

"Where were you?" Daemon asks, fixing himself.

"Princess Rhaenys asked for me." I answer.

"Why?"

"She just wanted a clarification." I smile at him, "nothing to worry about."

"We thought you already headed for supper." Rhaenyra tells me.

"It's for the family why woul-"

"You're family too." She comes closer to hold my hands, "my father considers you like a daughter."

"After all this time.. I mean... I'm just your lady-" I try to say but her lips on mine stop me.

"You're more than that, and you know it. Stop your thoughts." She smiles.

"Are you sure he wants me there?" I ask, nervous.

"You're more than welcome at that table." She assures me.

"Besides... I'm not leaving you here on your own, I saw the guards sending you looks today." Daemon comes beside us, a possessive hand find its way to my waist.

"No guard was looking at me, Daemon." I roll my eyes.

"Oh yes, they were." He fully wraps his arms around me, "can't blame them, though."

I look at Rhaenyra for support, but she just smiles rolling her eyes and goes to the vanity to put her earrings on.

"Are you satisfied with the cutting?" I ask him, as he holds me to him.

"Very." He leans down to kiss my forehead, then before I could say anything more he kisses me deeply.

"Behave, we don't want to be late." Rhaenyra tells us, well, more to Daemon than me.

"I haven't kissed her in so long, let me enjoy her for a moment." He complains and leans down again to kiss me, but I turn my head, not that it prevents him to put his lips on me in any way.

"She's right." I say and he groans, complaining, "we don't want to be late."

"Don't we?" He asks against my skin.

"No." Rhaenyra smiles, but she's stern in her answer.

"Fine." He says, kissing my neck one last time, "but after supper," he takes my chin in his hand, "all mine." He winks.

"Let's go, my loves." Rhaenyra calls us, and takes my hand as we together head to the dining room.

--------------

There definitely tension in the room, despite the chatter. Chatter coming from the young ones, because at the table Rhaenyra and Alice don't say a word to each other, it's like they're keeping and eye on the other but without even looking.

I stand beside my seat, next to Luke by the head of the table, talking to the girls, when the doors open and the king enters and takes his place in the middle, between his daughter and his wife.

"How doo it is... to see you all tonight... together." He starts, I can see this really makes him happy.

"Pray before we begin?" Alicent asks and once Viserys agrees she starts, "may the Mother smile down on this gathering with love. May the Smith mwnd the bonds that have been broken for far too long. And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the gods give him rest."

At that Daemon rolls his eyes and I send him a look to tell him to behave.

"This is an occasion for celebration, it seems." Viserys declares, "my grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young princes... and their betrothed." He offers.

"Hear hear!"

And everyone raises their glasses, I smile at Luke and Rhaena, who are closer to me. I slightly see the glare Baela send to Aegon, but I can't tell why.

"Let us toast as well Prince Lucerys... the future Lord of the Tides."

"You'll be great." Rhaena tells him, after seeing the slightly flustered face of his betrothed, and I gently nudge him.

My eyes find their way on my left, Baela having the same glare as before, and this time I see clearly Aegon whispering something to Jace.

"He's not worth it, my dear." I whisper to her, and she lets out a big annoyed breath.

Thankfully, Viserys standing makes everyone silent, he looks at everyone at the table.

"It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world... yet grown so distant from each other... int he years past." He speaks, breathes with difficulty. He then removes the mask on his face revealing his almost rotten side, "my own face... is no longer a handsome one... if indeed it ever was. But tonight... I wish you to see me.. as I am. Not just a king, but your father. Your brother. Your husband... and your grand sire. Who may not, it seems...walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hols ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown... then for the sake on this old man who loves you all so dearly." His voice breaks and my heart follows, he does care about the house being one.

He weakly sits again with a groan and Rhaenyra stands up, golding her glass.

"I wish to raise my cup to her Grace, the Queen." She declares, Alicent looks up at her a mix of surprise and confusion on her face, "I love my father. But I must admit that no one has stood... more loyally by his side than his good wife. She has tended to him with... unfailing devotion, love and honor. And for that, she has my gratitude... and my apology." As she sits back down I genuinely smile at her.

I look at Alicent, who looks speechless, she definitely didn't expect Rhaenyra to say such things to her.

"Your graciousness moves me deeply, princess." She says, uncertain, but with honesty, "we're both mothers... and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow." She stands as well with her own glass, "I raise my cup to you... and to your house." She takes a breath, "you'll make a fine queen."

I can't hold the smile on my face, Rhaenyra softly smiles too. It might've never seemed like it, but hearing Alicent's support now means a lot to her. Everyone raises their cups and drinks.

I send Alicent a grateful look and she kindly smiles in return.

Aegon stands up, wanting to fill his glass again, but it's clear he looked for an excuse to get to Baela, so I keep my attention on him.

"I, um..." he starts whispering, filling his glass, "I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer. But if you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask." He 'offers', making Jace hit the table harshly and stand up.

"Jace." Baela calls softly.

Aemond too stands and they stare at each other, a hint of a challenge flashes in Aemond's eye.

Jace then grabs his glasses ans raises it.

"To Prince Aegon and... Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family's good health, dear uncles."

"Well done, my boy" Viserys proudly smiles at him.

"I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena," Haelena stands too, which warms my heart, "they'll be married soon. It isn't so bad. Mostly, he just ignores you... except sometimes when he's drunk." She says, and that earns some laughs around the table, then she sits down.

I decide it's my turn to say something so I stand up with my own glass.

"I guess I'll say something too, if you let me." I say, and once Viserys nods his head, I continue, "I owe so much to this family, I probably wouldn't even be alive if it weren't for your kindness, my King. I want to raise my glass to you and all of your house, as thank you for letting me be a part of this family, may the gods protect you all." And I sit back down, Rhaenyra smiles at me fondly. Viserys nods, and a soft smile makes its way on his pained face.

"Let us have some music." Viserys says, and immediately a lively tune can be heard in the room.

Jace stands and goes to ask Haelena for a dance, and as they dance and maids bring more food and wine, the chatter at the table starts, laughter too. I chat with Rhaena, and Luke and Baela chimes in every now and then.

