#the trickery is part of the fun

[favorskill]

ruminating about one of the dynamics knack had with one of her party members way back when ................. she was a noble wizard that knack irritated/annoyed at every single corner LMFAO. she stole from her, constantly, and she even pushed her down a trapdoor  💀

[corroded-hellfire]

April Fool's and Babies Due - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish story ❤️ Written with the best of the best @munson-blurbs

Summary: When you go into labor on April Fool’s Day, Eddie thinks it’s a prank. It’s kind of hard to deny when your water breaks, though.

Notes: The time has come, the day is here 💕

Warnings: childbirth and all that comes with it, there’s a scare but everything is okay, Eddie just about has a panic attack

Words: 9.8k

[As You Wish masterlist]

April Fool's is always an amusing day in the Munson household. A day full of mischief and trickery seems tailor-made for you guys. To no one’s surprise, Luke gets the most into it. Sometimes you think he starts planning next year’s pranks as soon as this year’s ones are done. Ryan has been known to throw a solid prank someone’s way once in a while as well. Personally, it’s hard for you to decide if his pranks against Luke or Eddie are the funniest to witness. 

Your husband can keep up with his sons in regard to the shenanigans. He can usually get one over on you before you don’t trust anything he says for the rest of the day. It’s definitely a day that’s taught you how to think on your toes. 

This year’s April Fool's is the first one Eliza is old enough to truly understand. It’s much easier for her to understand the concept now that she’s four. Of course, she wanted to join in on the Munson fun and prank her brothers and father. Luckily, the simplest tricks gave her immense joy. She placed a whoopee cushion on Eddie’s chair at the dinner table. It was quite evident to your husband that something was off when the cushion of the seat was raised several inches higher than usual. One glance at the little girl biting her lip and clenching her fists was enough to broadcast that she’s the one waiting in anticipation to see how it goes. Of course, Eddie sits down on the cushion and the fart noise that comes out sends Eliza into hysterics.

“I got you, Daddy!” She cheers. 

“You got me, sweet pea!”

The pranks pulled on you this year were pretty mild, and you give full credit to the babies growing inside of you. No one wants to truly scare a pregnant woman who is at 35 weeks. The bag of Luke’s Lucky Charms shoved into your Rice Krispies box did manage to catch you off guard. You chuckled at the rainbow in your cereal bowl as you poured in the milk. Ryan switched half of the family photos in the living room to pictures of different actors. It was certainly amusing to see Johnny Depp posing on the red carpet right next to your wedding photo. 

Eddie’s prank on you was a good one, you eventually admitted to him. For days on end, you had been telling Eddie how you were craving Chinese food. He kept saying he would pick some up this week. So, when Wednesday came and he said he was bringing home your favorite, you saw red when he walked through the front door with a pizza box. 

“Eddie, what the hell?” you’d asked.

“What?”

“You said you were getting Chinese.”

“Huh? I thought you wanted pizza, princess,” he’d said. 

You whined and rubbed your hands over your face. Part of you wanted to cry, actually. You’d been looking forward to this for so long.

“Well, maybe you’ll like the kind of pizza I got?” Eddie set the box down on the counter and opened the lid to reveal Styrofoam containers overflowing with noodles and rice. 

“You’re such a dick,” you whined with a laugh. 

“But you love me anyway.”

He had a point.

You told everyone the day before April Fool’s that you wouldn’t be pulling any pranks because you didn’t have the energy to devise any. Of course, none of them believed you and were on the lookout the entire day. Even if you did have something planned, the pressure near your pelvis kept your mind pretty occupied. The doctor said that it’s to be expected the further along you go, with the twins bearing down, ready to get into position. But the pressure seemed to be just a little worse today. 

“Feeling okay, baby?” Eddie asks as he takes his watch off for bed. 

“Yeah,” you say with a sigh as you waddle over to your side of the bed. “This damn feeling like they’re pressing on all my organs down there is a pain in the ass.”

“Literally?” Your husband gives you a playful smirk as he pulls down the blankets on your bed.

“Kinda feels like it, yeah,” you reply. 

It takes some effort to get into bed and get comfortable under the blankets. Eddie sits on his side, attentively monitoring to see if you’ll need his help or not. Once you’re settled back against your pillows, you give him a thumbs up.

“Good to go,” you say. 

Eddie slides closer to you beneath the blankets until his legs are pressed up against yours. Gently, he lifts your chin and leans in to press his lips to yours. 

“I love you, gorgeous.”

When he pulls away, you’re glaring up at him—not too fiercely, but enough to let him know you’re not exactly feeling the pet name at the moment.

“I love you, too, Daredevil.”

“Daredevil?” Eddie cocks a brow.

“He’s blind right?” You stretch your arm out haphazardly in the direction of the stairs in your home—near where your youngest son’s room is. “That’s what Luke said. Talking about that movie with Ben Affleck or something? Ugh, I don’t know.” You heave a deep breath and let your hand fall onto your protruding belly.

“And why am I blind?” Eddie asks as he scoots himself back over to his side of the bed. 

“That little term of endearment you gave me.”

Eddie sighs and looks back over at you.

“We gonna do this again?” he asks. “How many times do I have to knock you up for you to get that you’re so fucking hot pregnant?”

“Okay, I’m even putting that aside,” you say, swiping a hand in front of you. “I’m just a mess lately. No sleep. Pain. Harder to do basic shit, even like, brush my hair.”

“You’re just being a Mrs. Grumpy Gills because you’re so uncomfortable right now.” Eddie lays back against his pillows and tucks one arm behind his head.

Your eyebrows raise as you slowly turn your head to meet your husband’s gaze. 

“Did you just call me, ‘Mrs. Grumpy Gills?’”

He groans and flops his other arm down across his face.

“Ugh. You know, I appreciate the boys taking Eliza out places lately, I really, really do. But did they have to go to the goddamn aquarium? It led to this Finding Nemo phase that seems never ending.”

“How many times has she made you watch it now?” you ask.

“Shit, I lost count.” Eddie chuckles and lowers his pale, tattooed arm from his face onto his chest. 

Another pulse strikes your pelvic area and even irritates your lower back this time. Your face scrunches up as you squirm around a little, coming to the realization that there is no feasible way to rub your lower back at the moment. Last time your back hurt this way, rubbing it helped, you remember. God, it’s hard for you to even remember the last time you had that pain down there. The last time must’ve been…nah, it’s just the pressure the doctor told you about getting worse. Isn’t it?

“Goodnight, princess,” Eddie says, reaching over and ghosting his knuckles along your jawline. 

“Goodnight, Crush the Turtle.”

Eddie scoffs and playfully swats at you before leaning the other way to turn off his bedside lamp. 

The room plunges into darkness. The pain spasms in your back again and this time you sure as hell know what that was. You stretch as far as you can to click on the bedside lamp on your end. 

“Hmm?” Eddie pushes himself up onto an elbow and looks at you in concern. “What? What is it?”

“Shit,” you mutter as you try to push yourself up to a seated position. “Eds, I’m having contractions. This isn’t the carrying low crap anymore.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, and he goes to get up, but then he pauses. A smile grows on his lips, and he shakes his head as he settles back down again.

“Nice try, babe,” he says. 

“What?” You furrow your brow and rest your hands on your bump. 

“I’m not falling for it,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. “You thought if you waited until the end of the day, you’d be able to get me. But I’m wise to you.”

“Eddie, I’m serious,” you get out through gritted teeth. 

“Sweetheart.” Eddie rolls his eyes. “You’re talking to the man who once pranked his uncle by bringing a raccoon into his trailer. You’re gonna have to up your game.”

Pain rattles in your lower back once more. You’re this close to calling Wayne right now and scolding him for raising an absolute moron. But those plans are put on hold when you feel a trickle of liquid between your legs. 

You pull back the blankets and point towards your pajama shorts. “I’m. Not. Joking.”

Eddie’s eyebrows nearly scrape his hairline. “Oh, shit.” He sits up straighter, his body tensing. “Is that—”

“Yes,” you practically hiss. “And unless you want to accuse me of peeing myself to ‘keep the prank going,’ I suggest you get your ass in gear.”

“Y-Yeah. No. I mean, my ass is gearing. In gear.” Christ, this is his fourth time doing this, and he’s acting like it’s his first. “You wanna get changed, or…”

You bite your tongue to keep from making a snarky comment about hoping you get to sit in your amniotic fluid. “Yeah. Grab that god awful purple dress? I’m not putting on pants.”

After he gets you dressed, he helps you down the stairs to the ground level of your home.

“Why’d we buy a goddamn two-story?” you grumble. 

Eddie isn’t dumb, so he doesn’t remind you that you’re the one who fell in love with this house the minute you stepped inside. He leads you into the bonus room—soon to become the younger kids’ playroom—that’s between Luke and Ryan’s rooms, and gets you situated on the futon in there. 

“Ryan’s probably still awake.” Eddie instinctively looks at his wrist where his watch should be, but he forgot to put it on, all his focus securely on you. 

Even though it’s a school night, Ryan is still a seventeen-year-old boy, and he’s not going to go to sleep just because his parents told him to. He’ll give you guys going into his room at a certain time, but no way is he going to go right to bed.

Eddie knocks on Ryan’s door, hand itching to grab the handle and just barge in, but he restrains himself and waits for Ryan’s soft reply of, “Come in.”

The look on your son’s face as he tugs out his earbuds tells Eddie that he was prepared to be reprimanded about being up still, listening to music and reading. But Eddie is honestly thankful he’s still awake. 

“Ry,” Eddie says and ignores the little huff of annoyance the boy gives in return. “I need you to listen out for Eliza if she wakes up. We need to head to the hospital.”

Ryan is instantly up off his bed, his eyes wide as he pushes past his father in the doorway.

“The babies are coming?” Ryan’s head swivels until he spots you on the futon.

Mere feet away from the two Munson men, Luke’s bedroom door swings open, and his curly-haired head pops out into the hallway. Patch takes advantage of the fourteen-year-old’s door opening and darts out. 

“The babies are coming?!”

It will never cease to amaze Eddie that Luke won’t hear shit going on if he’s watching television, but he can have selected bat sonar hearing when he wants. 

Somehow managing to push yourself up off the futon, after scratching Patch’s ears and assuring him that you’re okay, you waddle over to the three of them, one hand on your belly and one on your back. You’re already practicing the breathing techniques you read about a few months ago. 

“Yeah,” you answer both boys. “Unless they’re learning how to pull an awesome April Fool’s Day gag.”

“They’re Munsons,” Luke says with a shrug. “I honestly wouldn’t be surprised.”

Wincing your way through a contraction, you move the hand on your belly to rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Do you have the hospital bag, Eds?” you ask.

“Shit,” Eddie grunts, dropping his head back. “Can one of you help her to the car while I go grab the bag?”

In true competitive brother spirit, they both insist on helping you. Nothing can be simple with them. 

Ryan grabs your jacket from the closet near the front door and helps you maneuver your arms into the sleeves. Luke kneels down and helps you slip into your comfiest pair of boots. It might technically be spring outside now, but it’s still chilly these Indiana nights. 

“Alright,” Eddie says as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, the hospital bag slung over his shoulder. “We ready to go?”

“Yes,” you groan and turn towards the door. 

But the sound of small, yet very heavy, footsteps upstairs gives you pause. They thunk down the stairs and you see a sleepy Eliza, one hand rubbing her eye, the other clutching her gold stuffed dragon Darla by the hand—or claw. 

“Wha’s goin’ on?” she mutters. 

Eddie steps forward to press a kiss to the top of her unruly curls.

“I’m taking Mommy to the hospital because it’s time for the babies to come.”

As he finishes his sentence, a rough contraction hits, this one feeling a little deeper. You wince and reach out to grab something to brace against. Ryan’s shoulder was the closest thing, so your fingers are curled into his pajama shirt. 

Eliza watches it all, her eyes widening as she sees her mother in pain. 

“Mama?” She dodges through everyone to get to you and slips her small hand into your larger one.

You do your best to smile through the pain, trying to reassure the little girl that you’re okay. 

“I’m okay, sweet pea. I just get a pain in my belly to let me know the babies are coming.”

The over-tired four-year-old’s bottom lip begins to wobble. Her emotions get the better of her, and the real crying starts. 

“I wanna come,” she says through her sniffles. 

Eddie crouches down and presses a kiss against her forehead. 

“You’re going to stay here with your brothers, okay? Ryan will tuck you in, and when you wake up in the morning, the babies should be here.”

Eliza shakes her head. “I wanna stay with Mama! Not the boys!” 

“You don’t have to say it like that,” Luke mumbles under his breath. 

You smooth back her hair, trying to diffuse the situation without wasting precious time. The last thing you want to do is deliver two babies on the kitchen floor. 

“It’s okay, baby. I’ll have Daddy with me, and you know he would never let anything happen to me.”

Another contraction grips you, and you squeeze Eddie’s hand in warning. If Eliza sees how much pain you’re in, she’ll never let you go. 

Luckily, Eddie receives your silent message. He crouches down in front of Eliza and offers her a reassuring smile. Fairly convincing considering the man is a bundle of nerves. 

“We’ll call you guys when the babies are born, okay? Even if it’s still nighttime and you’re still asleep. How about you go pick out a movie, and your brothers will watch it with you? Patch too, I bet. How about Mulan? Or Pocahontas?”

Ryan holds out his hand, which Eliza tepidly takes. “Come on. Let’s go pick something out.”

Eddie stands up in time to see Luke raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Isn’t it past her bedtime?”

His father leans in and whispers, “She’ll be out in less than half an hour; she just needs a distraction. Here.” Eddie hands Luke the hospital bag. “Bring this to the car, please.”

Luke dashes out to the car, drawing Eliza’s attention. She’d started to go with Ryan, but all plans for a movie are tossed out the window when she remembers that you’re leaving. 

Two little arms wrap around your thighs. “Mama, I wanna go with you!”

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” You rub her back, trying to ignore the gnawing guilt. “I love you.”

Eliza sniffles but reluctantly unravels herself. “I love you too.”

Eddie leans down and gives her one last kiss before putting his hand on the small of your back, helping you into the car.

He takes off down the road at warp speed.

“How you feeling, baby?” Eddie glances over at you before returning his attention to the dark road stretched out ahead of you. Trees line both sides of the highway and the only light comes from the full moon straight above you. 

One of your hands is gripping the handle on the roof, just above the car door. The other hand is splayed out on the console between you and Eddie, your nails digging into the leather. 

“Pain,” you grunt out. Your legs are spread, your booted feet bracing you against the floor mats.

Eddie nods, a sigh coming out of his nose like an anxious puff of air. 

“Do you want to listen to some music?” he asks. 

“No,” you shake your head and wince when another contraction starts. 

“Do-Do you want to talk? Or do you want quiet?” Eddie just wants to make sure he can give you whatever makes you the most comfortable and at ease.

“Um.” You lick over your dry lips as you breathe through the contraction. “Quiet, I-I think.”

The drive to Hawkins Regional Hospital should only take about ten more minutes, but that feels like an eternity with the rate of intense spasms that wrack your lower body. The dull roar of the engine provides a soothing soundtrack as you close your eyes and rest your head back. You are only allowed a few brief moments of relaxation, though. A pop echoes out in the space of the car.

“What was—” Eddie goes to ask before he hears you.

“Oh boy.”

“What?” Eddie asks, trying to glance over at you, but also doing his damndest to get you both safely to the hospital as soon as possible. 

A trickle of water leaks down the insides of your legs, the sound not far off from when you’re out on a walk with Patch and he lifts his back leg to relieve himself on a fire hydrant. 

Now, Eddie can see the pool of water gathering on the mat between your boots. He nods his head as he slowly increases the pressure on the gas pedal. 

“Good call on the no pants,” he says. 

Not a minute after fluid stops leaking down your legs, you feel a shift inside you. 

“Whoa.” You give a small jump as it catches you by surprise. One hand comes up to rub over your swollen belly. “Baby Number Two is squirmy right now, geez.”

Luckily, Eddie turns the car into the emergency room parking lot and pulls right up to the automatic double doors. He leaps out of the car, and rushes inside to get some help. He comes back with a small Calvary. A male and a female nurse both help you into the wheelchair they’ve brought out, and various medical team members hover by for one reason or another. You don’t have the mental energy to give a shit at the moment. 