After a while, the guards are called to bring the king away. He's probably too weak to even stay up so much, I let out a shaky breath, feeling helpless.

"I'm afraid there's not much more to be done, don't trouble yourself." Baela soft says to me, noticing my powerless expression, I nod, understanding her words, but still feeling bad, I couldn't be of help.

Suddenly there a bang in the table and the music stops.

We all look up to Aemond standing and harshly grabing his glass.

"Final tribute." he declares, I don't know exactly why, but there's tension in the room again all of a sudden,"to the health of my nephews: Jace... Luke... and Jeoffrey. Each of them handsome, wise... hm... strong."

"Aemond." Alicent says his name as a warning, but he ignores her.

"Come... let us drain our cups to these three...strong boys."

"I dare you to say that again." Jace loudly challenges.

"Why? 'Twas only a compliment." He walks towards him, Luke stands too, "do you not think yourself strong?"

Jace punches Aemond as Aegon grabs Luke, preventing him from getting near them.

We all stand up, Baela's temper can't take it anymore and needs to be held back by Rhaena. Aemond pushes Jace to the ground, and before Jace tries to attack him again, a guard seizes him and Luke too.

"It's okay, calm down." I stand close to Baela and Rhaena, helping her calming her sister.

"Why would you say such a thing before these people?" I hear Alicent ask her son.

"I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family mother. Though it seems my nephews aren't quite as proud of theirs."

I go stand with Rhaenyra, as Jace manages to wiggle free from the guard.

Fortunately, Daemon stops him.

"Wait, wait." He tells him, making him back away.

"Go to your quarters. All of you go, now." Rhaenyra tells them all.

I sigh, disappointed, I shake my head, looking at Aemond.

Daemon stands behind her, in front of Aemond, then when he leaves, too, Daemon walks the young ones out.

"Rhaenyra." Alicent calls, and the Princess hold my hand, to make me stay.

"It's beat, I think, if we go back to Dragonstone." She sighs.

"You've only just arrived." Alicent takes her hamd gently, "you both."

"Lete see the children home." She starts, "I'll, um... return on dragon back."

"The king and I would both like that." The queen nods, "You as well... I hope." She adds, looking at me.

"I... I could stay here and wait for her." I say to Alicent, nodding to Rhaenyra, who smiles at me.

"That would be nice, my lady." She smiles and bow my head slightly before walking put with Rhaenyra.

"Do you feel alright in riding Syrax in your condition?" I ask her as we walk.

"I'm more than fine, don't worry about me." She assures me, "Are you sure to stay here?"

"I am, princess." I assure her as well.

"Promise to tell me if anything happens." She says, squeezing my hand.

"Of course."

--------------

I'm helping Rhaenyra brush her hair, and Daemon is taking off his boots when we hear a knock on the doors.

The maid opens it and a guard makes his way inside.

"Apologies for the intrusion, princess. I was sent here to fetch lady Y/n." He explains.

"And why's that?" Daemon stands, ready to rush to his sword.

"Prince Aemond asked for her presence in the library." He replies, getting a little nervous after seeing Daemon's reaction.

"Oh, thanks, I almost forgot." I say.

"Forgot what?" Daemon immediately asks.

"I'll be there shortly." I nod to the guard, who nods and walks out of the room, after bowing to the couple.

"Forgot what?" Daemon repeats the question, more sternly.

"I promised him I would've met him in the library after supper. He found a book I was looking for for ages, and he wants to give it back to me." I explain, simply.

"Yes, I know what he wants to give to you." He mutters under his breath.

"Daemon." Rhaenyra scolds him.

"What? Haven't you seen how he looked at her at that table?" Daemon's shocked.

"Gods..." I sigh, "he wasn't looking at me in any way, Daemon."

"Yes, he was." He insists.

"Like what then?" I question.

He moves towards me until he's towering over me, taking my chin and making me look up at him.

"Like I look at you before I grab you and throw you on the bed, my love." He tells me, making my face heat up.

"Don't..." I warn him.

"I like seeing you flustered like this." He smirks, leaning closer.

"You enjoy torturing her. It's different." Rhaenyra's amusement is clear as she speaks.

"I do." He admits, proudly. "That's why I recognise when someone is looking at what's mine."

"He wasn't." I insist

"He was."

"He was not." I tell him, "really. Now let me go. The sooner I retrieve the book, the sooner I'll be back." I manage to put some space between us and grab my shoes.

"I'm not letting you go to him alone." He sternly tells me.

"It's just Aemond." I remind him, "I cared for him a lot when he was younger."

"Yes, but he's not a child anymore. He's twenty, isn't he?" He pretends to wonder, "he has one thing in mind."

"Don't be ridiculous." I sigh. "Listen, I'll be quick, alright? Stop worrying. Rhae, help."

"She's capable of defending herself, my love." She supports me, "and she's right. The sooner she goes, the sooner she's back into our arms."

Daemon sighs deeply, not agreeing one bit, but recognises he's being outnumbered.

"Fine. But be quick."

"Of course." I give him a kiss, "Do not worry." I go kiss Rhaenyra and walk out towards the library.

I follow the guard to the library, softly thanking him as he lets me in.

"Aemond?" I call, and once I hear his voice, I follow it until I find him, standing by a table casually reading the book, a hand behind his back."There you are."

He looks up to me and smiles.

"I know it's late, my apologies for that, my lady." He says.

"It's fine, Aemond, do not worry." I assure him, I look at the book, "was it interesting?"

"Very." He nods, "I particularly enjoyed the chapter about the secret messages."

I walk cautiously closer, more so I can grab the book rather than to him.

"Oh, yes, apparently in Old Valyria, they used flowers and plants to send messages instead of ravens." I say, looking at the page Aemond was reading a few moments ago, "ah, yes, they used them also so propose marriage, to express their deepest love to one another."

I can sense him moving around me, I try to ignore the creeps down my spine as I feel him closer.

"They used dahlias to propose, didn't they?" He asks. There's something in his voice that makes me tense.

"Yes... um... yes, they did." I nod, controlling my voice so he doesn't see my nerves.

"Like this one?" He asks, and a dahlia appears in front of me.

"Oh! Where did you find it? I thought they couldn't grow here." I wonder, still not taking the flower.

"I had the servants plant them," he starts as he gets even closer, almost against me, "once I read that chapter, I had them plant tons of these. It's for you... from me."

I immediately turn around, and take a few steps away from him.

"Excuse me?" I ask.

"Marry me." He tells me.

"Aemond... uh... why?" I ask again.

"The flower speaks for it, doesn't it?" He gets closer, not caring that I'm backing away.

"I'm too old for you." I make him reason.

"Not true, you're perfect." He shakes his head. He's quicker than me and stands in front of me again, forcing me to back up against the bookshelves.

"Aemond... listen..."

"Since I can remember," he interrupts me, putting his hands on my waist, "you've been the only one understanding me, the only one who truly saw me.

"No..." I carefully move his hands away, "Aemond this, whatever you think you're feeling it's-"

"I know what I feel." He snaps, but his features soften immediately, "I know what I feel. I want you, and I know you feel it too."

"No." I push him off, "no, Aemond, I don't. This is... very sweet, but I don't share these feelings. I'm sorry."

He looks at me, without saying a word, without a single expression on his face.

"There would be time, my love." He finally says, "You just need to get away from my dear sister in order to properly see."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, irritated.

He simply hums, retrieves the book, and hands it to me, and without any more words, he walks away.

I take a moment to catch my breath. What just happened? I can't believe Daemon was right, like this. When he put his hands on me, there was something in his eye that made me fear for myself.

I'm afraid he has changed a lot since I last saw him.

[tikitsune]

I've had this sitting on a docs for a while and decided to finish it on a rehearsal day because why not and math sucks.

Obey Me Pack Mark Placements: Brothers

Lucifer:

- Man would deadass give a full tattoo sleeve but he can’t so he puts it on the inside of the left wrist.

- He puts it on the inner wrist so it’s clear who you belong to.

- He absolutely loves it is when you cup his cheek and caress his face.

- He will grab your arm and kiss his pact mark.

- If you thought him rolling up his sleeves was hot, he thinks when you roll your sleeves up, you are the hottest thing in Devildom, and that's staying something.

- Him being the Avatar of Pride means that he is kinda easily jealous. Like if it's around his brothers, the undateables or Thirteen, Raphael and Mephistopheles (someone tell me the trio name please) he's fine. He's also fine with like the students of RAD. But if it's with someone of higher power, like a noble, they can get pushy.

- Let's just say it won't end well for both parties (*ahem* the opposing side)

Mammon:

- Back of the neck, just where the bottom of the hairline is.

- Due to his ego, he put it where it can be hidden if there was enough hair.

- When he is sad, he will back hug you and bury his nose where his pact mark is.

- He would love it if you would wear your hair up or split your hair so it shows whenever you are with him.

- He is one of the more jealous brothers. Like the eldest, he is fine around the normal crowd, but around the students and everyone else, he is a bit insecure.

- Give him hugs, kisses and pets on the head as reassure that he's yours, and you are his.

Leviathan:

- Under the ear 

- He likes it there because it’s personal to him, and can once again be hidden by hair, but can be shown if the hair is pulled back. 

- Levi is also the jealous type, he doesn't get out much which means he doesn't know if you are being hit on.

- On the days he does go outside, he is stuck to you like glue and will only release you under certain circumstances.

- Give the boy love but not too, much or Levi.exe will stop working.

Satan:

- Across the shoulder blade.

- His own little intimate place that can be shown if MC wants.

- He would love it if you show it off, even just a sliver but he won’t force you to.

- He be a good boy like that

- In terms of domesticity, he loves it if you wear something that shows off your shoulders, even if it’s just you and him

- He can and will kiss all the way across you're shoulders

Asmodeus:

- A ring around your hip

- He may be the Avatar of Lust but that doesn't mean he wants to have sex all the time. He's just generally attracted to you, as his is to you.

- He absolutely loves it when you wear low-waisted things

- He would love it if you showed it to everyone but if you are uncomfortable with low-waisted things, he is perfectly content with seeing it when it's just you and him

- It is a pleasure/soothing point.

Beelzubub:

- On the tongue

- Bickslow style

- Honestly, out of all of the pack marks, you can't hide it if you tried. 

- It might be for the best because as sweet as he is, he is the ragey jealous type. 

- He has the build for it as well, so make sure your relationship is known. 

- I'm not saying he is insecure or anything but if you get uncomfortable he will do what he sees fit to make it not so. 

Belphegor:

- On the collar bone

- He is a lazy bitch so he just puts it in the most "obvious" place.

- He, like his twin, is a ragey jealous type of person but he has more triggers

- If you cuddle, chances are he will have his head right near your collarbone or on your chest as an assurance that you are indeed here and you are his.

[starmanskywalker]

possession · anakin skywalker x f!reader

hello there, @snippy-tano! i tried to do something different here, still respecting the core of your prompt and i wholeheartedly hope you enjoy this one, dear!

synopsis: you broke free from a cult a while ago. your leader - and ex-lover - wants you back. 

⚠️ the jedi temple in this fic is a literal cult. ⚠️ this is a modern, no powers!au fic set in the 70s bc i’ve always wanted to write something set in that decade. even though this is very much a dubcon work, i still feel like it deserves the dead dove do not eat tag, as cults are a delicate subject and there’s a scene featuring a very inebriated reader and a very sexually eager cult leader!anakin. huge, blaring trigger warnings for drug abuse, manipulation, coercion, psychological abuse and many other toxic behaviors cult leaders are known for having. if you're a minor, stay away!

i lowkey think this would also work so well as an obi-wan fic but anakin was also very, very fun to write in this context. feel free to send me prompts involving him or obi anytime you like (i might take a bit long to write but maybe you’ll think it’s worth it!)

word count: 6.599 (shit that’s long!)

When you left the Jedi Temple, you felt like the world as you knew it before turned upside down. To put it in more precise terms, you felt like an unfrozen comic book hero that came back from the realm of the unconscious.