“I’m just gonna go park the car. I’ll be right back, okay baby?”

You don’t have much of a choice as an orderly forcefully pushes you through the sliding glass doors and into the main atrium. Your wet dress beneath you is unpleasant, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the contraction that strikes as you’re wheeled into the elevator. 

The minutes feel like hours between the pain and not having Eddie at your side. Mentally, you try and calculate how long it will take him to find a spot, get back into the building, ask reception where you are, then make his way back to you. It’s too damn long in your opinion.

Mint green walls greet you as you’re brought into your room. The white linoleum floors that squeak under nurses’ sneakers and the distinct tang of antiseptic shout out that this is still a hospital room, no matter how nice they make everything else look.

“Okay, Mrs. Munson, let’s get you all set up.”

A hospital gown has never been a more welcome sight than when you’ve been sitting in amniotic fluid for the last twenty minutes. A nurse helps you change before helping you get comfortable in the bed—or as comfortable as you can possibly be. The medical team works like a well-oiled machine as they insert your IV, slip a blood pressure cuff on your arm, a finger sensor to monitor your oxygen, and two heart rate belts around your belly—one for each twin. 

Just as they’re securing the last belt into place, Eddie bursts into the room, his cheeks red and forehead dotted with sweat from exertion. With the way his breathing is labored, he looks like the one who should be hooked up to medical equipment. 

“Hey, baby,” he breathes out with a sigh. He dodges through the staff to get to your bedside. 

You’ve always known there were going to be more medical professionals in the room this time around because it’s twins, but it’s still a little nerve-wracking because it feels more intense than when you had Eliza. On one hand, it becomes scarier because you know there are more risks associated with twin births, but on the other hand, it’s reassuring that there is more help around you. 

“Eds.” You reach for his hand, and he’s quick to lace his fingers with yours. He presses a kiss to your forehead and then your knuckles. The backpack from home lands at his feet as he gives all of his attention to you. 

“How you feeling, princess?”

“I’m okay.” Both of you hear the slight shake in your voice, but Eddie doesn’t comment on it. 

“I heard someone ordered two babies today, huh?” Dr. Hahn smiles as she walks into your room. She gives you a playful wink as she grabs two latex gloves and slips them on. “Let’s check on the little rascals, shall we?”

Eddie tries to keep your focus on him as Dr. Hahn starts checking to see how dilated you are. 

“I brought the list of names,” he tells you with a soft chuckle. “I slipped it into the backpack.”

“Good.” You nod. “Still gotta narrow some of those down.” 

“Should we take bets on the sexes?” he asks.

The question brings a smile to your face, but you shake your head.

“I’ll leave the betting to the boys. As long as the babies are healthy, I’m happy.”

“The fact that it became double or nothing when they found out there are twins still brings me such joy.” 

“Not necessarily,” you counter, but giggle at his words anyway. “Could be one of each. Then they both win. Or lose.”

“Who bet on what again?” Eddie asks, wrinkling his nose up in thought. 

“Ryan said girl, Luke said boy.”

“Right. And I do love how they both have the Care Bear onesie they want the other to wear already picked out.”

“Okay,” Dr. Hahn says, not giving you a chance to respond to your husband. “It shouldn’t be very long at all. Second babies always come faster and so do twins. And you’re batting two for two there.”

“Thank you, Dr,” you say. 

When Eliza was born, you remember it feeling like a lifetime before you started pushing. You know this pregnancy and delivery are different than when you had your little sweet pea, but it’s hard not to compare this situation to the only comparable one you’ve ever been in before.

Dr. Hahn wasn’t kidding when she said it shouldn’t be very long. A glance at the clock on the wall tells you that you’ve only been in this bed for fifteen minutes before you’re told it’s time to start pushing. 

Eddie is ready at your side, one of his hands holding yours and the other squeezing your shoulder in gentle encouragement. A nurse stands on your other side, also holding your hand to help brace you for the exertion of pushing. 

“We’re about to push now, Mrs. Munson,” Dr. Hahn says from the foot of the bed. 

You nod, any words dying on your tongue as you feel the telltale signs of a contraction beginning. 

“Come on, sweetheart, you’ve got this.” Eddie rubs his hand soothingly over your shoulder blade as you lean forward, garnering the momentum to get things going. 

“Okay, Mrs. Munson, push!”

You grit your teeth and squeeze both Eddie’s and the nurse’s hands as you do what you’re told. The grip you have on both people at your sides has to be hurting them, but they’re both troopers and don’t so much as flinch. 

“That’s it, baby,” Eddie encourages. 

“You’re doing great,” Dr. Hahn adds. “Keep it up.”

Keep it up? You know you have to, but your body is already exhausted. And you have a whole other baby to push out after this one. You silently decide that any woman who has delivered triplets or higher deserves a Medal of Honor. Twins are difficult enough. 

“Ah, here we go. I see the head,” Dr. Hahn says. 

A groan that’s a mixture of exertion and pain claws its way free on your next push. 

“Almost there, princess.” Eddie holds your hand in both of his and presses kisses against your white, straining knuckles. 

“Here’s the head. Alright, Mrs. Munson, we’re going to do one more really big push, okay?”

“Okay,” you squeak out through clenched teeth.

“Big push on three, okay? One, two, three.”

A strangled scream gets caught in your throat as you put all of your effort into getting this baby out of you. 

“There we go, good job,” Dr. Hahn praises. “Almost there, almost there…”

A shrill cry fills the room, and you fall back against your pillows, drenched in sweat and breathing like you just finished running a 5k. But you smile. It’s impossible not to with that beautiful noise coming from your newest child. 

“It’s a boy!” Dr. Hahn announces. The nurses wipe down your son—your son—as the doctor turns to Eddie. “Cutting the cord?”

“Of course.” Eddie carefully snips the cord where Dr. Hahn instructs, though he probably memorized the procedure. After all, this is his fourth kid. 

Dr. Hahn checks the position of the other baby before placing your wailing son on your chest. “Take a moment before the next baby arrives,” she says gently. 

You press a kiss to the baby’s scalp. He’s so perfect, so little and sweet. Even his cries are adorable. One tiny fist rests just above your breast as he soothes himself to your heartbeat. 

“Another boy,” Eddie muses. “We have three sons now.”

“Eliza is not going to be thrilled if there’s a fourth,” you say, though you know your daughter will probably claim the babies as her own, regardless of their genders. 

Eddie kisses your forehead. “I can’t believe this. I…” he swallows the emotion choking his throat. “…I love him so much already.”

“Me, too.” You smile, glancing down at the baby once again. Tears blur your vision. “Hi, sweet boy. I’m your mommy. Aw, I know, I know. It’s bright here on the outside.”

Eddie leans in, tears leaking out as he beams at his new son. “Hi, pal! We got another Munson man here to drive Mommy and Eliza crazy, huh? Welcome to the team.”

Dr. Hahn clears her throat kindly. “Baby B can arrive any time in the next five to thirty minutes,” she explains. “When you feel the urge to push, tell us.”

You nod, barely paying attention to her directions. You’re too in love with the little boy pressed to your heart. After a few minutes of cooing over him, a nurse offers to take the baby to be cleaned and get his vitals taken. 

After both of you keep your eyes glued to your new son as he’s being assessed, Eddie leans in and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” he asks.

You tilt your head up and gaze at him with a sleepy smile.

“Exhausted. But so happy,” you tell him. “The contractions don’t feel as painful anymore.”

“That’s better. Now you’re all snuggled up.” A nurse smiles down at your son as she carries him in your direction. “Do you want to see your Daddy? He’s been waiting a long time to meet you.”

“He is absolutely worth the wait,” Eddie says as he accepts the baby. Pure pride gleams in your husband’s eyes as he takes in all the details of your son. The little button nose that scrunches just a bit whenever anyone makes too loud of a noise. The already-dark eyelashes that flutter against the apples of his rosy cheeks. “He’s perfect.”

Eddie takes a few steps closer to your bed and sits on the edge, twisting so you can see both him and the baby. The sight of your husband holding your baby boy brings tears to your eyes, which you quickly wipe away. Nothing is going to obscure your vision while you’re admiring your boys—not even tears.

“Hi, sweetheart.” You reach out and run your index finger over the small knuckles that are clenched into fists. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Just like his mom,” Eddie says.

With a bashful smile, you hide your face against the sleeve of Eddie’s t-shirt. 

“Any names in mind?” Dr. Hahn looks up at you from where she’s reading over a chart. She gives you a smile when your eyes meet. 

“We have a handful of names,” you say, gaze turning back on your son. “We didn’t know the sexes beforehand, so we had to come up with a little collection to consider.”

“Smart,” Dr. Hahn says with a nod. “A lot of people who don’t find out the sex beforehand find unisex names.”

“We’ve got a few of those on the list,” Eddie confirms. 

To you, it feels like you’ve been holding your newborn for mere minutes, but your husband has been glancing at the clock every so often, his pulse speeding up every time you get closer to the thirty-minute mark Dr. Hahn mentioned. He notices you haven’t winced or appeared in pain from contractions during this time either. The last thing he wants to do is worry you as well, so he keeps quiet but keeps tabs on the medical team in the room, trusting they have control of everything. 

The moment the clock strikes thirty-one minutes past the first birth, a nurse comes over and gives you a kind smile.

“Okay, Mom, we’re going to start focusing on the next birth now. I’ll keep your little boy safe and sound over here in his cozy bassinet.” 

Reluctantly, you watch her take the little bundle and Eddie stands up from the edge of the bed. The nurse rolls the bassinet right on the other side of Eddie, so your husband is between you and the baby. 

Dr. Hahn walks over to the other side of your bed and tilts her head as she looks at you.

“I notice we’ve had contractions slowing down,” she says. “That happens sometimes, but we want to make sure we get them going again. I just sent for some Pitocin, which will kick them back into gear. Just hang tight for a few, and then we’ll get your other bundle of joy out here for you to hold.”

Eddie nods at the doctor, too nervous to thank her aloud. He doesn’t want to risk you hearing any trepidation or warble in his tone. You heard the doc, he says to himself. This happens sometimes. 

He releases a sigh of relief when the medication arrives only two minutes later. A nurse injects it into your IV line, and all Eddie can do is stare at the clock again. Next to him, your son begins to cry, so Eddie bends over him and gently strokes his beanie-clad head.

“It’s okay, buddy,” he says. “I know, you miss Mommy, huh?”

A little hand reaches up towards the sky, and Eddie slips his forefinger into the tiny grasp. He chuckles at how tight of a grip the tiny man has on him. 

“Alright, looks like we’ve got a contraction coming,” Dr. Hahn says, looking at the monitor near your head.

“Ah, shit,” you groan as a familiar wave of pain crashes over your body. 

Eddie is torn between the attention of the baby and wanting to hold your hand for support. Luckily, the bed and the bassinet are close enough that he’s able to hold both of your hands at once. Another glance at the clock tells him you’re closing in on forty minutes since the last birth. His heart hammers in his chest, the nerves right on the tipping point of becoming true fear. 

At minute forty-five, Dr. Hahn takes up her position at the foot of the bed again. 

“Okay, Mrs. Munson. It’s time to start pushing again.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Eddie encourages. “You got this.”

You nod at him before taking a deep breath, mentally psyching yourself up for another round. 

The pushing starts off just as it did last time. But after already doing this once and having the intensity and pain of the contractions come back within a matter of minutes, you find yourself overwhelmed. You wish for the moment you had not ten minutes ago, holding your son with your husband by your side. All smiles and excitement. The stabbing pain reminds you that that moment isn’t here anymore. Suddenly, the lights in the room feel hotter. The beeping of machinery sounds louder. All senses have been dialed up to eleven, as if the medication they gave you not only kicked the contractions into gear, but every other function of your body as well. 

As attuned to you as always, Eddie gives your hand a squeeze of encouragement. That small act of affection is enough to give you the strength for another push. 

“Okay, we’ve got the head,” Dr. Hahn says. 

“Agh!”

Eddie’s brow instantly furrows. This is the third time he’s seen you give birth, and you’ve never made that exclamation of pain before.

“What?” he asks urgently. 

Dr. Hahn looks over her shoulder and calls to the medical team, “We have a shoulder dystocia.”

“A what?” Eddie asks. 

“What’s wrong?” you pant out through labored breaths, face still pinched in pain. 

Dr. Hahn turns back towards you while one nurse steps out of the room, and two others come closer to the bed.

“Your baby’s shoulders are stuck, Mrs. Munson. We’re going to help them out now.” She turns to the nurses approaching the bed. “Let’s get her into McRoberts.”

Eddie’s stomach falls through the floor. Your baby is stuck? A shoulder what? Dystocia? What the hell is that? And what is McRoberts?

“Stuck?” is all Eddie manages to squeak out.

Dr. Hahn nods as the first nurse returns with, what looks like, other doctors. That can’t be a good sign, Eddie decides.

“Stuck on the pelvic bone,” Dr. Hahn says. “Mrs. Munson, we’re going to try and get you into a different position to see if that helps.”

“Okay.” Your voice is small, a punch to Eddie’s gut. 

“Mr. Munson, could you just step back a little bit? Nurse Jennifer needs to get in on that side.”

The moment Eddie’s hand lets go of yours, he feels like he’s going to be sick. The urge to push back in and wrap you up in his embrace is strong, but the logical part of his brain tells him he needs to stay out of the way and let the medical professionals do their job. The emotional part wants to kick that logical part’s ass though. 

“Mrs. Munson, Nurse Jennifer is going to work on that leg, pushing your knee up toward your chest, and Nurse Peter is going to do it with this leg. Don’t push while they do this, okay? Just breathe. Here we go.”

Eddie watches as each nurse takes one of your legs and hikes them up towards your head. He bounces from foot to foot, his hands coming up to rub over his face, his hair, his neck, anywhere to expel some of that nervous energy. Every terrifying thought flashes through his mind. What if I lose her? What if we lose the baby? What if I lose them both? His entire world hangs in the balance and there isn’t a damn thing he can do about it. He’s never felt so helpless in his entire life. There’s quite literally nothing he can do but stand there and watch it all happen.

A deep breath doesn’t do much to calm Eddie, but it helps enough for him to take a moment to lean down and whisper to your new son, “Use some of that twin telepathy, okay? You’re both Munsons and Munsons are strong. And no one is stronger than your Mama.”

It’s hard for Eddie to see you as Nurse Jennifer stands closer to your head now, holding your leg up at this new angle. Your husband looks up and sees the other medical staff hovering, which, in theory, should be comforting, but it just adds to the stress and fear he’s drowning in. 

“Is the baby okay?” your strained voice asks. 

“The baby is fine,” Dr. Hahn assures you—assures you both. “We’re just going to have to work a little harder, that’s all. Now, big push for me, okay?”

Your pained moans make Eddie’s heart ache. Nurse Jennifer steps slightly closer to your head, so Eddie takes advantage of the open spot between her and the foot of the bed. He’s standing just above where your pelvis is and he takes in every little detail of you, scanning for any and all possible issues. Your head flops back against the pillow and weakly tumbles to the side.

“Why don’t you try talking to her?” 

Eddie looks up to see that Nurse Peter is talking to him. The nurse nods his head towards your struggling form on the bed.

“Encourage her, keep her focused,” he says.

For the first time in his life, your husband doesn’t know what to say. 

Eddie nods and licks over his lips. For some reason, he wipes his sweaty palms on the sides of his jeans. He mentally wonders what the hell he’s doing as he thinks about everything that you mean to him. His mouth opens and he just goes with it, becoming a pure stream of consciousness. 

“You’re so goddamn strong, Sweetheart. You pushed out one baby and now you’re about to push out another. Even with all of these tubes and needles and beeping things, you’re doing it. I could never do it. I mean, not just because I’m missing the, uh, parts—”

“Eddie,” you choke out as another bead of sweat slides down the side of your face.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Shut up about your ‘parts,’” you choke out with a terse huff of laughter. 

Eddie shakes his head before continuing. 

“You got this. You’re gonna push out this baby and our little family—well, not that little—will be complete. All because of you. Just keep going, okay? I’m right here.”

“Good, good, we’re making progress,” Dr. Hahn says. “Baby is coming out now. Mr. Munson, do you want to watch?”

If she had asked with the first baby, he probably would have said yes. But with all the adrenaline and emotion coursing through his body right now? He is not up to the task. 