You’ve spent seven years of your life with little contact to the mundane world outside of what Anakin allowed you and the other members of the Temple to see, hear and taste. Your entire existence revolved around him and his needs - after all, Anakin Skywalker was The Chosen One. The Force itself, that mysterious energy field that binds the galaxy and all members of the Jedi Temple together in its arduous mission to bring peace, equality and compassion to an increasingly unfair, unequal and war-torn world, chose him to lead you. So how could you say no to such a noble mission?

And what a mission that was. Seeing yourself in a mirror after all you’ve been through without the rose-colored glasses sponsored by Anakin’s constant and almost mantra-esque praise to you was quite something.

Your body was begging for rest in every possible way - your hair had stopped growing, giant dark circles had formed under your eyes and you didn't even have time to eat properly among so many tasks that were assigned to you on a daily basis, resulting in a drastic change on how you looked. During your time under Anakin’s watch, you were PR, secretary, cook, coordinator, supervisor, presenter, confidant, administrator and one of his many lovers; the amount of titles growing every day while no kind of worldly remuneration appeared as a reward.

Thinking about Anakin still stirred so many difficult and confusing feelings inside you. He supposedly loved you more than anything else in the world, yet still brought so many other women to his bed. You were his and only his, yet your body was often the bargaining chip he offered in some of his treasured, nefarious deals with politicians, bankers and other powerful men like him, which you accepted gracefully to please him. And Lord, how you yearned to please him in any and every way you could. This feeling was the only one you were able to discern clearly out of so many that disappeared in the mental fog of overwork. 

He was beautiful, even more dashing when his attention was directed entirely to you. His compliments meant more, his touches were more eager, his smiles wider when you did everything you could for his cause.

There were days you only thought about the good aspects of your past life - and there were days the only memories that pierced your mind were the bad ones. Yet it’s kinda funny how almost a year later after you left he is still the center of all these thoughts.

Even if your current life is stable, calm and fairly easy. Even if your current partner is an angel who does treat you like they indeed love you. Even if you made them a promise you would never, ever look back.

Anakin, as always, makes things way harder than they really need to be.

-

The weight of loving Anakin and his community became too heavy to bear for you and your partner around the same time, for widely different reasons that coincided with a period of growing closeness between you. The fact that what drew you to your current significant other was precisely how much they reminded you of Anakin made you worry about the future you were building together from the start, yet Anakin was an addiction you always knew you wouldn’t break free from easily.

(Better to wean off in gradually smaller doses than to quit cold turkey.)

Another thing you always knew was that your partner would adapt to this new life much easier than you did, as they weren't as loyal to the cause as you were. They found new friends that also became your friends, yet at dinners and parties you always felt a little more out of place than them. Your jokes didn’t quite land, you were never the funniest or smartest on the table, not even for a minute, despite how hard they always tried to make you feel included. It’s always been like that for you, really, except for the time you were there.

With Anakin. By his side.

The feeling of belonging somewhere, especially when accompanied (or led) by a beautiful, well-spoken and ambitious man is a hell of a drug. A drug strong enough to numb the rage within you brought by the memories of the alienation and paranoia spiral he instilled in you constantly. The memories of the countless sleepless nights you’ve spent dealing with Anakin’s coke-fueled persecution complex. The unspeakable things he had you do to prove you were by his side and not against him and the cause. 

A drug strong enough to make you accept a specific invitation.

At the beginning of a certain day, a stranger bumped into you while you walked into the street and left a piece of paper in your coat’s pocket. Classic Temple method of sending a message. However, instead of the usual threats and condemnations for leaving the community, you find something else entirely new.

Anakin wanted to speak to you. Alone.

You’d go just to get some much needed closure for what you went through by his side. Just that. Close this chapter of your life once and for all. After all, what harm could a simple conversation do?

You felt horrified that you still found yourself wondering what he’d think of you now; deep down you were afraid of him giving up on you entirely even though you truly didn’t want to be part of his mess anymore. Yet not having a door open to his path anymore frightened you to your core because even with its hundred million flaws, you still saw the Temple as a place you belonged in. 

You feared that feeling in itself. Every decision it made you take. All the euphoria it still, regrettably and shamefully, brings you.

Your partner notices you growing more silent by the day as the calendar approaches the fateful date. Your mind was in a complete state of turmoil. You left the Temple months ago, determined to start a new life for yourself, one free from the darkness that had consumed you before. But despite your best efforts, you couldn't shake the memories of what had transpired between you and Anakin, or the longing you felt for the leader who had shown you for the first time, even if in his own twisted way, what it was like to have an entire community to go back to, one that appreciated you. 

You feel a familiar flutter in your stomach, a mix of anticipation and fear that you couldn't ignore every time you think a little too much about Anakin's intense gaze and commanding presence. What would he say when he saw you? Would he be angry at you for leaving, or would he welcome you back with open arms? And more importantly, why would you even want to be welcomed back? 

As you sat across from each other at the dinner table night after night, your partner couldn't help but notice the faraway look in your eyes. You seemed to be lost in thought most of the time, and your change in behavior coincided with the growing feeling you shared that you were being spied on by Temple’s members everywhere you went. Your partner, more than anyone else, knew what the Temple meant to you, and that leaving it behind had been a difficult and painful process for you both, but they couldn't help but feel frustrated that they couldn't seem to reach you. 

And, dreadfully, that they know the reason why.

-

August 31st, 1979

As you drove to the address indicated in the now crumpled piece of paper, you couldn't help but feel a sense of nervous, reprehensible excitement building within you. It had been so long since you had felt this kind of intensity, this kind of connection to something greater than yourself. The memories of your time in the cult - your partner made sure to repeat this word to you as often as they could - flooded back to you, and you felt a sense of longing and belonging that you hadn't felt in a very long time.

But beneath the surface of your excitement, there was also a deep sense of fear and trepidation. You knew what Anakin was capable of, how he could push you to your limits and beyond. You remembered all the pain and all the humiliation, the sense of being stripped down to your very core. But even as these memories surfaced, you couldn't help but feel drawn to the system who had once held such power over you. You knew that what you were doing was dangerous, that you were walking a fine line between ecstasy and the destruction of everything you’ve built away from his grasp. But as you approach the place where you’ll meet him, you feel a sense of inevitability wash over you. You were in too deep, and there was no turning back now.