“I think I’m gonna stay in this region over here,” he motions around your head and upper body area.

“We’re almost there. Keep pushing, Mama, you’re doing great.”

“You’ve got this, princess,” Eddie adds. “I’m so incredibly proud of you.”

“There we go!” Dr. Hahn says. “She’s here.”

“She?” you ask, pain and weariness falling to the background now that your second baby is finally out. Tears stream rivulets down your face, but you refuse to let them keep you from speaking. 

“She,” your doctor affirms with a nod. “It’s a girl.”

“Is she okay?” Eddie asks. 

Dr. Hahn looks over her shoulder at where the newly-brought-in medical staff is.

“Neonatal—check for distress.”

A man in scrubs takes the baby from Dr. Hahn and brings her over to where her brother’s vitals were taken. You feel like you’re holding your breath, though. 

The nurses who held your legs gently release them back down and step out of the way so Eddie can get to you properly. He immediately cups your face in his hands and presses his lips against yours. Both of you have ragged breaths so he doesn’t hold the kiss for long. But once he pulls away, he’s kissing every part of you he can get his mouth on. Your face and hair are both drenched in sweat, but Eddie could not care less. You’re here and you’re safe and Eddie feels like he could collapse in your arms.

It’s quiet in the room though. The machines are still beeping. Sneakers still squeak against the linoleum. But it’s too quiet and it steals the breath from your chest. Oxygen is sucked out of the room and time seems to stop as your muscles lock and you freeze completely still. A very vital sound is missing.

A few deep inhales followed by a piercing cry cause you to fall apart. She’s breathing. Your baby is breathing and crying. Sobs wrack your body, and you lean into Eddie’s touch. He gently cradles your head as you wrap your arms tight as a vice around his waist. 

“She’s okay,” you say to yourself between sniffles. 

“You’re both okay,” Eddie responds. 

A few drops of water fall onto your forehead. You look up to see Eddie crying almost as hard as you are. Seeing the raw emotion pouring out of him tugs at your already sensitive heart. Your face crumples, and you fall into another round of sobs as you bury your face against his shirt. 

Both you and Eddie get the worst of your emotions out before you try to compose one another. By the time you do that, your little girl has been checked over and cleared. Nurse Jennifer walks over with your youngest baby, all bundled up in a white blanket dotted with pale yellow and green polka dots. A small pink cap is situated on her tiny head, and you couldn’t be smiling any wider as you accept her from the nurse. 

Every emotion and every hormone are surging through your body right now. The adrenaline crash has left you worn out and weak. But the moment you hold that baby girl, none of it matters.

When you look down at her, you see that your daughter is looking right back at you. A brighter grin than you would’ve thought possible to muster lights up your face. Slitted eyes take in your face almost as much as you’re taking in hers.

“There you are, gorgeous.” Your words are soft and as gentle as the newborns’ skin. 

Eddie wipes at his eyes and leans against the side of the bed. His head tilts to the side while he takes all of her in. The pink puckered lips. The sparse eyebrows that already twitch as if she’s displaying all of her emotions through them. She has him wrapped around her finger already.

“Hi, little angel,” Eddie says. “You’re already trying to upstage your brother, huh?”

You let out a soft chuckle.

“Oh boy. Are we gonna have two dramatic little girls on our hands?”

You lean down and press a kiss to her smooth, unblemished forehead. The last thing you want to do is take your lips off of her, but you know Eddie is itching to hold her. 

Gently and carefully, you transfer your baby to her father. 

Once she’s in his arms, he does his damndest not to cry. To no one’s surprise, it doesn’t work very well. The memory of always wanting a baby girl when he was younger comes rushing back to him. Something in him always knew he was meant to be a boy dad and a girl dad, and he was just waiting for the opportunity for the second one to come along. And now here he is. The father to two daughters. Three boys and two little girls with the woman of his dreams. 

A faint beeping is the first thing you register. A phone? No. A smoke detector? No. Oh shit, that’s the monitor you’re hooked up to. 

Slowly, your eyes blink open only to be assaulted by the bright fluorescent light directly above you. You squint and shield your eyes as they adjust. 

A deep soreness permeates most of your body, but you feel rested and refreshed after getting some sleep. Eddie could see how tired you were and was eventually able to talk you into a nap. Something you assumed he would also take. But when you look towards the window, you see your husband sitting in an armchair, completely bleary-eyed, as he holds one of your babies. The baby is asleep though, so that’s something, you suppose. 

“Eds?” you call, voice a hair above a whisper. “Did you get any sleep?”

A tired smile graces his lips as he shakes his head. Gently, he stands up and lays the baby (who you can now see is your daughter) in her bassinet right next to her brother’s. 

Eddie goes to take a seat on the edge of your bed, but you carefully move over so there’s enough room for him to properly sit next to you, side by side. 

“I called the kids,” Eddie says as he situates himself. 

“Were they awake?” You look up at him and let out a large yawn. “Wait, what time is it now? What time did I even give birth?”

Eddie delicately wraps his arms around your shoulders to tuck you into his side.

“It’s almost 3 am now. I called around two, and the boys were still awake. Eliza fell asleep around half an hour after we left. The boys asked if the twins are girls or boys, but I told them they’d have to wait to see until they can meet them in the morning.”

You let out a sleepy chuckle as you let your head rest against your husband’s shoulder.

“Gonna keep the suspense on that bet going for as long as possible, huh?”

“Absolutely,” he says with a grin. “And Baby Boy Munson was born at 12:28 and Baby Girl Munson was born at 1:26.” 

Though he doesn’t say anything else, you’ve known Eddie long enough to know that he wants to. His lips keep moving, as if he’s trying to psych them up to form words. You’re not going to pressure him, though. You give him time to gather his thoughts. It only takes a few minutes.

“Sweetheart, I…” he trails off and tears fill his eyes. “I was so fucking scared before. First, the baby is late, and your contractions went down. Then she gets stuck on the way out. Babe, every horrible scenario was running through my head. I was terrified I was going to lose you and a baby at the same time.” He sniffles and shakes his head, a hauntingly devastated look in his eyes. “Even if we hadn’t already decided that we’re not going to have any more kids, this would’ve convinced me. I can’t bear thinking about that, or something worse, happening again.”

“Oh, Eddie…” You slowly reach up and cup Eddie’s face in your hands. One thumb traces along his cheek bone. “It was scary. All I kept thinking was that I need her to be safe.”

“What about you?” Eddie asks. 

You take one hand off of Eddie’s face and wave it dismissively in the air. He gives you a reproachful look before you speak.

“I wasn’t thinking of me. Just that little baby who’s been with me for nine months. She was all that mattered in that moment. And Eddie?” You do your best to sit up a little straighter so you can look him in the eye. “If we hadn’t decided to not have any more kids, I’d have so many more of your babies. This didn’t deter me at all. It was a scary few moments, but now we have the rest of our lives with these little miracles. I’ll take that trade any day.”

Eddie sighs. He knows it would be a moot point to argue with you. Though you might not be a Munson by blood, just the name is enough for you to be considered stubborn and hard-headed. Nothing he could say would get you to put the importance of your own safety on the same level as your baby’s. But he knows if the roles were reversed, he would be the same way. You know it too and would absolutely wield that against him in a debate. The thought makes Eddie chuckle softly. He loves how he knows you so well, and how stubborn you can be—though he’s careful to never admit that out loud. 

“I love you so goddamn much,” he mutters.

“I love you, too.”

Eddie shifts carefully, handling you like you’re as fragile as porcelain. Part of you wants to tell him to cut it out, but the amount of pain you’re in makes it hard to argue with his gentle demeanor. His moves are slow and intentional as he cups the back of your head and presses a light kiss against your lips. Now this, you won’t stand for. Your hand that doesn’t have the IV needle stuck in it curls around your husband’s neck, and you force more pressure into the kiss. 

You feel his chuckle rumble against your lips. 

“You’re so difficult, you know that?” he mumbles once he pulls away.

“So I’ve been told.”

Despite how he shakes his head in bemusement, there’s a smile on Eddie’s lips as he pulls you against his chest. You happily mold against him, contorting to lay your head against his shoulder. From how you’re both positioned, you have a perfect view of both babies snoozing away in their bassinets. The two of you stay silent, enraptured in watching the newest members of your family. Each of them has a pacifier in their mouth, but your son’s moves up and down faster, his suckling more insistent in his sleep. Your daughter moves more in her sleep, though. Her little arms move in small circles, reminiscent of rowing a baby-sized boat. 

Eventually, you break the silence in a hushed voice.

“I guess we should finalize those names, huh? Unless we want to stick with ‘Baby Boy’ and ‘Baby Girl’ Munson.”

“Those do have a nice ring to them.”

Moving slowly and carefully so as not to disturb him, Eddie reaches out and pulls your little boy’s bassinet closer to the bed. It allows you both to see his face better. 

“Well,” you say with a sigh, “since you won’t let me name him Edward after his dashing father…”

“Hey,” Eddie argues, “I agreed to it as a middle name. And I still think Charles would be funny.”

Narrowing your eyes, you lift your head to stare down your husband.

“Charles Munson? With us, his Munson family?”

Eddie laughs softly, burying his face in your hair.

“I’m just kidding, you know that.” He presses a kiss to your temple. “I’m strictly against naming our children after murderous cult leaders.”

“What about cult leaders that didn’t commit murder?” you question.

“Those I’ll consider.”

You huff a laugh, half fueled by exhaustion, as you nuzzle your face against Eddie’s t-shirt. A large, warm hand rubs up and down your back in a soothing manner.

“Out of the few boy names we narrowed it down to, which do you think fits him the most?” he asks. 

You turn your head to look back at your newborn son. A couple of the names on the list automatically are scratched off the list in your mind; they just aren’t him. Next, your brain scrolls through the unisex names you can recall. 

“He looks like Hayden to me,” you finally say.

Eddie grins and looks down at you. “I was just thinking the same thing. Hayden Edward Munson.”

“H.E.M.”

“Sounds like a good name for a band, those initials,” Eddie comments. “Alright. It’s your sister’s turn, Hayden.”

Eddie gingerly pushes Hayden’s bassinet back to where it was and pulls your daughter’s forward. Once she’s in the position her brother just held, Eddie hums as he rests his head against yours. Most of the names the two of you had on your list were for girls, so this task is going to take a little more time and deduction. 

“Wanna try out a few?” Eddie asks. “See how they feel?”

You nod and pick your head up to address the bundled-up baby. 

“Hi, Chloe.” 

Immediately, your nose wrinkles up and you shake your head, Eddie shaking his as well. It doesn’t suit her. 

“What about Dianna?” Eddie asks. He pauses for a moment, considering. “Nah, don’t think so. Amy?”

As if voicing her own opinion, your baby girl starts to whine. She squirms around more than she did in her sleep and lets the pacifier fall out of her mouth. Her little lungs inhale a few breaths, and Eddie carefully slips out from underneath you to scoop her up before she can start properly crying. 

“Okay, okay, not Amy,” Eddie says as he picks her up. He sways back and forth next to your bed, gently bouncing the little bundle.

“Her least favorite March sister, I guess,” you joke.

“Well, duh,” Eddie says with a scoff. “She stole Laurie from Jo.”

“No, that’s not…” You smile to yourself and give a slight shake of your head. “That’s a topic for another time.”

A nasally “wah” rings out of your daughter, Eddie’s preemptive strike not enough to keep her from crying.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Eddie frowns and tries bouncing her with a little more fervor. “Do you want your mommy? She’s right here. It’s okay.”

Eddie gives you a few moments to situate yourself on the bed, readying to accept the baby from him. You hold your arms out and he delicately transfers her. 

The moment she’s in your arms, her name strikes you. It’s as if the moment you had contact with her, she spoke to you, telling you what you’ve always been meant to call her.

“You’re Scarlett, aren’t you?” You grin down at her.

Immediately, her cries cease. She turns her small head and nuzzles her little button nose against your arm.

Eddie watches, an adoring smile on his face. He cautiously sits down on the edge of the bed.

“Well, I guess that settles that,” he says. “Hello, my little Scarlett. You almost gave Daddy a heart attack today, you know that?”

“No offense,” you say, quirking an eyebrow up at your husband, “but I think she put my body through more than yours today.”

One corner of Eddie’s mouth kicks up in a smile as he nods his head in agreement.

“What about a middle name?” he asks.

“Can I see the list?” you ask. 

The backpack had been kicked halfway under the bed during the course of events this evening, so Eddie bends at the waist to retrieve it. He slips the worn paper out from the front pouch and holds it up for both of you to look over. Your eyes scan down the numerous names, some scratched out or spellings changed over these past nine months.

“How about Aurora?” you suggest.

“Scarlett Aurora Munson. Sounds pretty damn beautiful to me.”

Already as dramatic as his father it seems, Hayden begins to fuss about not being part of the conversation.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Eddie says as he picks Hayden up. He cradles the baby to his chest and lightly boops the tip of his nose. “So does Hayden Edward Munson.”

You watch in adoration as Hayden settles down. Your husband holds him with such tenderness and care. A look back down at your daughter shows she’s drifted off to sleep again. A warmth bubbles up from your stomach, settling in your chest. 

“I can’t believe we’re the parents of twins,” you say in breathless wonder.

Eddie steps closer as he sways back and forth.

“Sometimes I still can’t believe I’m a parent.”

Light as a feather, so as not to disturb her, you run your finger over Scarlett’s tiny knuckles. It doesn’t matter that you’ve held countless babies before, it still astonishes you how small they truly are when they start out. Eliza was once this little. So were Luke and Ryan, even if you didn’t know them then. 

“You guys are going to love it here,” you tell the twins. “You have the best big brothers and big sister.” 

“Who can’t wait to meet you,” Eddie adds. “And there’s a crazy dog named Patch. He’s a good boy.”

“And your room looks just like you’ve walked into the Hundred Acre Woods.”

“Or, if we carried you in there,” Eddie says. “Since you guys can’t walk yet.”

“There’s Pooh Bear and Piglet and Tigger and Rabbit,” you go on. “All the cool ones.”

“And it won’t be long until your sister introduces you to the princesses. I give it less than twenty-four hours, honestly.”

You chuckle, knowing your husband is absolutely correct. A mental image of Eliza bringing out the little chalkboard that’s in her room tickles you. You can picture her setting it up in front of the twins while they rock back and forth in their swings. She would give them a thorough education, that’s for sure.

“You two have so many people who already love you so, so much,” you tell the babies. “Lots of aunts and uncles and cousins to play with. And the coolest grandpa.”

“And you have me and Mommy,” Eddie adds. “And I’ll tell you a secret…we love you guys more than any of those other people do.”

You let out a soft giggle and nod in agreement. 

“We’re so glad you’re here. Welcome to the world.”

“It’s not always great,” Eddie says, “but you’re always going to have your family behind you when things get tough. Cause Munsons stick together.”

Scarlett smacks her lips together and turns her face up in your direction. You carefully lean down and press a kiss on her forehead.

“You made our family complete, guys. And we’re so happy that you did. Our little Hayden and Scarlett.”

[pukefactory]

hey.... I would like a Deceit Trio+ Reader who has N(Murder Drones😈) personality. Looks like a cinnamon roll, would kill you. (Gelp)

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ DECEITFUL DROMEDA ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

⏾⋆ Summary: A Compilation of Headcannons Featuring The Deceit Trio X Reader Who Looks Like A Sweet Person, But Would Actually Kill Others

⏾⋆ Character(s): Black Sapphire Cookie (Cookie Run), Candy Apple Cookie (Cookie Run), Shadow Milk Cookie (Cookie Run)

⏾⋆ Genre: Headcannons, SFW

⏾⋆ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

✶ Shadow Milk Cookie figured it out almost instantly. Oh, how fun! A darling Cookie with honeyed words and a giggle sweet enough to rot teeth—yet, beneath that, a predator in powdered sugar. “Ahh, you’re just like me,” he croons, eyes glinting like shattered glass. He sees through your deception, but does he mind? Oh, no. If anything, he revels in it. How delightful it is to spin a tale where no one suspects the wolf dressed in frosting!