The few Temple members always present by Anakin’s side - you know them too well, after all, most of them also shared the same bed you slept on most nights - all welcome you with a disarming kindness that the outside world and its people just can’t match, even with the many hurtful words that were exchanged when you and your partner left. The outside world could never match such selflessness and forgiveness. This realization breaks your heart so strongly you swear you can feel it physically. Did I do wrong by leaving? Is it too late to have it all back? Why am I questioning myself over my safe, sane, final choice?

Padmé, Sabé, Ahsoka, they’re all wide smiles, lighthearted jokes and they exude a strong feeling of happiness for having you, even if for a short while, around them again. Despite an initial distrust from your part that manifested itself through curt words, you eventually engage in lively chatter with the girls like nothing between you ever changed. You talk about everything and nothing at the same time as you all tried to avoid the elephant in the room: the reason you were there.

Your smile falters when Padmé hands you a white, delicate, flimsy gown that leaves you feeling way more exposed than you’ve ever been since you left. She notices your discomfort and places a hand on your shoulder. “This is all about healing. We’re so happy you’re back.”

This specific dress is only used by women who go through The Rebirth. A private ceremony between the Temple’s leader and a follower that promises to bring the follower closer to the divine.

Despite how close you were to Anakin, you were never invited to a ritual of his yourself, you just heard of them. He always told you you didn’t need it and you knew better than to probe him about it. It’s funny how the opportunity appeared only after you left his circle.

All you knew was that the Temple’s rituals, usually aimed at the unruly, alternated through a range of activities and experiences intended to be intense, transformative, and meaningful; perfectly crafted to reach people Anakin couldn’t solely reach through words or promises. These imperfect followers would afterwards appear completely different after their closer encounters to the Force. Some left the Temple, some stayed. But they were all similarly profoundly changed: some women disappeared, some women started to believe in miracles, some became part of his inner circle.

“I’m… I’m just here to talk t--”

“And that’s all you’ll do, if that’s what you want. But keep in mind it's not every day that you’ll get to be a part of something like this.”

You begrudgingly nod, forcing yourself to smile again. “Okay.”

“You trust me?”

“I do.”

“I’ll tell him you’re here. Could you please change your clothes while I go up there? Remember we need you to be as comfortable as possible, so please don’t wear anything underneath the dress.”

“Okay.”

You close your eyes as you feel your stomach dropping. You take a few deep breaths.

You were just reminded of what you didn’t miss about the Temple.

Ahsoka and Sabé promptly offer to help you in changing clothes, which you accept. A few minutes later, Padmé returns with a kind expression on her face, extending a hand towards you. “Master Skywalker is waiting for you.”

You take her hand and follow her through the series of steps. You felt your heart racing as you were led deeper into the building. You knew that you’d been tricked, but now it was too late to turn back. You could feel the intensity of the ritual building around you, and you knew that you were in for something far more riskier than you had bargained for.

You finally arrive at the door and, surprisingly, Padmé gives you a warm hug before leaving. Some minutes pass, no sign of anything or anyone. Were you supposed to knock or something…?

Before you could answer that question to yourself, Anakin opens the door and the oxygen is ripped out of your lungs in a way you couldn’t anticipate. You’re like a fish out of water; you can hardly believe your eyes. There he is, the one person you thought you'd never see again, standing before you.

Anakin's bathed by the muted light of candles in a sight that could be painted by the Force itself. He’s shirtless, wearing only sweatpants, his golden skin and defined physique bared for you to see. He moves some rebellious strands away from his eyes to see you more clearly.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you struggle to catch your breath at the sight of him. The room is too hot, seeing him again is too overwhelming. You want to leave, to get as far away from this place as possible. But before you can make your way back, Anakin holds your arm, his voice calm and reassuring. “Are you okay?” he asks softly.

You shake your head, unable to form words.

"Come in," he says, taking you inside gently. “No need to be scared.”

As he envelops you in his arms and closes the door, you are immediately struck by the religious imagery that surrounds you. There are symbols and icons everywhere, each one imbued with its own powerful meaning. The space feels simultaneously cozy and imposing, the perfect balance between comfort and awe.

Your eyes drift across the room, taking in the details. There are candles burning in every corner, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The air is thick with incense, a heady mix of spice and smoke. In the center of the room, there is an altar, adorned with offerings and gifts.

He leads you to a quiet corner of the room. There, he holds you close, murmuring words of comfort and reassurance.

"I can’t believe you came, little bird," he says. "I’ve missed you.”

You can feel the strength of his arms around you, the familiar scent of his skin. As he pulls away and looks into your eyes, you can see a mixture of emotions playing across his face. You're not sure what he's thinking, but you sure can sense the power he still holds over you, especially when he calls you by that pet name. Despite your best intentions, you know that being in his presence again will be a test of your willpower and resolve. It’s already being one, to be honest.

As you struggle to calm down from your panic attack, Anakin continues to hold you close and stroke your hair. You feel his gentle touch and the steady rhythm of his breath, and it begins to soothe you. You hate the fact that it’s soothing you. 

He speaks to you softly, using words you can barely hear as you focus on slowing your breathing. "You're safe here," he says, "You're with me again, and everything will be okay."

You look up at him, trying to speak, but your voice is still caught in your throat. He nods, understanding, and simply holds you a little tighter.

As he continues to speak in soothing tones, you try to remind yourself that his words are simply a means to an end, a way to control you once again. Your mind races as you struggle to push away the memories of what he's done to you in the past. But despite your attempts to resist, you can't deny the feeling of safety that washes over you in his embrace.

You know that you shouldn't give in to his words, that you should fight back and leave this place. But deep down, a part of you yearns for the familiar comfort of the Temple, of him. The part of you that craves his attention, his approval, his touch. Who can’t get enough of it.

In that moment, you realize that you're falling prey to him all over again, despite everything you've been through. You feel a deep sense of shame and disgust at yourself, but it's drowned out by the overwhelming desire to be near him once more. Even if for a while.

That makes it even harder for you to speak. Your voice seems to have been swallowed up by the overwhelming emotions churning inside of you. You used to be so confident and outspoken while you were under his wing, but now you feel like a mere shadow of yourself, unsure of what to say or how to act. You hate how vulnerable you feel in his presence, how powerless you are against the pull he has over you. So you just stare, unable to do much else.