✶ “You’re dangerous. I like that,” Black Sapphire Cookie hums, voice laced with amusement as he idly spins his microphone between his fingers. He doesn’t care for virtue, honesty, or justice—he only cares about a good show. And you? You’re a walking plot twist, the kind that leaves audiences gasping. He’ll whisper rumors about you just to see how the world reacts. The best part? No one will believe a single one. Who would suspect such a sweetheart?

✶ Candy Apple Cookie adores you. “You’re like a candy apple with a razor blade inside! Hee hee! Just like me!” she sings, clinging to your arm. She drags you into her mischief, delighting in the way you smile so kindly before striking without mercy. “Betcha taste even sweeter with a little bit of deception!” she teases, licking her lips. She’s convinced you’re soulmates—twins in trickery.

✶ Shadow Milk watches you like a cat with a trapped bird. Oh, the duality of your nature intrigues him! A lie within a lie, a darling assassin wrapped in bows and pleasantries. “Tell me, little one,” he muses, leaning in with a lazy smirk, “do you ever tire of pretending?” He already knows the answer, but he loves watching you act. After all, a performer can’t stop the show.

✶ The best rumors are the ones no one believes. And you? You’re the juiciest secret Black Sapphire has ever uncovered. He enjoys dropping hints, little breadcrumbs leading nowhere. “Did you hear? The sweetest Cookie in town is hiding something deliciously wicked…” But of course, who would take Black Sapphire Cookie seriously? Lies are his trade, and the best lies are the ones dressed as jokes.

✶ “You don’t have to pretend around me, you know,” Candy Apple chirps, eyes twinkling with something unreadable. She’s peeled back the sugary layers of your act, and she loves what’s underneath. “It’s sooo fun watching you work! You’re like a surprise inside a candy box—except, oopsie! Someone might lose a finger!” She adores playing your shadow, watching you charm others before turning the tables.

✶ Your deception is artful, elegant, nearly as beautiful as Shadow Milk’s own. He finds himself testing you, toying with you, tempting you. How far will you go? How deep do your secrets run? “Oh, what a wonderful, wicked little thing you are,” he coos, voice dripping with amusement. You’re one of his favorite stories—so, so deliciously twisted.

✶ “You’re unpredictable. That makes you dangerous.” Black Sapphire’s usual script is built on knowing the outcome, but you? You throw his rhythm off just enough to make him interested. Black Sapphire Cookie enjoys control, but he’s willing to let you take the stage. Just once. Just to see how you’ll perform. And if you impress him? Oh, he might just rewrite the whole show for you.

✶ “Let’s do something fun,” Candy Apple whispers, dragging you along with gleeful eyes. “Something really sweet. Really sticky.” She giggles, twirling around you as if she doesn’t notice the way your eyes gleam when you smile. The two of you are chaos incarnate, a pretty little disaster wrapped in ribbons and grins. Oh, the world has no idea what’s coming.

✶ Shadow Milk’s hands rest over yours, leading you in a slow, taunting waltz. “I wonder,” he muses, his tone lilting, “when will the mask slip?” He dips you low, watching the way you refuse to falter. “Or… do you even have a real face beneath it?” His laughter is soft, intoxicating, and yet—he knows. The best performers never reveal the truth.

[prinzrupprecht]

Asking them if you’re their type

Featuring: Susano’o, Loki, Qin, and Apollo ( part 1 )

Ight new series! And yes, established relationship.

Part 2.

Warnings? Mostly fluff.

Susano’o

Being the wife of the sword god, you must’ve impressed him somehow. Well, you were yet you were having doubts about why he asked for your hand in marriage of all the women he could’ve wanted.

You were an ordinary fighter. You used the legendary Kusanagi no Tsurugi sword and created new wind-style techniques. While Susano’o used the Totsuka-no-Tsurugi. Was it by luck you had created such a fine blade? Susano’o had spotted you training one day and was acting crazy over your techniques.

He begged you to teach him your kenjutsu techniques that you’ve learnt from humans. In a way, you liked how he was super fun to be around with until he told everyone from the Shinto pantheon that you were his wife. It was supposed to be a secret to keep quiet. Amaterasu? You were certain she wanted to kill you. However, you were a female sword goddess like Susano’o except you weren’t for the seas and storms. You represented warm breezes and spring. They found you as the perfect match for him.

“Oh no, he’s gone somewhere again…” you mumbled looking ahead over the hill but Susano’o was already fighting in a new battle showing off his sword skills.

“You see that! It barely scratched me,” Susano’o was enthusiastic despite all the humans that watched him kill such a beast to save them. He was dressed and disguised differently when he was around them. You haven’t been a saviour to anyone unlike him. Your insecurities were eating at you more. Were you really supposed to be his wife? On a good note, he had no interest in other women or wanted to take on concubines or a second wife.

You two walked towards your small lodge home in the Honshu region. Susano’o always changes back to his normal form and appearance when he’s alone with you or those who were considered his family from the Shinto Temple. It’s very rare he would socialize with humans and it’s against the rules for you and him to actually talk to humans.

He was very affectionate, but mostly it’s him holding you in his lap and talking in your ear about his passions with the sword. You loved listening to him and falling asleep soundlessly on him. You always woke up being suffocated by his big arms holding you in place.

As the two of you returned, you turned to your loving husband and asked him the question that had been bothering you. “Susano’o-san, why did you ask me to be your wife? Am I really your type? Sometimes it feels like our personalities are different,” you felt a sting of embarrassment stir in your lower abdomen waiting for him to answer.

His face turned serious as he stopped what he was doing— sharpening his sword as soon as you two returned. His mouth gaped and you stood frozen a few feet away from him. “I never felt more like myself around someone who understands me. What’s better than not having the sword goddess with the sword god? So of course, you’re my type in every way possible!” One of his hands cupped one side of your cheek.

“What if I said no to your proposal?” You were acting innocent and he gave you a puzzled stare.

“I don’t think I would’ve taken no for an answer,” his response made your heart beat faster as he wrapped his arms around your body.

Loki

You loved him; everything about him. Even accepting his weird side. Was it normal? No. He used to tell you he had a massive crush on Brunhilde before you came along and cured him. Massive? Why would he tell you that? Loki normally wasn’t honest about such things regarding his feelings. You had wondered if he was toying with you once again.

You weren’t a goddess of trickery so you had no idea how you made him move on and treat you as his woman. You have always liked him since childhood. Yet, it turns out he had a thing for the Valkyrie woman and you never knew about it. A part of you was happy he had used you as a stepping stone to move on from Brunhilde— someone who would’ve never liked him back. You wanted to believe you weren’t a rebound, but the doubts were still there. He doesn’t mention her and only pays attention to you mostly.

He even gets jealous of other men who were guards of Asgard that compliment you. You wondered what made him like you. You weren’t anything like Brunhilde at all. She was brave and cold towards others. You were quiet, shy and very observant of your surroundings.

You were fixing up one of the gowns Loki had gotten you. It had a bad tear in it and you wanted to fix it up and wear it for him. You were using a sewing machine before Loki barged into your room. “Where were you? Thor said you didn’t appear at the main hall to greet some of our guests.” Loki saw you holding the gown in your hands. It was all torn up and you couldn’t even look him in the eyes.

“What happened? I’ll get you anoth— actually, I’ll fix it.” Loki started to feel bad that the gown he got you had a tear in it, and you didn’t make an appearance with him to the meeting with some important gods of the pantheon.

“One of the cats got spooked when I entered my room and had accidentally ripped the dress a bit that was hung up while running out of the room. I wanted to fix it and wear it… for you.” You couldn’t even look him in the eyes. Loki was embarrassed realizing he was the cat and fell speechless for a moment. Why did you want to fix such a thing that he found in the commoner’s section of the palace? He didn’t want to tell you that but a deep part of him felt saddened you were going through such lengths for this dress he got you.

“Why not wear something else?” He grabbed your hands but you shook your head. Loki was puzzled for a moment but he knew he wouldn’t be able to change your mind.

He grabbed one of the needles and attached the string to it. He was using magic to sew it up quicker than the machine.

“Done. Are you happy?”

“One more thing before I put it on and be yours for the night.” You nodded. Weren’t you already his? Loki had thought but didn’t say anything.

“Am I really your type? Like wouldn’t everyone there find me… too different to be with you?” You brought the dress up to your face to cover your embarrassment.

“I wouldn’t be going to such extreme lengths to keep you with me if I didn’t like you. I’d prefer you like this and not anything like me. Now, put this on and it’s not for one night. You mean more than that to me,” he lifted your chin up with his index finger.

You nodded gleefully and happy with his answer. You were certain he was telling the truth.

Qin Shi Huang

You were his empress, named and married to him. Despite his reluctance in wanting to marry anyone before he met you— a hard-headed woman who didn’t want any man to sway you. You fought against his army to survive. He was conquering lands and is the emperor and king of the Qin dynasty period of China.

You couldn’t tolerate him in the beginning. He liked ruling and ordering people around. However, you didn’t care who he was. Royal or commoner, everyone was the same to you. Zheng saw you as someone he wanted and desired. It felt impossible for him to obtain despite your reluctance and hard-headed nature.

“I heard you were giving the maids a bit of a hard time earlier,” Zheng walked into your shared room with a curious look on his face despite the blindfold. He was right but also had it wrong. You overheard them talking about how they wanted to be his mistress despite he was yours. It’s not uncommon for imperial rulers to have multiple wives, consorts or mistresses when the man is bored. You had torn down Zheng’s proposals to be his woman many times. He still never gave up but something in you snapped at those maids.

Chasing a man who is already married? How disrespectful. “Sorry for my behaviour, they said some things I didn’t like.” You muttered before turning your head away from him in embarrassment. You were trying to conceal your face from him.

“They upset you? Shall I have them punished—"

“N–No, not at all!” Your voice must’ve squeaked when he suggested punishment. Qin was oblivious to what others felt about him, but his eyes were only glued to you.

Qin walked towards you before forcing your face to look up to him. He took his blindfold off since you two were alone. He was going to speak once again to not let others get to you.

Your insecurities have been eating at you lately and you spoke before he did. “Zheng… am I really your type?” You were flustered but he was not.

“Ha, what? My type? What does that suppose to mean? I just like what I see and if I want something, I’ll do whatever in my power to achieve that. Is that a perfect answer for you, my empress?” He leaned in to call you his empress. Your heart must’ve jumped to your throat. You had no idea what to say to that. He wanted you for a long time and now he has you?

You were satisfied and sighed showing how weak you were in front of him. Only he was able to get you this flustered and feeling vulnerable around him. He loved it and loved making you a mess during private times.

Apollo

Being the wife of Apollo came with a lot of work. Previously you were just a lower-ranked deity of the Greek pantheon that served the Olympus Palace. Apollo didn’t care that much about your existence in the beginning, but it bothered him that you weren’t into him or swayed by his beauty. It dented his ego and turned him into someone who chased you and not the other way around.

Oh, how you miss the old days of being someone who wasn’t very important to anyone. You were quiet, shy and liked to read on your own without being bothered. You were a deity of knowledge and wisdom. You liked history and watching over humanity to learn about their existence. Your whole purpose was to learn and expand your knowledge. Why or how did Apollo come to like you? It was a mystery to you.

You hated the women he used to surround himself with constantly. Not because you were jealous, they were constantly fawning over him and melting in the halls in his presence. It made you uncomfortable how they talked about him a lot when all you cared about was the library and archives. You never cared about getting to know the other gods at the Olympus palace, but maybe because of how different you were made the sun god fall for you.

Apollo had followed you into the archives numerous times considering he was also the God of Philosophy and wanted to get to know the woman obsessed with knowledge. Was he that fascinated with you? He would comment about how your beauty exceeds others and had asked for your hand in marriage. You told him no unless you were the only one which you had hoped he’d leave and decline your request. However, he accepted it. Were you surprised? Yes. He had to give up some part of him just so he could have you to himself. He hasn’t touched any other woman other than you since.

This brought you to wonder why you? Were you his type? What even is his type? He always told others you were his wife. It’s been several years since then. You had lost count. He was busy with many things regarding the Greek pantheon. Whenever Zeus asked him to do something, he was quick to his feet to do it.

You loved him and it took time to realize it. Apollo was deeply in love with everything about you in the beginning. You were sitting alone while reading in the library thinking about your husband. “Why are you still here? It’s late.” You heard Apollo’s voice near the entrance of the room from behind. Oh, it was late? You didn’t say much but closed the book and smiled. Immediately Apollo knew something was wrong and walked over to you to see what you were doing. He picked up one of the books that were lying in front of you on your desk. Romance novels? You never read fiction. You always preferred research.

“I didn’t take you for being into this sort of thing?” he placed the book back down on the desk. You weren’t embarrassed in all honestly. He was someone that was easy to open up to.

“I’m just curious, humans that have written these books over the years must’ve experienced or strongly desire the connection with someone… am I someone you wanted that connection with? Sometimes I feel like… I’m not your type.” Your question made Apollo reach for your hands and hold them.

He hummed, “there’s no such thing as being my type. My type is someone who I deem worthy of my love. What a rhetorical thing to ask, but I can’t deny the connection I felt for you, in the beginning, was something more deep than a simple desire. Did I want you? You already know the answer to that but since you like the comfort of hearing it from me, then yes, I was very interested in you from the start.” His response had you feeling weak for him more.

“Let’s head to bed, or do you want me to keep you awake?” He leaned in your ear as one hand cupped your left cheek.

You weren’t going to get much sleep that night and you were right.

Note: part 2 has no ETA release date. May take a day break unless I get a request that piques my interest.

[beamorgan]

Favourite Reads of the Year

I will not be ranking these, because that would hurt my heart. Buckle up folks, there are a lot of amazing books out there

The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells

I know, I KNOW, I'm late to the party but omg this whole series is just as good as people say!!! I know I said I wouldn't be ranking, but if I was these would be fighting for the top spot. I have already relistened to all the audiobooks. I anticipate rereading them literally every year from now on. I would die for Murderbot, which it would think is a stupid thing for a human to do when there is a SecUnit right there. [adult, scifi]

Emily Wilde's Map of the Otherlands by Heather Fawcett

Sequel to last year's fav Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries, this follows a bullheaded academic trying find the magical door that will let her faerie boyfriend back into his faerie kingdom. Chaos ensues in the Alps. It's fabulous, and the author's approach to using folklore is very similar to my own writing, which I love and also get imposter syndrome about. 10/10 recommend [adult, historical fantasy]

Model Home by Solomon Rivers

Would you like to be repeatedly punched in the gut? Look no further than this story of racism and child abuse in a Texas McMansion, with gorgeous prose and a genderqueer protagonist and the laundry list of content warnings you can expect with the genre. It hurt so good. [adult, contemporary gothic horror]

You Should Be So Lucky by Cat Sebastian

This love affair between a baseball play and a sports reporter was recced to me by the lovely @colubrina and boy was it worth the two-day binge it inspired! Romance can be very hit-or-miss for me, but this knocked it out of the park (please enjoy my pun). I didn't even have to know anything about baseball to love it! [adult, historical (1960s) romance]

The Locked Tomb Series by Tamsyn Muir

Another tumblr fav, FOR A REASON. Gideon is hilarious. Harrow is an absolute mess. Nona is BABY, my beloved. (Camilla and Palamedes have my whole entire heart). Also, the audiobook narrator is fantastic. In the words of the author, the buns are also fried chicken. [adult, sci fantasy]

Master and Commander by Patrick O'Brian

This one is @elodieunderglass's fault. Historical buffoonery on boats. The main characters are ridiculous. The sailing jargon is incomprehensible. It's great. [adult, historical fiction]

All You Can Ever Know by Nicole Chung

This is a gorgeous memoir of an interracial adoptee trying to make contact with her birth family while pregnant with her own child. It grapples thoughtfully with reconnecting to a lost culture, the complexities of family history, and the social and legal barriers adoptees face to learning about themselves. [adult, memoir]

Death in the Spires by KJ Charles

I devour everything Charles writes, so I was EXCITED for this mystery. She made it very clear on social media "It's not a kissing book!!" (it's kinda still a kissing book). She wrote a stonking book, as usual, with an underdog protagonist revisiting the murder that happened during his toxic time at Oxford university. [adult, historical mystery]

Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar

My favourite literary fiction read of the year, this meditation on Iranian diaspora identity is written by a poet and you can tell. I would suck the prose up through a straw if I could. The protagonist is an addict and also quite suicidal. It was fun :) [adult, literary fiction]

She Who Became the Sun by Shelly Parker-Chan

and the sequel, He Who Drowned the World. I don't even know how to sell this, all I want to do is flail incoherently about how amazing it is. IT'S AMAZING. JUST READ IT. (wait I know: this satisfied the part of me that was obsessed with Mulan as a kid) [adult, historical fantasy]

A Little Trickery by Roseanna Pike

The voicey-est book I've ever read. I screenshot like every other page. It follows an orphaned girl trying to survive in Tudor England through various means, such as faking a miracle in the church where her gay best friend is priest. [adult, historical fiction]

At the End of the River Styx by Michelle Kulwiki

My friend wrote a book! It made me cry!!! They were delighted with this!!! Please give this to any teenager in your life who needs to see thoughtful representation of grief and depression and boys in love. [YA, contemporary fantasy]

[kitasgloves]

Hiiiii! Just read your classmate Fyodor, and I'm telling you, it made me fall from heaven then up again for another skydiving experience, loved it. I'm just wondering what would happen if we figured him out and confronted him. If we offered him a deal, "if you make us pass, we can still share a bed and..." you know, would he agree, or is us failing a part of the fun for him???

omg thank you sm anon! i'm ready to deliverrrr <3

— ♬ NSFW

part 1

Now, proposing a deal to FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY could seem like a gamble considering what kind of person he is. He does enjoy seeing you fail after he got what he wanted from you. It does seem that he's merely using you for his selfish desire or gain, and the idea of him discarding you afterward is possible. But a deal where he and you can mutually benefit sounds appealing. To think that the sex he initially thinks is a one-sided benefit is also a benefit for you, captures his interest.

The genius didn't anticipate you to find out sooner he was taking advantage of you and tricking you. He didn't expect you to sternly approach him after class. He was mildly impressed by you expressing your distaste of his trickery, though you weren't completely mad at him. That's when you proposed the deal that if Fyodor helps you pass the class, you'll let him have sex with you. Of course, he was reluctant and cautious at first, he's used to taking deals where only he would benefit. But ultimately, he thinks the deal will be harmless and that he has the upper hand.

Fyodor will tutor you at the same café previously, but this time teach you the correct information. And afterward, you two would fuck either in your dorm or at his house. Since the exams are coming up and students are beginning to prepare, those tutoring sessions become frequent. You two didn't often study at the café.

Sometimes it would be in the university library, you would secretly suck Fyodor's dick in the inconspicuous corner of the library near those boring history books. There are moments when you two would be at the park, and then it would end up with you pressed against one of the trees, away from prying eyes, with your skirt flipped up and your panties down while Fyodor pounded into you. And there's that café that became you and his favorite, you two would be quiet and seemingly deep in study, but it's either you're jacking Fyodor off or he's fingering your pussy from under the table.

However, the most frequent spot would be your dorm room or his house. Your roommates aren't constantly there, so there are chances to sneak Fyodor in for a tutor and a quick fuck. But you genuinely looked forward to studying in Fyodor's house. The genius reeked of old money with how large and empty his home seemed. It had a dark undertone that gave the impression of an old Victorian household. Fyodor would invite you in with nobody home but there are instances where you would briefly encounter a few members of his family.

His mother saw you the most, it's evident that Fyodor got his stunning looks from her. She was a kind and religious woman. She welcomed you in as if she had known you for years, even insisted that you eat dinner after being 'tutored' by Fyodor. Unfortunately, Fyodor would always insist with a tight smile that you weren't hungry, which made you pout. On a rare occasion, you'd see his father. Fyodor got his mysterious and intelligent aura from him. You can't help but feel like that man knew you and his son were doing more than just studying. Something about his knowing gaze as he smoked a cigar made you internally squirm.

Fyodor's room had a minimalist and old look to it. There were multiple bookshelves with books but there was a touch of modernity with a single computer for browsing the internet. Fyodor would tutor you on his study desk, which was often littered with papers either written in Russian or shorthand. The only reason you took the tutoring seriously was the fact that you'll get fucked by Fyodor in the end as payment and secretly a reward. But you're beginning to understand and appreciate everything the genius was teaching you.

Fyodor felt conflicted at the beginning. Something about you casting him a beaming smile and showing him the results on your test paper, which was significantly higher, made his stomach stir. Fyodor did think of maliciously tricking you again and taught you topics that he knew weren't going to appear on the exam. However, you seemed to learn quickly and managed to pass despite being tutored incorrectly.

He was annoyed and was rougher when you two were fucking after those tutoring sessions. He didn't like how you seemed to benefit more than him. He'd express his frustration by delaying your orgasm to the point that you would sob nonstop. Sometimes, Fyodor would punish you for not answering his questions right by pressing a vibrator against your clit while having you tied against the chair, he revels in seeing you squirm and struggle as he slowly increased the vibrator's setting to max. Sometimes, he'd let you cockwarm him. You'd be situated in his lap with his cock deep in you while you wrote your notes. He'd smirk and thrust his hips up making you yelp and mess up your handwriting. You'd always give him that adorable glare before restarting in a new page again only for him to do it again.

You and Fyodor agreed that the duration of this deal will only last until the end of the semester. As disappointed as you seem, you know that you shouldn't build a studying habit of being dicked down by the genius. After all, you just need a little help passing this one class.

It was the final exam the next day, and you busted your ass (or rather got fucked in your ass) studying. With a miraculous surprise, you ended up getting the highest score in the entire class. And what made it seem more unbelievable was that you managed to get a higher score than Fyodor. Naturally, this became the talk of your peers. Who is this ordinary girl who surpassed the mysterious genius Fyodor Dostoevsky? You were showered with praise and attention by your classmates and professor, which made you blush. You did feel genuinely proud to pass that exam with flying colors.

When you turned to Fyodor, eager to rub your test paper all over his face, you froze at the sight of him seething at you in his seat. He was gripping his pen, and his balled fist rested on top of his test paper. You gulped. Why was he mad? Was it because you surpassed him? That's ridiculous! But Fyodor seemed to care about results and being bested by someone as lowly as you.

You tested the waters by approaching him and congratulating him for also passing the test. He coldly ignored you, grabbed his things, and left the classroom. You were dumbfounded. You figured he'd get over it. Plus, the deal you and he had expired today. You won't be needing him for tutoring anymore and he can go fuck with someone else. Though the last thought pained you, it was best to not get hung on about it.

Fyodor behaved like he never knew you. There were a few classes he shared with you, but he acted like you didn't exist. His parents wondered about you and why you stopped visiting, he'll always give some sort of convincing excuse to shut them up. He didn't like how they were seemingly fond of you. He couldn't focus when he was studying in his room. Fyodor got too used to you being seated beside him, or on top of him, warming his cock, or with your hand jerking him off.

He gritted his teeth and dropped his book as he hastily pulled his pants down. Fyodor fisted his cock with the thought of you bouncing on it. He has put you in so many positions. On your knees, on your back, on all fours, against the wall, on top of him. Fuck, his hand goes faster. He has never jerked off so aggressively before. He thought about your smile, the sound of your laugh, the smell of your perfume, and the lingering touch of you tracing his jaw after he had exhausted you.

"Fyodor..."

His name sounded so natural coming from your mouth. You called for him and moaned his name countless times that it repeated in his head like a broken record. Fyodor has an earth-shattering orgasm with his hips bucking up wildly as spurts of cum stain his abdomen and hands. He comes down from his high and realizes how much of a mess he has become. He scowls as he goes to clean himself up.

You did try your hardest to not seem affected by Fyodor's avoidance. You knew he didn't view you as a friend or much less a lover. He probably only saw you as a toy to play with or someone to relieve his stress with.

During one of your shared classes with Fyodor, you two ended up being paired for a project. Your heart fluttered with excitement as much as you wanted to deny it. But you wanted to be professional this time, completely discarding your history with the genius. The deadline for the project was due in two weeks and it needed joint effort.

After class, you took the initiative to approach him so you and he could discuss how you two would do the project. Fyodor surprisingly agrees with you. Initially, you suggested the café as a place to do the planning, but he rudely cut you off and changed the location to his house. Your heart skipped a beat.

Fyodor's parents seemed overjoyed at seeing you again after so long, you admit that you've missed them. You couldn't even mutter a greeting to them when Fyodor grabbed your wrist and led you up to his room. You were roughly shoved inside as he locked the door. Fyodor corners you to his bed and leans down to grab your jaw. You looked up at him with bewildered eyes before he smashed his lips against yours in an open-mouthed kiss.

The kiss was unusual. It was filled with urgency and had a hint of desperation. Fyodor has kissed you a few times when you two used to fuck, but it was always quick and lazy. But this one was fueled with passion. You try to pull away from him for air.

"Fyo—mmph! The pro-project—!"

Fyodor pulls away and frowns down at you. His pale face was unnaturally flushed.

"I don't give a damn about that stupid project"

"But we'll fail—"

"Заткнись!"

[Shut up!]

He yells at you making you freeze. Fyodor seemed breathless as he pressed his face against your neck before slowly pulling you into an awkward embrace.

"I'll...I'll take care of the project just...stay"

"Stay?"

"Stay here, with me"

You blinked at his reply. You reluctantly returned the embrace making his chest constrict. Fyodor didn't want to admit his growing attachment to you. He did feel pathetic but to think you might return the sentiment made the corners of his lips curl up into a smile.

damn this really got self-indulgent whoops

[saphiccarma]

- The Red Means I Love You

Relationships - Mob Boss!WandaNat x Reader

Summary - Natasha and you have some fun before a rather serious trip to the Danvers' estate.

Warnings: Smut. Side character death. lemme know if i missed any

A/N: I lowkey hate this chapter, but i've rewritten it several times and this was the best one so here you go.

Pt.1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

You soon learned that the woman who held a knife to your neck was named Rio. More commonly known as Lady Death. Her reputation was one that you had heard whispers of from Kate and Yelena, sometimes Bucky, but you never bothered to question it. She was one of the most renowned killers in the mob network, hence her name. Rather than using a gun, she used a knife, a custom-made one that had her initials carved onto it, yet no one knew her last name.

She was even more of an enigma than Natasha. Rio worked for Agatha, the latter being the brains with Rio as the brawn. She executed the kills all according to plan. To your understanding, they were the biggest threat to Wanda and Natsha.

Wanda had deduced it to that pretty quickly, letting you know one night you were over. Rio was married to Agatha, who was Wanda's ex. Sort of. You weren't given the whole story, but Agatha used Wanda while she was with Rio- it was a whole complicated mess you didn't bother to remember.

It was then you learned there were four major groups in this world. They all had their specialties and together would be unstoppable but remained divided. There was Natasha and Wanda's, your personal favorite, and the most powerful. Natasha excelled in combat. Then there was Agatha, which Kate playfully called 'the witches'. They were known for their trickery. Stark was known for his money. Danvers for her skill in trade, able to get anything from anywhere.

Every group specialized in something but were also good at everything. They had to be.

The main thing you retained from that conversation was that Rio and Agatha were dangerous, enough so that made Natasha the slightest bit concerned. It was hard to tell with her, Natasha always had a perfect mask slipped over her face.

Whether it was the mask of the of a perfect girlfriend who was composed and careful, but also sweet and caring. Who woke you up with a kiss on the forehead and a warm cup of coffee while she got dressed for work.

 Or if it was the hard, cold persona she wore when directing her people around, voice collected and stern. With a no-nonsense attitude and if you dared to test her, you would regret it.

At home when she was just the slightest bit whiney with her wife, hiding cheeky smiles behind her hand and being a brat, but those moments were few and far between. It didn't matter what mask she wore, there was always one and you had no idea who the real Natasha was.

But, there were little cracks in her mask, parts of her personality that were present in each of her personas. They were hardly noticeable, but you had learned to pick up on them over the months.

The little furrow of her brow when she was concerned and the way her lips twisted down into a scowl. There were little things you had begun to notice over the course of your time with her that helped you find the real her.

And now, you could tell she was pissed, anger radiating off her like a furnace. It was the subtle tilt of her chin as she cupped her chin. Her fingernails, freshly painted a deep red, dug into her cheek as she feigned interest. A man sat in front of her desk, rambling frantically in a thick Italian accent and gesturing wildly with his hands and making absurd facial expressions. He had been brought in by Kate, who claimed that he was waiting outside her apartment when she woke up.

None of the pieces clicked into place as you stood off the side, arms crossed, and listened to him talk. It was hard to keep up, but you picked up little pieces. He had worked for Stark, in the tech department, and was kidnapped some time ago. Not all his sentences were coherent, and you had to string some pieces of jumbled words together. He was held by someone, but he had no idea who.

"Stop," Natasha ordered, holding her hand up, "You are telling me that you work for Stark and were kidnapped?"

"Yes," the man nodded, his Italian accent dripping from his words. He seemed completely oblivious to Natasha's tight tone.

"What happened while you were being held captive?"

He flinched at her words and hands twisted together on top of the desk. Leaning forward, the man tipped his face forward and glanced around as if he were about to share a big secret, "Money," he whispered, "'Stop Stark's money, work day and night." His English wasn't very good.

Natasha hummed, her hand moving to fold in her lap, but not before gesturing vaguely towards the door. You took the hint, moving from your spot, and grabbing the man by the arm. He spluttered, his arms flying wildly as he tried to return to his seat, but you held firm. Dragging him towards the door, you yanked it open, toeing it the rest of the way with your foot. Kate and Yelena stood outside, chatting casually as you tossed him towards them.

Yelena caught him with a smirk, and no words were exchanged as they took him away. You didn't bother asking, Yelena knew you well and knew her sister even better, she would know what to do with him without asking. Kate gave you a playful salute and you returned it with a small before shutting the door again and meandering back over to Natasha's desk.

Her signature "pissed off" look had disappeared, the furrow in her brows were smoothed out and she was smiling faintly. Rounding her desk as Natahsa pushed her chair back slightly, you sat on it, leaning against the hard wood.

"What happened to him?" You mused, your gaze drifting off the side, "Who took him?" Your hands were shoved in your pockets, fidgeting with a stray string that was loose. While you worried over what he wanted, why he came to Natasha instead of Stark, you completely missed the look on Natasha's face. Your mind was swirling with all the possibilities. None of it made sense.

Before you had time to ponder it more, Natasha grabbed you by the collar tugging you down and planting a firm kiss onto lips. After letting out a surprised yelp, you melted into her lips and her hands tugged you down further until you fell to your knees and now Natasha was the one leaning down.

"It's been a long day," she whispered, against your lips.

You caught onto her innuendo pretty quick, your own lips curling into a smirk as you sank further into the floor and ignoring the harsh way the wood dug into your skin. Gripping onto the hem of her pants, you tugged them down and she lifted her hips to help, her boxers coming with. You slipped further under her desk as Natasha spread her legs and slid forward. Tentatively, you placed a soft kiss on her thigh. Her skin was soft, a few scars littering it from over the years and you lingered on those spots for longer, being sure to suck enough to leave a new mark. Trailing your lips up and so close to where you knew she wanted you, before skipping right over it and moving to the other thigh, your teeth grazing her skin.

Before you had a chance to continue, Natasha hand was yanking on your hair, shoving your face into her heat.

"Don't fucking tease," she hissed, pushing you further into her and holding you there. Her thighs bracketed your head, and you poked your tongue out, running it through her folds. You moaned at the taste of her, the vibrations causing her to let out a moan of her own. Your tongue circled her clit, and you latched your lips onto it, lightly sucking. Natasha's hand tightened in your hair, but her thighs loosened their grip around your head.

It allowed you to hear her moans all the more and the soft whines she let out. Grazing your teeth against her clit and sucking even harder and her sounds were music to your ears, only egging you on further as your tongue swirled. Your hand came up and you inserted two fingers, slowly pumping in and out as you played with her clit. Her hands tugged on your hair as you picked up pace, not exactly harsh but not gentle either.

You could feel her thighs start trembling as your fingers curled just right and you pumped in and out, your tongue swirling around her clit and lips wrapped tightly. She let out a sound that was a mix of a groan and whine. Slyly you looked up at her through her lashes, and her eyes were screwed tightly shut, head thrown back and mouth parted. The sight spurred you on even more, and with one more tight suck and curl of your fingers, Natasha was cumming all over you.