Anakin briefly lets go of you to gently touch your hand. He looks at you intently, his piercing gaze locked onto yours. "I understand how overwhelming this is for you, but I promise you you're safe with me. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to.”

“Why did you want to speak to me?” You protest, your voice cracking as you force the words out of you, almost as a way of rebelling against his guidance. You pull away and distance yourself from him.

Skywalker looks at you with a solemn expression, searching your face. "I called you here because I want to offer you a chance at redemption," he says, his voice steady and calm. "I know you've been struggling with feelings of inadequacy since you left us. I just want to help you find your way back to the right path."

He pauses for a moment, letting his words sink in. “You were always one of my most faithful Knights," he continues. "I know you still have that spark inside of you. The spark that made you believe in me, that made you want to devote yourself to this. I want to help you rekindle that spark.”

You feel a wave of conflicting emotions wash over you as you listen to his words. Part of you wants to believe him, to trust that he has your best interests at heart. But another part of you is wary, remembering that the only reason he knows that, literally, is because he’s been ordering people to follow you.

“I don't know if I can trust you,” you manage to say, your voice shaking slightly.

Anakin’s expression softens, and he takes a step closer to you. "I understand why you might feel that way," he says. "But I want to assure you that I have no intention of hurting you. I want to help you heal, to help you find peace and purpose in your life. All you have to do is trust me. I promise that I'll be there for you every step of the way."

“Even if I don’t stay?”

You notice a flash of desperation in his eyes, which he tries to conceal. “We have something for you much more powerful than what your current life is offering you. And I think you know that, too.”

“I left for a reason.”

“And I can give you many others to come back. Your new life is just an illusion, a temporary fix to a problem that will only grow worse.” As he speaks to you, you feel his words sinking into your mind. He’s a specialist at tearing down the walls you’ve built to protect yourself from his influence, brick by fucking brick. 

“I love my partner. That’s… that’s not an illusion.” You answer, not really believing your own words.

“A partner you’ve found here. A partner you’ve chosen to live a life with where you constantly look for things to try to fill the emptiness of not being here.”

You feel a maelstrom of emotions swirling within you, making it difficult to discern which way is up. The memories of the past, the good and the bad, flood your mind, clouding your judgment. You want to believe that you can be free from Anakin and live a normal life, but something inside you is drawn to his words. Something that also reminds you that there’s no such thing as a normal life after this one, after meeting him, after letting him in control for so long.

The thought of giving him another chance both terrifies and excites you, and you feel yet another wave of guilt crashing unto you for even entertaining it. He can tell he put you in a tug-of-war between what you know is right and what you truly want. “I only want what’s best for you. Deep down you know that being here is where you truly belong.”

"I don't know anymore. It's just... it's really not that simple--" You hesitate, noticing how his gaze is morphing into something much less fraternal the moment he notices there’s ground for his persuasiveness to tread on. You step back and start walking in the opposite direction, not noticing how easy you’re making it for him to corner you. He slowly, predatorily follows your steps.

“What's not simple about it? I know we bring you more fulfillment than anything or anyone else in this world.”

“I’m confused, Master!” You yelp, your heart beating fast once again at the looming threat of history repeating itself and at the shock of you instinctively calling him by his title again. You knock over an offering and you cover your mouth while trying not to hyperventilate once more.

“Then let me help you. Come back home and we can work through this together.” Successfully having you where he needed you to be, he moves your hand away from your mouth, almost whispering as he lowers his head to speak closer to your ears. “You just need the right guidance, the right push. And I am here to give that to you.”

“They are so devoted to you. I don't know if I can be like them. What if I change my mind again?”

"Don't worry about them. You're not like anyone else. You're special.” You find yourself getting lost in his words, feeling a sense of comfort that you haven't experienced in such a long time. You know that you shouldn't trust him, that he's just trying to fuck with you, but you can't help the way you're feeling. “I can mold you into the perfect follower, the perfect partner, the perfect lover. You'll be amazed at what we can accomplish together. It’s not like you don’t already know, right?"

In that moment, you're no longer the strong-willed person who left the Temple behind. Instead, you're a vulnerable follower once again, willing to do anything to please your leader.

“I mean it when I say I’ve missed you. You don’t know what you do to me,” he confesses in a raspy, needy tone while his fingers gently move the straps of your dress away from your shoulders, making you shiver. His need for you also tore down some of his own walls. “Couldn’t fucking breathe knowing you were living with someone else.”

“Anakin–” you squeak, breathless as the silky fabric slides easily above your skin and pools at your feet, leaving you bare in front of him like a freshly prepared meal. Vulnerable doesn’t even start to define how afraid, uncertain and exposed you feel right now. Anakin seems to notice things are going at a pace that’s not compatible with how frail your trust in him is, so he does his best to keep his composure and go back on track.

“Lie down for me at the altar, little bird.” He orders, his tone very artificially patient.

Trembling, you do as you're told. The marble is cold against your skin and you flinch at the touch, the heat of the candles balancing your temperature when you finish positioning yourself. 

“You were lost, but now you're found. You were blind, but now you see.” He intimately preaches for your ears only, punctuating his command with the softest of caresses on your cheek. Your voice weakly paired with his at the last few words, as you remembered them with a painful familiarity and ease. “You thought you could leave me behind, but you belong to me. You belong to this community and now we will reforge that bond. Would you like that?”

You close your eyes, the certainty of your fate now making place to a strange serenity. “Yes.”

“Good.” He replies, pouring oil in his hands and spreading it between his palms and fingers. “Now relax. You will be enlightened and empowered like never before.” His hands firmly massage your skin in unhurried movements making your stomach flood with butterflies, his touch as inebriating as the whirlwind of thoughts running inside your head. “I sense so much fear flowing through you.”

You moan in response to the smooth sliding of his hands over your tense body. As Anakin applies pressure to your muscles, making them feel looser and more relaxed by the minute, you shiver at the realization of how much you missed being this close to him in such an intimate way. “Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate…” 

“Hate… leads to suffering.” You complete, swallowing hard afterwards as if to clean how dirty you felt by falling into this as easily as you did.