Her hips bucked into your face as her orgasm washed over her and you lapped up all her juices greedily. Natasha whined as she came down from her high and you didn't stop. As she pushed your face away, you matched her whine, giving her a pleading look. Laughing softly at your pouty lips, Natasha tapped your cheek and smoothed down your ruffled hair, not that it helped much. She reached down, and for a brief second you hoped she was going to pull you up into her lap, but instead she just tugged her pants up.

Then her foot slid in between your legs, the tip of her boot pressing right up against your core. You whined, pressing down on her shoe desperately, hoping for some help, but she only smirked down you.

"You're not getting any help with this one, pretty girl," She smiled, mocking and cruel, "You wanted to try and tease.” A loud whine escaped your lips before you could stop it, but all Natasha did was laugh softly.  

Your hands found her knees for purchase, using them to keep you steady as you bounced up and down on her shoe. The hard tip of it was right up where you needed it, and yet it wasn't enough. Frantically, you ground down, searching for friction that Natasha wouldn't give and you let out a needy whine. She ignored you, instead leaning further back and crossing her arms, a sinister smirk planted on her lips as she watched you whine and squirm beneath her.

It hardly registered in your head when the door was opened, Wand sauntering in. She raised an unamused eyebrow at the situation, but didn't say anything about it.

"I talked to that man, says there was a gold star on the door of the basement he was being kept in, and only one person brands themselves with gold stars," There was a proud tone to Wanda's words. Natasha’s foot jerked upwards and you let out a startled yelp. "Let's pay Danvers a visit, shall we?"

You had just started to find a good pace, aside from Natasha’s sudden disruption, and the coil in your stomach tightening when Natasha's foot pulled away. Keeping loudly, you pouted up at her and tugged on her hands.

She offered you a smile of faux pity, "Sorry sweet girl, we have stuff to do."

^________________^

You were rather sulky as you trailed behind Wanda and Natasha, Bucky and Yelena standing next to you. All three of you were in standard clothing for tactical outings like these, but Wanda and Natasha were dressed rather elegantly. Your core throbbed with need from being left wanting, but you shoved that away for the sake of focusing, even though it was hard.

You were approaching a large building and as you got closer a gold star was carved onto the door. It was a nice house, with a grey tiled roof and a dark door, but there were scarcely any windows. Bucky signaled for you to hold back, and you obeyed, hand moving to rest on your gun, ready to tear it out at a moment’s notice. Smoothing down the front of her shirt for invisible wrinkles, Natasha kicked open the door, not caring if it was unlocked.

"Danvers!" she called, "We have some problems!"

A woman rounded the corner, dressed in black slacks and a pale colored blouse, star earrings dangling from her ears. Blonde hair was pulled back into a half-ponytail, the rest falling just above her shoulders. She raised a brow. Annoyance was written all over her face, yet her posture said otherwise. Hands tucked into her pockets and shoulders slouched, you would’ve guessed that she was seeing friends.

"Romanoff. Nice to see you too." Danvers smiled coyly, the edges of it sharp and fake. She tipped her head inwards, "Have a seat?"

Cautiously, you followed as she led your group into a room where a couple of others were waiting. Both men. One short and a little chubby, the other tall and lanky, complete opposites. Your hand tightened on your gun.

There were two plush couches, both a pale shade of blue with a white carpet settled beneath them. It hardly matched the aesthetic of the rest of the room, but who were you to judge? Your apartment was crap before you joined Natasha.

"You were expecting us," Wanda's voice cut through the tension, her voice silky smooth. Danvers smirked, nodding and gestured towards the couch. Wanda and Natasha took delicate seats across from Danver as you stood behind them, Bucky and Yelena at your side. "You kidnapped a man."

Shrugging, Danvers waved her hand, "We all have."

Bucky tapped your arm and you dropped your hand from your gun, albeit reluctantly and with a glare. He nodded in approval before fixing his gaze straight across the room, almost robotic.

"You kidnapped one of Stark's men. Why?"

If you watched close enough, you could see surprise flicker across Danvers' face, just barely there and hardly noticeable. It was the slight part of her lips that gave her away. Rather than admitting to her confusion, Danvers shrugged casually.

"I needed his help." She stared at her nails, seemingly unfazed by the two intimidating women across from her.

Natasha's jaw clenched with frustration, "With?"

"You think I would just give that to you?" Danvers laughed, "That's cute. What will I get in return?"

For a brief moment, Natasha pretended to think about it, before she snapped her fingers. Bucky had his gun out before you could blink and shot one of the people at Danvers' side. Blood splashed on the furniture and spilled out on the white carpet as the person dropped dead. The three women were unphased by it as Danvers leaned closer, her chin resting on her hand.

"You think that's going to convince me?" Her gaze drifted over to you, eyes scanning you up and down, "I'll take her."

Your heart froze in your ribcage as you processed her words and any reply you had caught in your throat. Anxiously, you glanced at Natasha. Would she actually give you up?

"No." She said firmly, shaking her head, "She's not for sale." The anxiety that had began coursing through your veins, red hot, cooled at her words and you let out a silent exhale.

The blonde woman hummed, her eyes trailing over you once more before returning to Natasha. You tried to ignore the man that was still bleeding all over the carpet, his blood staining it a deep red, and yet no one seemed to care. It was as if he had never died.

Natasha and Danvers seemed to be having a silent conversation, words unsaid yet understood. Eventually, Danvers sighed and leaned back into her chair.

"I don't have the information you want Romanoff, I'm not the right source. Try Agatha, I've been hearing some rumors about her lately." She cast a fleeting glance to the dead man on the floor, "And next time, don't kill anyone for show please? It'll be a pain to clean up."

Their casualty with death baffled you. A man was dead, just like that. He could have had a family, a wife, kids. Or maybe a sister, or maybe- Who knows. Granted, most people wouldn't be here if they had something worth living for. But you didn't want to be here and was dragged into this whole mob business because of your father and Natsha threatened your mother. You hadn't seen her in forever and she was probably worried sick.

Natasha stood from the couch, flashing Danvers a predatory smile that was all teeth, before leaving. The rest of you followed after her obediently, but even after you left, you couldn't stop your mind from wandering to the dead body and how no one seemed to care.

^______________^

You lay in bed with Natasha and Wanda, both on either side of you. You were spread across their laps, feet in Wanda's as she trailed her nails up and down your ankles, and Natsha carded her hands through your hair. Sighing in content, you were grateful for the moment of peace, even though you knew it was brief.

A show was on the TV but you were hardly paying attention. Two deaths in just a few days. The first  was the first time you had ever killed, but you knew it wouldn't be the last. Just thinking about it made your stomach churn again and bile rise in your throat.

"Do you ever get used to the death?" you blurted, regretting the question the moment it left your mouth.

Wanda's hand tightened on your ankle like a chain, but you found it grounding as Natasha looked down at you, her lips pursed.

She shrugged, "Yeah. Some of them still hurt, but you'll get used to it. You have to in this business." She said the words so casually, unaware that you were having an entire internal debate over it. How could she not care? Killing was taking someone else's life and who was she, or you, to decide whether someone lived or died? It wasn't your place. Still, Natasha killed left and right, seemingly uncaring for the lives she took and unbothered by the consequences they had.

Wanda traced a circle onto your ankle, "Close of your heart," she whispered, "As movie like that sounds, it helps."

You swallowed thicky, but nodded, training your eyes onto the TV. Close your heart.

Taglist: @macaroni676 @gaylorvader @ashadash0904 @sunshine-makes-flowers-grow @wolfangnight @rosekjsses

[bluemoonbun]

Bit of a pivot from Little Bishop (just wanted a change of pace tbh, fic's still on) but what about a Black!Spider!Reader that still has a living family and is just living their best life. Like one of their moms worked at the research facility that the spider was in, and Reader didn't even kill the spider. They just put it back in their enclosure they knocked over. They didn't tell their mom because they knew their one rule was to not go running around in the lab.

Eventually (when Reader is about 16), their moms might find out. But until then, maybe even after, they mostly spend their time in New York (and later Gotham when they move) swinging around as Spiderman.

I got a book back when I was a child about Anansi, the African Trickster god, and I think Reader would name themselves Anansi after that book. (Yes I know about Kwaku Anansi. I'm using the justification of Their Names Are Technically Different)

They're quite the trickster, too, so it fits. They capture villains with extremely sticky traps, trick them into surrendering their weapons, get them to fight each other, etc.

When they eventually move to Gotham, the villains start to prefer them to the Batfamily. Anansi doesn't need to pummel them out of their devices. Granted, being outsmarted by someone who goes on to talk about how they're glad they don't have to hide their bruises during PE again sucks, but ego damage is preferred to physical damage.

Reader hits the Batfam's radar faster than sound. Your good rapport with the villains despite being a vigilante intrigues them. When Barbara brings up some videos of you tricking the villains into disarming themselves, trapping themselves, otherwise neutralizing them without causing more than a few bruises in the span of weeks, they reach out to try and work with you.

Reader, through no attempt of their own, has that mischievous yet relatively sweet side that complements what I call Cute Kid Chic; a trait that makes people older than them want to adopt them. Bruce's adoption problems are put to the test when Reader mentions their mom.

They already fit into the Batfamily so well, bantering with Red Hood, pranking Nightwing, tricking Robin into having fun. You're practically part of the family already!

Meanwhile, Duke is obsessed over a classmate of his that's in Mathletes, chess Club, and does ballet. Damian notices them through a match of Capture the Flag their high school has, their way of using trickery rather than pure speed or brawn like his teammates is... refreshing. Admirable. Fascinating.

You know Cass through ballet, and you're probably closest to her outside of your spider suit. Signal is who they're closest to in suit, and they usually end up working together since they're the two heroes that work during daytime.

[impish-baby]

I love your stories! Fluffy or angsty, they make me feel soft regardless. I think your the first creator thats made me see the appeal of agere.

I especially like the werewolf fam and both arms cradle you series.

In April, I open my bill seems really interesting too! Do you plan on making it a series? If so, do you have behind the scenes or future stuff you feel comfortable sharing?

I'm so happy you enjoy my works!! The both arms cradle you now serries has been one of my favorites to work on so far :>

It will be, yes!! Right now, I have plans for three other parts (there will probably be more, that's just what I have solid ideas for at the moment!)

Hmm... I'm not very sure what to share! Let's see..

Reader could really be any bird you'd like, but I imagine them as a pigeon! (Something about being thrown away and detested once you don't have a purpose, you know? At least that's where readers mind is going with their previous team's treatment of them)

Asphodel/Atlas is a common cuckoo! They are built similarly to pigeons for one thing, but there's two main reason why I chose this species: bias and trickery. Another character is a cuckoo too!

I am excited to post pt.3 when it's finished because I think the reactions will be fun :)

[nocasdatsgay]

The Binding

Pairing: none | Rating: M | Word Count: 1696

Summary: Eris is now High Lord and the House visits him in his sleep to make a deal.

Content Warnings: Suspense, creepy House, mentions of nudity, magic comes with a price, internalized homophobia, angst

This is for @thehouseofvanserra mini collab. It’s the last day! This was a fun little ride and I hope people enjoyed it.

Master List | Read on AO3

Tagging: @hieragalbatorixdottir @ninthcircleofprythian @mybestfriendmademe @thisblogisaboutabook @secret-third-thing @daycourtofficial @pit-and-the-pen

Eris’s body ached. He’d been awake for two days, running on adrenaline and his new found power as High Lord. He felt it around noon, the beginning of energy decline. He barely had enough motivation to eat something and bathe. When he finally slipped under the covers, his whole body melted into the bed. He closed his eyes and felt himself slip under. 

“Hello, Eris.” 

Eris startled, instantly reaching for the knife under his pillow. It wasn’t there. He turned back and in his room was a male. One he knew well. 

“Azriel?” The male didn’t move. 

He slipped out of bed cautiously. It looked like Azriel, with his broad shoulders and large wings. The leathers had the night blue stones that glowed in the dark. His face was the same, dark hair cut short. But something was off- those hazel eyes looked different, the smirk on his face didn’t fit. Eris realized he didn’t awake from the wards being tripped nor did he smell the cedar that accompanied the male. The fae lights were also on. He had turned them off. 

He was dreaming. But the thing in front of him wasn’t a part of the dream. 

“What are you?” Eris finally spoke. 

“You ask the right question.” Azriel grinned. “You should know me, Eris. I watched you come into this world in the room on the second floor. I watched you grow. I watched you murder your father in the throne room. I am The Forest House.” 

Somehow in this dream it made sense. The house was filled with magic. Over the centuries he’d witnessed things he could not explain. Corridors that didn’t exist on the maps. Rooms that would not be there the next day. Items he needed appeared near him. He’d read about the history of the house as a youngling and knew it was enchanted. What did not make sense was why his home appeared to him in the form of a lesser fae. A male lesser fae he despised.

“Then why do you look like that?” Eris scowled. 

“This?” The House gestured to itself. “I appear as what you prefer. Though, I’ve never appeared as a male before.” Eris felt his face heat. The House as Azriel laughed. “You cannot hide who you are from me, Eris Vanserra. I hold no judgement.”

“What do you want then?” Eris wanted to wake up but couldn’t seem to do it. 

Azriel’s smile grew almost sinister. The massive wings expanded behind him like a devil. “If you wish to live inside these walls, we must come to an agreement. You bind yourself to me, to the land.”

Eris physically recoiled. “As if I am a fool to fall for such trickery.”

“It’s not a trick. I came to your father centuries ago in his dreams. As I did with his father, and the father before. Are you familiar with Spring’s rite?” It tilted its head. “Your ancestor exchanged the yearly rite with this. The Binding.”

Eris frowned. He’d heard that word before. He had read about it in the history of The House. There was never a full detail of what it was. Simply that the High Lord and the land were one, bound by ceremony. Eris assumed it was tied to being High Lord. Something that happened immediately with the transition of power. He thought hard and remembered vaguely a statement of exchange but nothing of what that exchange was. 

“And what exactly is this binding?” He pinched the inside of his arm when he crossed them. Nothing happened. 

“You give me something,” Not-Azriel’s eyes raked over Eris slowly, with the heat of a lover. “And I give you my loyalty.” 

“I don’t have patience for your riddles,” he hissed. It was not lost to him that the vague statement was on purpose.“Speak plainly.” 

“I take a part of your soul.” Its grin didn’t fade. “Your father gave me his heart. Despite what he told himself, killing his entire family didn’t sit well with him. I only took some of it from his soul, despite him offering it all.” 

Eris’s stomach churned. The House as Azriel laughed wickedly.

It added, “You chose what to give me.” 

“A part of my soul is still a part of my soul.” 

There was heavy silence between them. Eris did not want to be here. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t sign up to sell his soul to a being that lived in the house.

“I don’t live in the house, I am the house.” Eris felt the color drain from his face, fear running down his spine. The house laughed again. “You think too loud, new High Lord.” 

“So what exactly am I supposed to give you?” He snapped in defense. “My heart as well?” 

“I could take your shame,” it said quickly, those surreal hazel eyes widened. It was too quick and eager for Eris’s liking. “The hunger for this Illyrian that sits deep in your bones. It’s not like you want it anyways.”

“And what am I to gain in return, just your promise that I’ll be bound to the land I rule? I can find another way to bind myself to the land.” 

“Magic always has a price, Eris Vanserra. You can look for another way. But you can’t control what it takes from you. I’m offering you a choice. It’s a fair exchange I think. Prosperity of the land, the magic of the house- my magic, in exchange for your silly infatuation for a,” The house paused. “Lesser fae.” 

It felt strange to watch Azriel talk about himself like that. 

“Exactly how do you plan to take it?” 

“Most prefer carnal measures.” With a snap of its fingers, clothes were gone. 

Eris never saw the shadowsinger naked but his imagination seemed to have a solid idea of what he might look like. Heat pooled in his belly as his eyes raked over the naked male before him. His eyes stopped at the cock hanging between Azriel’s legs. It made his mouth water. 

“You like it?” Az whispered. Not Azriel. This was not Azriel, Eris had to remind himself. “I showed you mine, you show me yours.”

Eris shook his head. Something wasn’t right. “You plan to bed me.” 

“You can bed me if you like.” Eris blinked and in horror realized the cock on the fake Azriel was gone. The female’s sex was in its place. He squinted at Eris. “I’m more accustomed to this. But you don’t like it, do you?” 