“Exactly. Let yourself be at ease. You carry a heavy burden, love, and it's my job to help you lighten that load.” You can feel the purpose of his touch gradually morph into something much more unvirtuous as he palms your abdomen and moves upwards, now fondling both of your breasts exploratorily, basking on how velvety your skin feels after all this time you’ve spent apart. 

A flicker of apprehension rushes through your veins as you sluggishly try to move his hands away from you, but instead your limbs just rest atop of his, your relaxed body unable to follow through with any movement that demands more than a few active brain cells. ​​A wave of anger at yourself and at him rolls weakly through your mind, promptly subdued by how blurred the lines between pleasure and shame start to feel on your mind and frame. His soft touch starts driving you a little crazy; after what seems like forever, he finally tweaks your nipples, eliciting a soft whimper out of you.

“Let me take care of you,” he quietly pleads, hopefully having noticed to some degree that you still were trying to resist him in some way. While Anakin continues to knead the soft flesh, his thumb flicking across your nipple until it’s painfully erect, the other slowly goes down your abdomen until it reaches the most sensitive part of you. You sigh, utterly, impossibly resigned to the situation that’s unfolding. Also to let go, at least partially, of the anxiety that’s creepingly festering in your guts. “You deserve to be loved. To be here with me. You deserve everything that’s about to return in your life.”

Your eyes water at his words. It’s not that your partner doesn’t love you or make you feel like you don't deserve love, but it's overwhelming to hear this from Anakin after you loved him like you did (and maddeningly, regretfully, still do). Your partner gave you love, but not much else - and if there's something you learned from your time away from the Temple is that just romantic love isn’t enough when your new life didn't give you other people to rely on, didn’t scratch that persistent fucking itch that never really went away after you left the Temple.

You woke up every day feeling like you were missing something, like there was a hole in your chest that couldn’t be filled. You tried to distract yourself by immersing yourself in a new job, new hobbies, new social life. You went out with people, attended events, participated in activities of leisure, but the ache never really went away. You talked to people, but it all felt surface-level, small talk that went nowhere and meant nothing.

You started to feel like you were going crazy. Why couldn’t you just be satisfied? You have a partner who loves you, a job you enjoy, decent, lively people surrounding you both. You loathed yourself for the fact that the answer always led to the same place and person you prided yourself in leaving. You started to withdraw into yourself, keeping your feelings to yourself, afraid of burdening others with your problems. You didn’t want to seem ungrateful or needy, so you bottled everything up. But it only made things worse.

It made things bad enough that you searched for the only solution that could soothe it all easily. That always had all the answers all the time, regardless of the personal cost they had to you.

Anakin’s grayish eyes stare profoundly into yours for long seconds before he kisses you intensely. You eagerly retribute, his fingers still spreading the growing wetness between your legs in unhurried yet precise circular motions that make you moan unreservedly into his mouth. You can feel the slightest taste of whiskey and that bitter pill he always took on his tongue as a small reminder of everything you’re agreeing on letting take over the control of your life again, yet there's no way in hell you’re letting it go now. As a sign of such commitment, you cling to one of the arms that are stimulating you as if it’s a lifeline, an act that makes him smirk into the kiss and let out an appreciative groan. He’s still careful, though, trying hard not to lean entirely on the familiarity of how your body yearns for him, as this is above all your return back home. He needs to act accordingly.

His movements start to probe your cunt a bit further and after a little while of teasing, he inserts two fingers inside of you, his lips letting go of yours briefly just so he can hear how precious you sound while getting filled by his digits. You comply with his wish, letting your satisfaction echo inside the dimly lit room along with the filthy sound of how ready you are for him. “I’ve missed this so much.” He groans, letting out a shaky breath he shares with you as he feels the heat spreading under your skin, manifesting itself through glittery beads of sweat that start glistening over your figure.

“Me too, Master,” you whimper, a tempestuous river surging through your veins as you angle your hips repeatedly to meet his thrusts. He seems to understand your desperation, and it’s his turn to comply with your request. His thumb moves towards your pulsing clit and starts circling it in sync with the movement of his other fingers, setting your nerves on fire. 

Perhaps in order to get even more of you in the matter of sound, he goes back to putting his mouth to good use. You let out a shrill cry of pleasure as his mouth meets the breast he was previously fondling, while he expertly curls his fingers up to rub your G-spot after relentlessly scissoring them inside you. His teeth rake across your nipple and you jolt, arching your back in a desperate attempt to get closer. 

He has a look of hunger in his eyes as he stares you down, delighted at the effect he's having on you. "You're doing so well for me, little bird, so fucking wet," The noise that rips from your throat as an answer is halfway between a guttural moan and a desperate whine as your walls spasm and contract around his fingers. "Come for me." He commands in a hiss, resting his glistening forehead against the side of your head as your muscles convulse in staccato. 

You can practically feel stars exploding all over your body in wonderful pinpricks of pleasure as he coaxes from you the most intense orgasm you've ever had. You let out incoherent moans and whimpers while he continues fingering you through your high; you're floating in a bubble of submission and he knows he has to help you land gently on the ground. "I'm so proud of you, baby." He praises softly into your ear before ceasing his ministrations and taking the fingers coated in your release to his own tongue, to your hazy astonishment. 

“Thank you for that.” You breath, a confession of how much you needed to feel once more what he was capable of doing. He nods affectionately in return before distancing himself from you to wander nearby, and at the corner of your eye you see him pouring a red liquid on a small glass cup. You sigh in a bit of a fucked up pride at seeing how tented his sweatpants are. After he’s done, he comes back and hands it to you.

“Drink.”

You don’t question. You throw your sense of self-preservation out of the window perhaps as some kind of punishment to yourself over coming to him and still trusting him like that regardless of everything you went through. After lifting your torso just enough to be able to drink something without choking, you down the cup’s content in one swift gulp, a pleasant, sweet flavor filling your mouth. Your master strokes your hair fondly with a warm smile on his face, and kisses your forehead before you lie down again. “Now, for the main part of the rebirth, you might feel a slight tingling spread across your body as this potion does its magic. But don’t worry. This is the official beginning of a new life for you.” He instructs, now positioning himself between your legs, which he has no problem at all to part. 

Along with the tingling, you begin to feel a sensation of euphoria spreading through your body. Your mind is flooded with intense feelings of pleasure and happiness, and you feel as though you are floating on air.

Everything around you seems brighter and more vibrant than before. You notice the colors of the flowers attached to one of the offerings near you, and the smell of aromatic plants seems more potent - it’s as if a veil has lifted, and you've been given new sight.

As you look at Anakin, who now stands above you revealing what’s hidden below the thick fabric of his pants and positioning his throbbing cock inside your dripping pussy, you find yourself even more drawn to him in a way that you didn’t think was possible. You maniacally reevaluate the entire perception of him in your mind - have you ever truly given him the chance he deserved? You were now sure the things your partner said about him were the unfounded, harmful brainwash. Anakin was the Chosen One! He could do no wrong ever. How could he do wrong if you’re feeling so invincible, so blessed, so in love?

So absurdly, out of your mind wet?

Anakin notices your eagerness, chuckling at how twitchy and desperate you’ve become for him. He mumbles something about how beautiful of a fucktoy you are for him now, how you always have been, and all you can think about is you love the way his mouth moved when he talked. The forward way he set his jaw, making his teeth meet with such delicacy, enunciating every word. You want him to own you, you think before he kisses your sodden mouth and idly strokes himself.

Anakin obliges after a short while, entering you in one swift motion. He lets out a long groan. “Holy shit,” he breathes. You shut your eyes and wrap your arms around his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin when he begins to move, slowly pulling out and in at first. Every sound, every texture, every sensation is amplified to an almost overwhelming degree. You feel surges of energy coursing through your veins every time he reaches spots within you you didn’t even know existed.

His breathing is ragged and his eyes are half closed when you tilt your face up and kiss him sloppily, giving the green light for him to go faster. Your need is urgent, there is no possibility for precision. You wanted to spread the exquisite poison that he had given you. “I love you,” you yelp, “I'm madly in love with you.”

“My little bird,” he heaves, heavy breath syncing up with yours as he moves deliciously inside of you at a growingly unforgiving pace. Anakin lowers his head so his lips can hover over your ear and beckon you with an unholy invitation. “If you really mean it, come back home. Tonight.”

“Fuck. I don’t know if I can--” you whine, your hands palming his chest aimlessly as he fucks you to the moon and back, the loud sound of skin against skin driving you both insane. He’s bestowing upon you a blessing no one ever could, each thrust unceremoniously ripping yelp to pathetic yelp from your throat along with every remaining logical thought inside your head. “Fuck!”

“Of course you fucking know. You’ll always be welcome back home.” he murmurs against your neck in between kisses and bruising nips. ”Come back to me and you can have this everyday. Nothing needs to be the same.” A strong jolt of pleasure rocks you as his hand creeps down your inner thigh to masturbate you while you move against him for more sensation. A long, low moan vibrates in your chest. He shushes you with another deep kiss as your hips buck from the maddening pressure.

Very amused at how drenched you were, how you mewled at his every touch, he manipulates you with teasing circles until it was too much. You dissolve into pleasure so intensely you can barely register the exact moment you soak him as well in your juices, milking him for all that is worth in the way. He doesn’t take long to follow, his hips stuttering as he empties himself inside you in thick spurts that make you feel impressively full. You keep clenching around him, not willing to let him go, a wide smile on his face at his achievement and at the work of art he crafted so masterfully. He’s genuinely fucking brilliant at this.

“Nothing needs to be the same.” You repeat in a drunken stupor, moving hair strands from your sweaty face as you smile back to him, framed perfectly like yet another offering in his marble altar.

Perhaps his most prized one. 

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM THE STAR WARS - THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK SCRIPT *  assorted lines from the 1980 SCRIPT written by lawrence kasdan and leigh brackett (so it might not be accurate to the actual film), adjust as necessary

i've finished my circle and i haven't picked up any life readings.

i'm heading back to the base.

i'll see you shortly.

what's the matter? you smell something?

it's going to be difficult to spot approaching ships.

you're leaving?

you're an extraordinary fighter. i hate to lose you.

well, don't get all mushy on me.

you said you were going to stay. what happened?

don't give me that look.

you're so terrified of your own emotions.

you want me to stay because of the way you feel about me.

i respect you. you're a bold fighter, maybe not the brightest...

you're imagining things.

i say you came running after me because you were afraid i was leaving you without even a kiss.

believe me, you could use a good kiss.

i've had it with your noble mission.

we'll meet again. maybe you'll have grown up a little by then.

i'll see you in hell.

you must survive, [name].

come on, buddy, you aren't dead yet. give me a sign here. don't do this, [name], it's not your time.

we haven't got much time.

nice of you guys to drop by.

we have a visitor.

whatever it is, it isn't friendly.

i'm afraid there's not much left.

now don't panic. we don't know that.

i think we've found them.

how do you know it's them?

does it still hurt?

what would you think if i went away for a while?

what do you mean, you took care of that?

that's two you owe me, junior.

i don't know what he's talking about.

you must have gone completely out of your feeble mind.

we must hold them off until all our ships are safely away.

don't worry. you haven't seen the last of us.

let's get out of here before we become permanent residents.

it's no good! i can't see!

i don't know if there's anyone left alive in there.

someday you're going to be wrong, and i just hope i'm there to see it.

you don't have to do this to impress me.

if you said you thought coming here was a bad idea, i'm beginning to agree with you.

being held by you isn't enough to get me excited.

i must admit there are times i don't understand human behavior.

i'm looking for someone.

hey, that's my dinner!

my hands are dirty.

why are you trembling?

i happen to like nice men.

we've discussed this before.

i will not fail you. i'm not afraid.

that is why you fail.

it's not my fault! i can't understand it!

i'm still not sure what you've accomplished.

not bad, hot shot. not bad.

i feel cold.

i always said you were a gentleman.

sorry, am i interrupting anything?

would you care to join me for a little refreshment?

once you've made this decision, i cannot interfere.

i was worried about you.

i've done what i can for you.

show yourself, or do you fear me?

you'll find i'm full of surprises.

i'll die first.

you are beaten. it is useless to resist.