“No,” Shame rolled through him and he averted his gaze. “Is there not another way to do this?” 

The house sighed and when Eris glanced back over, Azriel’s clothes were on. Azriel started walking towards him and Eris stepped back until the back of his legs hit the bed. Azriel was close to him. No, not Azriel. The House. Eris could feel his hair stand on end. Up close there was something off about the being before him. His jawline wasn’t right. The eyes were too murky. 

And yet he couldn’t move. 

“You aren’t like the other High Lords,” A scarred hand reached up and grabbed his jaw. Azriel’s voice shot lightning through Eris’s body, like the touch entranced him. “I look forward to serving you, Eris.” 

Eris grew weak in the knees, a moan escaping his lips at the sound of his name. Azriel’s sharp teeth flashed at him while the hands holding his chin grew claws. Eris knew he should be afraid, but instead he was filled with want. He wanted this creature. He wanted whatever it would give him. He wanted Azriel. Eris tried to focus but his gaze was blurry. 

Azriel cooed like a lover, “exchange a kiss with me. Give me your want for this fae and I will give you the true power you seek.” 

A whisper in his mind said no, he shouldn’t. 

“Please, Eris?” That sounded just like Azriel. Eris’s eyes were closed. Or were they open and seeing nothing? “If you won’t bed me, let me kiss you. I’ll make it good for you.” 

He felt a hand leave his chin and reach back into his hair. Another ran down his chest. Eris groaned, pleasure shooting down his spine. His eyes opened. There was Azriel, watching him. 

“Just once,” Eris said breathing heavily. 

He could have sworn he saw red eyes gleaming at him instead of hazel. 

Lips pressed against his own, and he pulled Azriel in close. It felt so good- he wanted more. A brush of something- a hand, down his chest. Scarred hands touching his warm skin. That was all he needed. Everything he wanted. He moaned into the mouth kissing him and focused only on the hard pulsing of pleasure he’d never felt before flooding his senses. He didn’t see Azriel pull back and shift into something else, something his mind couldn’t comprehend. Darkness covered his eyes and he felt pressure in his chest, like a hand reaching in. Something inside him snapped loudly. 

Eris woke, panting and looking around in the dark. He felt the cool wetness on his stomach and sleep pants- disgust and shame rolled through him the second he realized what it was. He stared at the ceiling, trying to remember what happened. He had made a deal. A deal with The House. He pondered further, focusing on his body. He felt no different. If anything he felt more rested than he had in years. It was possible it was just a dream and nothing more. He got out of bed and cleaned himself, shoving the dream away from his mind. 

In the Night Court, another male woke up with a start, his scarred hand flying to his chest. He stared at the ceiling, heart pounding. His shadows were deathly silent. He tried to figure out what was wrong and why he awoke. Though his memory was foggy, it felt like something in his chest was now slack. Like a taunt ribbon now cut. After a moment he shrugged it off, and got out of bed. He might as well get ready for his day since he was up. 

[belit0]

Hallo :D

can you do Indra, madara, shisui, itachi and kakashi with a reader/darling who has the same ability as Uta from One piece?

Some clarifications!

First, in this blog, I write exclusively about Uchihas, ranging from Indra (Ōtsutsuki) to Sasuke (only if someone explicitly requests him to be added). I do not work with any other character as a main focus, so Kakashi is left out.

Secondly, I have never watched One Piece, but my brother is a hardcore fan of that anime, so I turned to him for information, in addition to conducting my own research online. I hope this is at least somewhat close to what you expected, hehe.

(As a fun fact, that character’s ability and aesthetics remind me of Seraphine from League of Legends).

Indra

Indra does not take kindly to illusions, nor does he tolerate power that dares to tamper with control—his control.

The first time he hears (Y/N)’s voice, he feels it settle over him like silk and steel all at once. A spell, subtle yet inescapable, threading through his mind with an artistry he cannot deny. His instincts bristle; his body stills.

For a fraction of a second, he almost falls.

Indra rips himself free with sheer force of will, eyes narrowing. A slow exhale, sharp as the edge of a blade. -You dare?- His voice is quiet, unreadable, but the weight behind it is crushing.

He steps forward, deliberate, his presence eclipsing the space between them.

-You believe yourself a goddess, weaving false worlds with nothing but a song?- His fingers brush against her jaw—soft, deceptive. -How fascinating.-

Yet despite his words, Indra is not immune. He remembers the sensation, the pull of her voice. It lingers in his mind like a curse.

And it is infuriating.

Madara

Madara has seen genjutsu, crafted illusions so intricate they blur the line between reality and dream. But this? This is different. This is not chakra. This is her.

And that makes it infinitely more dangerous.

The first time (Y/N) sings, he feels it immediately—his body resisting, his mind aware, yet something inside him is compelled. It is not forced. It is not invasive. It is natural. As though he was meant to follow.

His Sharingan activates on instinct, attempting to dissect the trickery. His lips press into a thin line as he watches her, expression unreadable.

-Hn.- A slow chuckle follows, dark, amused. -A power like that could overthrow empires, little one.-

Then, after a pause—low, considering—

-Or make gods kneel.

His gaze sharpens. It is not often that Madara feels genuine intrigue. But she? She is dangerous in a way he does not yet fully understand.

And that makes her irresistible.

Shisui

Shisui is used to control. To bending perception, guiding sight, influencing will. But (Y/N)? She doesn’t just alter perception—she owns it.

The first time she sings, he doesn’t even realize what’s happening at first. His body relaxes; his thoughts slow. It is not the forceful pull of a genjutsu, not a twist in his vision. It is pleasant.

Too pleasant.

The moment he catches himself, his eyes widen, a startled breath escaping his lips.

-Whoa—wait, hold on— His laughter is immediate, half in shock, half in admiration.

He stares at her, eyes glinting, utterly fascinated. -You didn’t even try, did you?-

A grin spreads across his face, teasing, but there’s something else beneath it—something keen, almost hungry.

-Damn, (Y/N).- His voice drops slightly, just enough to be dangerous. -What am I supposed to do with a woman who can control me without even lifting a finger?-

And the worst part?

He likes it.

Itachi

Itachi recognizes power in all its forms. And (Y/N)’s? It is both beautiful and terrifying.

The first time he hears her voice, he does not react outwardly. No sharp intake of breath, no visible falter. But internally—

It is disarming.

The Sharingan activates immediately, analyzing, dissecting. But there is nothing to see. No chakra signatures, no threads of illusion. It is simply her.

His throat tightens. Dangerous.

-Your ability is… unique.- His voice is even, but his fingers twitch ever so slightly at his side. He does not meet her eyes immediately. -Do you use it often?-

When she smirks, his stomach knots.

It is not often that Itachi finds himself at a disadvantage. And yet, (Y/N) is proof that power does not always come from violence, from steel or fire. Sometimes, it is soft. Sometimes, it is a song.

And that—that unsettles him more than anything else.

[perotovar]

A Writing Challenge from August 1st - September 21st

"Erin, what is Frith?"

Frith, is an Old Norse term, typically used among friends and kinsmen, that would often be used in a diplomatic way to bring peace.

Or, more plainly, “a mutual agreement to avoid causing each other physical, emotional, or mental harm, and to avoid negatively affecting each other’s honor, worth, and luck.”

This is meant to be a long-lasting agreement among those that take part.

Now, I’ve spent a decent amount of time to know, in this fandom, that that could very well be wishful thinking, but I’m choosing to stay positive here. It’s no secret that there have been things happening lately that are less than stellar, to put it mildly.

But I’m not here to talk about that.

I’m here to have fun and be creative so that’s what we’re going to do!

I’ve had this idea brewing for several months, and it’s a subject matter that’s very near and dear to my heart. In my personal life, I’m a practicing Norse Pagan. For those that are unfamiliar, I like to describe it as worshiping the Old Ones. I follow the teachings of the Norse Gods.

Why am I telling you this? Well, since this is something that’s so close to me, and we’re all here as fans of one Pedro Pascal and his work, I figured why not combine the two? Initially, the goal was to write all these fics myself, but when I discovered just how exhausting and time-consuming that would be, I decided to include all of you!

I failed to do a follower milestone to thank you all and celebrate, so take this as my thank you for sticking around here and showing support to my fics and gifs.

Alright, so how is this going to work?

huge shoutout to @scenaaario and @kedsandtubesocks for all your help on this you lovely humans ♥

Another important aspect of Heathenry (Norse Paganism) is reciprocity. “Gifts given for gifts received.” So, you all wouldn’t just be giving me a bunch of fics to read. I’ve made something for those of you who will participate as well. This is an equal exchange.

I’ve paired up several of the PPCU with Norse Gods and made moodboards for each of them. I have reasons for matching them up the way I have, and I’ll go into more detail as to why later.

So, yes, this is a writing challenge at its core, but it’s also a way for me to show a little peace of myself with you all and for us all to be creative and have fun! Maybe you’ll step out of your comfort zone a little and that’s okay!

There is an expectation that something will be written/received, so if you don’t think you’ll be able to participate, that’s totally okay. There’s no pressure at all, and I appreciate any support or boosting to get to those that would like to!

Okay, enough of all that, which Gods have I chosen to match up with the Boys?

I’m glad you asked! Matching up traits and personalities was really fun, and really challenging. Nothing is a 1:1 match, but that’s okay. Nothing is supposed to be, and that’s where some of the challenge may come in.

For those that are participating in the challenge, you’ll send me an ask declaring which God/Pedro Boy you’d like to write. In return, and my part of the reciprocity, you’ll receive a moodboard to use for your fic, and a little blurb telling you a little more about the God and why I’ve chosen that character to pair them with. I’m hoping some of them will be a little obvious, but I’m aware not everyone is as familiar with the Gods as I am.

There are only 14 slots and therefore only 14 moodboards made, so once someone has been claimed, that’s it. As much as I’d love to have even more people participate, I don’t think I can make that many things lol.

If you’d still like to contribute somehow, I’m open to any questions you may have about the Gods (and maybe how the boys relate), because I’m a big ol’ nerd and love talking about this shit.

So, who’s who?

Maxwell Lord – Odin [Óðinn] (The All-Father and God of wisdom, magic, war, death, but also cunning and trickery.) claimed by @missredherring

Pero Tovar – Thor [Þórr] (God of thunder, lightning, sacred groves and trees, strength, and the protection of humankind.) claimed by @morallyinept

Max Phillips – Loki (The Trickster God of mischief and chaos.) claimed by @qveerthe0ry

Oberyn Martell – Freyja (Goddess of love, sensuality, sex, passion, war, and magic.) claimed by @guiltyasdave

Javier Peña – Freyr (God of fertility, harvests, and peace.) claimed by @almostfoxglove

Ezra – Týr (God of victory, law, and justice.) claimed by @marisferasiop

Marcus Moreno – Frigg (Goddess of domestic life, marriage, and maternal energy.) claimed by @joelalorian

Joel Miller – Hel (Goddess of death and guide to the underworld.) claimed by @beefrobeefcal

Dieter Bravo – Bragi (God of poetry, oral traditions, and the Skaldic Poet of the Aesir.) claimed by @schnarfer

Javi Gutierrez – Baldr (God of light and purity.) claimed by @morallyinept

Dave York – Vidar [Víðarr] (The Silent God of vengeance.) claimed by @kedsandtubesocks

Din Djarin – Heimdall [Heimdallr] (Gatekeeper of Asgard, the gods’ stronghold within Valhalla. God of guardianship, vigilance, and protection.) claimed by @djarinmuse

Frankie Morales – Skadi [Skaði] (Goddess of winter, skiing, bow-hunting, and mountains.) claimed by @agentmarcuspike

Jack “Agent Whiskey” Daniels – Ægir (Brewmaster of the sea.) claimed by @lotusbxtch

extras:

Marcus Pike – Idun [Iðunn] (Goddess of eternal youth and sacred apples.) claimed by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Silva – Ymir (First being in existence and the reason for the creation of Earth.) claimed by @yopossum

Santiago Garcia – Fenrir (Most famous of all the wolves in Norse Mythology and the bringer of Ragnarok.) claimed by @for-a-longlongtime

There are no rules for your fic itself. You can write whatever and however much you want. All I ask is that some aspects of the Gods stay intact, otherwise this would just be any old writing challenge.

I wanna see you guys get creative with what the Gods offer. How are they speaking to you? What energy/vibes are you getting off of them? Run with it.

Now, I’m posting this the day before Lammas, the Pagan holiday that often takes place in the Summer, August 1st. I think it would round out the summer nicely if everything gets published around Mabon, September 21st, the holiday that celebrates the Fall equinox.

That gives everyone almost two months to write their stories. I’m hoping that’s a decent time? If it’s not, I’m not picky and typically run on Pagan Standard Time, so if it’ll take you a little longer, just let me know and it’ll probably be fine.

Thank you for sticking with my ramble, and I wish you all gọ̄der hēle (good luck)!

And remember, have fun!

[cuppajj]

I think PV might get corrupted, but ultimately saved in the end. I do think however, his corrupted version might become a legendary costume as in the teasers we also see uncorrupted Shadow Milk.

I highly doubt devsis would just swap them halfway through the story, mainly bc I feel like it would feel so muddled. But that's my opinion.

I could see that happening… I don’t think he’s being evil beyond these two chapters. (The alt is that I can see him being evil through the ES and SS chapters and then saved at the end/the DE saga, but thats a stretch I don’t think Devsis would pull off)

With his “evil” skin and shmilk’s uncorrupted skin dropping, at the very least I could see it being appearances one or both of them have in a vision? It’s not real but it’s there, part of shmilk’s trickery. Or something along the lines of that

Seeing an evil vanilla would be fun, and while I still kinda doubt it, I hope that we get something that breaks the formula!

[judgeanon]

So How About That Batgirl #3

I didn't transplant my review of #2 here because there wasn't that much more to say, especially in regards to Lady Shiva (which is always the most important part of any comic with her in it for me) but #3, hooo boy, there's a lot to talk about for this one.

It introduces, or maybe just expands, a concept that kinda had me feeling a bit nervous but eventually won me over, and still has room for some fun narrative trickery. So I'm gonna go ahead and post my full review of the issue down here:

Picking off where #2 left off, #3 starts with Shiva and Cass on a train heading out of Gotham to meet some allies in their fight against the unburied. And Cass is noooot happy about it.

These opening pages follow the same character dynamic we've seen so far, with Cass openly rejecting her mother's remarks while inwardly rejecting her mother in general -- her inner monologue constantly reassuring herself that Shiva is a lonely manipulative monster while Cass is a good person, clearly to try to chase away the guilt of leaving everyone behind. The desperation in Cass' inner voice to paint Shiva as an unredeemable monster is very palpable and very good in the face of everything that's happened so far.

But the next pages made me a little concerned, with Shiva berating Cass while goading her about her relation with the batfamily. And while we've seen Shiva take jabs at that before, notably in Hill's Outsiders, back then it felt more pointed (and a little meta, what with the whole "He won't even let you be Batgirl" thing), while here Shiva's comments on languages, while true in a way, felt more openly cruel. Bordering on villainous.

Had the issue stayed this way, I would've been very worried about this whole arc turning into yet another milquetoast "Evil bio mom, good found family" yarn. But then the track switches.

The lion's share of the issue is dedicated to introducing the survivors of the Order of Shiva, who have dedicated thier lives not to just worship the deadliest hands on Earth, but to study, learn & better themselves through her example. Which is an idea that could've gone very wrong. Personally? I think this is kinnnnnda neat. Mostly.

The thing is, I've never been a fan of Shiva having any kind of cult or organization built around her. I think it's the kind of stuff that can weigh her down and, at worst, just be used to make her more of a pure villain, like in Dixon's RICHAR DRAGON run. But in this issue, the idea slowly won me over with how Brombal uses it to explore two overlooked aspects of Shiva:

The first is that Shiva, at her best, tends to inspire others. Just by entering a person's life, Shiva, tends to change their perceptions of reality, of what's possible. When Shiva entered Vic's life, she indirectly got him to question a lot of things about how he viewed reality. Same with Dinah and, yes, Cass herself. And this order seems to be entirely built on that idea of Shiva as someone who makes people rethink everything (albeit with way more altruism than Shiva herself).

The other thing this whole scene explores is Shiva's dualities and seeming contradictions, her nature as both destroyer and restorer. Which is something I'm always happy to see, especially nowadays. But this is also where my one big problem with this issue lies: it pays a lot of lip service to Shiva as a healer without actually showing it.

A mention is made of Cass rejecting Shiva's help, but an actual moment of Shiva using her healing skills, to me, would've really helped support High Priest's Jayesh gushing praise of that dual nature.

Just a couple of panels of her doing some funky pressure point head massage, it's all I'm asking.

Beyond that, I do have one nitpick that's just about the one thing that keeps me from fully embracing this idea, and that's Shiva's level of involvement with the order. Jayesh drops a hint of how he met Shiva, and she seems to care at least a little for him and for the Order, but there's not a lot said about how much she helped them build and maintain it.

If they're all people who ran into her, had their minds opened and built an order around their idea of her, that's one thing. If she helped them build it then that's another. Her small moments of caring do seem to indicate she's also warmed up to them, which would suggest some relatively high involvement, which I don't really like. I'd much prefer the order being something that Shiva is aware of but keeps at arm's length, a bunch of well-intentioned groupies that, like the issue says, follow her example rather than her orders. The bottom line is that I don't like anything that Shiva seems to be too attached to, but even if she was, I'm still mostly OK with this idea.

Anyway, the final leg of the issue is dedicated to a very entertaining chase and fight across the rest of the train that's a delight to see. And while my copy's all digital, I imagine it's way better in paper. Miyazawa and Spicer clearly have a lot of fun with these pages and it continues the run's interesting dynamic of Cass and Shiva never being fully in sync during a fight, always fighting each other as much as whoever's all around them.

But apart from the action, the thing that rang a lot of bells for me was Cass' narration as it insists again that Shiva is nothing but a monster and that Cass is nothing like her, eventually flowing towards a very heroic list of all her family members and their core traits that's very nice and heartwarming... and desperate.

Because the narration in this scene all reads to me like Cass arguing with herself. It reads desperately like her trying to chase away the dual thoughts that her mother may not be a complete monster AND that she herself, Cass, really is a lot like her mother.

Hell, the scene is literally Cass running away from Shiva, punching through what she sees as undisputable proof of her mother's lies while checklisting the family she does want and love, physically and mentally fighting against even the possibility of Shiva being worthy of more than her disgust. It's not Cass rejecting Shiva for being evil, it's her trying to reject the evidence that she may have something resembling good in her.

So the whole thing takes a very heroic cliche, Cass naming all these loved one to give her strength, and turns into a flailing flurry of mental gymnastics from Cass to allow herself to keep rejecting Shiva, to maintain this inner image of her as a monster while refusing any connection with her. And it's all pretty compelling stuff.

The issue then ends with one final surprise as Cass runs into the rest of Shiva's allies: a resurrected Nyssa Al-Ghul, Angel Breaker and a brand new character we'll apparently learn more about next month. So yeah, this was an interesting issue. The pacing of the arc is still a bit slow, but with all the players (hopefully) at the table and three issues to go, I hope the rest of the arc will pick up steam and keep chugging along smoothly.

I wasn't expecting the Order of Shiva to get much more play after #1. I certainly wasn't expecting them to get expanded like this. And I definitely didn't expect it to win me over this much. Minor quibbles aside, I gotta give props to Brombal for the obvious thought he's put when laying down these tracks for Shiva, and I'm definitely in for the rest of the ride.

(then again, maybe I'm just being blinded by the intense relatability of my man Jayesh over here. I feel you, brother. Hope you survive this arc)

[madockisser]

I would love to hear your thoughts/analysis on why cardan didn’t turn out truly cruel like every other folk or like his siblings? Obviously with his upbringing and how he was treated by everyone so wrongfully you would think he would turn out 10x worse than he is. He puts up this false act of being cruel to impress and get the attention from those he seeks around him. But truly he isn’t like that…. At all from what we’ve read in the books. Even after all the betrayal … even after all the schemes and tricks people have done to him.

Naturally the fae are crueler than humans so I wonder why you think he didn’t turn out that bad at all. He releases the servants. He has the capability to actually feel remorse and empathy unlike his companions. I’ve just found his entire character development so intriguing.

Why is cardan different from the other fae / how his upbringing affects his behaviors

hi! Thannk you for the ask! This one’s kinda long but first I’ll start w fae natures:

I wouldn’t say the fae are crueler than humans, they seem to be less empathetic. humans also have the capacity to be cruel and awful, and since fae cannot lie, i imagine they are pretty closed off from the get go. They naturally want to be sneaky to protect themselves. not all of them are cruel, but they certainly can have the capacity to be. Just like humans.

also they cannot help their natures. A lot of fae prize fun and trickery above all, and so they find it by being awful. it’s just in their nature. They see the world differently, they are immortal, so simple things like protecting feelings of others or mortal lives are unimportant to them.

Now i can only speculate using what we know, but here’s what i think.

First of all, cardans upbringing.

most fae children are raised similarly to him, cast out to fend for itself. Cardan was the same except he grew up a prince.

he was told that he’s an important little prince, to be doted on momentarily then forgotten about.

he never had a midwife, his father never cared for him, his siblings treated him like an animal, the cat that fed him breastmilk fled from him.

cardan always wanted to be loved, TRULY loved. he detested fake admiration. and he never not one received real, true, healthy love.

Love from balekin was abuse, love from his mother was taking advantage of his title, love from nicasia was using him for power. no one loved cardan.

despite the love he gave, he never received.

He was not cruel for nothing. He did it because despite being a prince he felt powerless. He was the youngest prince, destined to cause ruin and unlikely to ever sit atop the throne.

So that’s what he did, he felt obligated to prove to everyone that the prophecy over his head would be true, he did it mostly for attention from his father, because it was all he knew from his mother / to be petty and prove to his father that he was even worse than he imagined- and mostly because it kept him with the smallest amount of power he had.

but that’s not all. he lashed out a lot because he was afraid of being seen as weak. like i mentioned above, his siblings all saw him at his weakest, even if he was a child. and he hated that. he didn’t want them to think lesser of him, i think part of him wanted them to admire him, if not fear him.

being awful and scary gave him power. he could cast anyone from court, could hurt those around him with no consequence. because that’s what he felt he needed to do to be powerful. To be like balekin.

Except he didn’t want to be completely like balekin, just powerful like balekin, he wanted to share balekins strong front. Cardan never wanted to be a murderer like dain.

That’s important. Cardan cherishes life. Meanwhile, nicasia, valerian, balekin, dain, madoc, SO MANY do not.

like i said in the beginning, the fae are unlikely to care for mortal lives, to them, mortal lives are too fleeting to care about.

but cardan frees balekins humans slaves for some reasons: first, to prevent balekin from using them to beat him

Second, because Jude’s existence has led him to believe that humans are perhaps more valuable than he was previously told

And third, because he’s witnessed human death. When dain shot Val morens human lover, he watched him die, feeling responsible. i don’t think he EVER wanted to feel that way again. which is probably why he was so stern w not wanting jude to get hurt, asides from his love/lust for her, he doesn’t want to feel guilty for killing her or getting her killed.

it’s worth mentioning that scene in his novella when he takes the human that beat him back to the mortal world. he pities her, but she also pities him, and also tries to apologize. i think this was the only time anyone that ever hurt him, intentionally or no, actually apologized and meant it. Because it showed they actually cared.

nicasia apologized, which should hold more meaning bc she cannot lie. but then she defended herself by saying that he should’ve known. by belittling him. Like his mother. Like balekin. Bc even if they were ever sorry, they still think less of him. Nicasia saw how weak he was for her. And he hated it. But not the same hate that he shared w jude.

Also, dain. Dain played a HUGE role on why cardan is the way he is. Though dains actions were fleeting, they were lasting to cardan.

Because dain framed cardan as an evil little murderer who killed humans, cardan strove to

1. prove him right by being awful, to be petty mostly,

2. to retain his dignity of being thrown out and treated like an animal by embracing the “rebellious” side of him,

but also, he never truly wanted to be a killer.

he refused it outright in book one. because dain framed him for killing a human, causing Val moren to go mad, cardan didn’t want to kill another human, or anyone for that matter.

from a young age cardan learned this: that people are cruel for personal gain, and that death brings around much misery.

Though cardan did not actually kill Val morens human lover, his death caused his mother to be cast away. And as much as cardan didn’t want to: he still cared for his mother. and since the murder, he was cast from the palace, to live in a stable only pretending that someone were looking for him. That someone cared.

Now; balekin. Obviously balekin played a large role in why cardan is who he is. balekin wanted a perfect little prince for his fathers favor. and so that’s what he mostly got. but balekin beat cardan when things didn’t go his way.

cardan wasn’t perfect by any means, he was poor with a sword because he didn’t want to learn. Because he knew he would never want to outright kill anyone, maybe to irritate balekin. But maybe even partly because he didn’t want to defend himself should someone try to hurt him.

while he does state that “being alive is better” I’m not sure he ALWAYS held those reservations. he didn’t always have much to live for, which is so sad.

but, he still cared for balekin despite his abuse and his sisters despite their misgivings about him.

I believe he felt his sisters were innocent in all of this, they simply were being obedient daughters by ignoring cardan. and he was grateful to balekin for taking him, he also owed him for it.

he really didn’t want to be heartless like dain, to abuse like balekin. to be neglectful like his father. but he also didn’t want to be killed off like his sisters so casually. to be killed off like liriope and the baby in her womb. so he stuck to being scary rather than weak.

Cardan learned from a very young age what death brings. it brings suffering and guilt. feelings he doesn’t want to feel bc he hates feeling weak. he’d rather lounge around w a human book in hand and a cup of wine in the other than feel belittled.

add on: cardan is very forgiving. i believe that may because he feels guilty. obviously he didn’t kill Val morens human lover, but i can see him blaming himself for being a hopeful fool about dain (poor baby). and i believe his internal monologue when dain shot the human was him scolding himself for not seeing the trick sooner.

no one forgave him for that. Val moren held it against him years later when he sat at eldreds dinner table. No one forgives cardan for the cruelty he inflicts, possibly because they don’t care.

isn’t that sad? they don’t care enough to pursue a genuine relationship w the youngest prince; everyone seems to treat him like a rabid animal, ready to lash out and attack at any given moment.

that could be why he’s so forgiving. Because he’s desperate for any sort of relationship, even if they’re negative, even if they’re abusive. he holds out hope for those that don’t care about him because despite this, he cares for them- to some extent.

i feel that he acted this way moreso in his youth rather than present cardan, who probably only truly cares for jude and only jude. jude was the only one to really hold out hope for him after all, despite his behavior.

cardan can be kind because no one was to him. He can be empathetic because he knows suffering. he and suffering went hand in hand all throughout his life, his impressionable youth. he’s eventually kind to jude despite his jealousy toward the love she received from her family, because he’s grown out of longing for love from his abusers. he grew into loving jude and jude grew into loving him.

add on: cardan not only longs for a true love (he’s such a romantic) but eventually learns to long for a more simpler life- such as getting away from his family and living a quiet life in a low court. w money and wine of course.

anyway cardans life is so sad but i probably missed some stuff so please feel free to add on! 🫶🫶 moral of the story however, cardan cares, even while others blatantly do not. he wants love, while others want power. makes his and Jude’s dynamic in twk all the more devastating. makes thinking about his letters all the more saddening.

anyway luv u bye

[yandereunsolved]

How do you think various mgs characters (whichever ones you want) would deal with a hiding darling? wether it be in a box or emth else

Assuming darling is probably attempting to escape, ik my ass is trying at every opportunity. As most would try. After all mgs's whole thing is sneaking about

-📦 anon

Me when Box Anon appears: 😍 .ᐟ

You always have the best asks.

Evil polycule (Big Boss, Kazuhira, and Ocelot), Liquid Snake (MGS1), & Raiden (MGS2 and MGRR)

“ ‎Big Boss ” ― He loves it if you hide. Now, he sees it as an act of not only disobedience but also betrayal; however, he still loves it. It's a chance to pounce on you. To test you. To get an adrenaline rush and have an excuse to be nearer to you.

You hiding from him...? Big Boss himself. The master of stealth. disguise. and more. It's laughable. But if you give him a good challenge then he won't be as angry.

Hiding in boxes is incredibly obvious to him. Points to you for going to the classics.

Likes pining you down when he finds you. He likes making you flustered. He's obsessed with seeing you reacting to him. Will either tease or threaten you, depending on his mood.

tease

"Mhm, so the Snake caught its prey. Should I swallow you whole or savor the taste? How poisonous do you think my fangs are?"

threaten

"Careful, doll. One could mistake this as deserting. Soldiers who desert their posts deserve to be punished. You'd rather not survive that."

“ Ocelot ” ― Let's be honest, you were probably escaping his 'interrogation'. He doesn't like dragging these things out. But he wants to test you. He likes seeing your instincts kick in. Just how good are they?

He'll be speaking to you in Russian. And if you do understand Russian, then he'll switch to a language you don't understand. He drops little hints here and there. They are important pieces of information that could help you escape. If only you understood. You could be one step closer to freedom.

Alas, he isn't that kind.

Watch out for the needle(s) he's carrying. He'll put you down and out as soon as he finds you. You've already fought back enough. Now it's time for a nap. Sleep well. You'll be regretting your decision when you wake up.

“ Kazuhira ” ― Pre-Peace Walker Kaz is sillier about it. He's worried but he laughs it off. It's creepy. He has this strained smile. His hand struggles to run smoothly through his hair. He can't stop his deranged chuckles. He thinks you hiding in a box is just another part of your trickery. It's an invitation. You're hiding cheekily. You want to have fun. He's more than willing to participate.

Post-Peace Walker Kaz is more somber. He's like a grumpy old man. He walks down the corridors briskly and shouts at any soldier that tries to question him. It's safe to say that he isn't the least bit amused. And he sounds like a strict parent.

"Stop this foolishness. You are old enough to use your words. You know being found is inevitable."

He may go soft for a moment when he finds you hiding, especially if it's in a box. He'll huff and shake his head.

"Old habits die hard."

If you don't attack him then he may sit with you in silence. He'll use his arm to pull you closer, urging you to take comfort in his presence.

"Why?"

Oh, that is a dangerous question. Tread lightly, or you may end up in the hands of your sadistic Russian lover.

―

“ Liquid Snake ” ― He treats it like it's a game. He has this eerie hum he does while searching for darling. He slowly becomes more unhinged the longer darling hides from him. His patience runs thinner, which means your punishment will be worse.

"Are you done playing this game? Come on out, darling. You know I'll find you. It's just a matter of time."

He revels in the power he holds over darling. When he finds them he'll bend down and smile, patting their head as if they were a child.

"Found you," he murmurs, "playtime's over."

―

“ Raiden (MGS2) ” ― Gets spooked. He thinks someone took you. He tries not to panic. Still, the nasty feeling rises within him. He feels like he needs to vomit. It's like someone took his heart and plunged it into his bowels.

Treats darling almost like a cat. He's softly calling out to you. His movements are slow and purposeful. They are swift. He checks under every box. Twice.

There's a chance you may encounter him after a switch. Jack doesn't know what's going on. All he knows is that you aren't here anymore. He may start crying.

There's a 50/50 that it's a manipulation tactic. He may genuinely be scared.

After he finds you, or you come out, he cuddles you for awhile. He holds onto like a lifeline. Even if you tried to attack him he'd hold you. He's convinced you're just having an episode. This isn't how you really feel. It's just your silly mind making a silly little decision.

Part of him can't fathom why you'd want to escape him. Is he not good enough for you?

“ Raiden (MGRR) ” ― It depends on what mood you have caught him in. He may try to coax you out. He more than likely already knows where you are. He's just giving you a chance before Ripper takes over. Raiden does his best to make sure that does not happen. A part of him understands what you are going through. Another understands that it's selfish to keep you.

But doesn't he deserve to have one person in his life that loves him?

The Ripper may force his way out. And he isn't one to waste time. It doesn't matter where you're hiding. You'll be yanked up and carried back to where ever you were being held.

"Wrong choice... love. You're lucky I like you more than my blades. Try again―and that may change."

(Jack will apologize profusely later, patching up whatever injuries you sustained from Ripper's rough treatment.)