#you would insult something that created something so beautiful?

[lunar-wandering]

I genuinely think so many people have forgotten the fact of "there are no toxic fandoms, only toxic people".

When fandoms get big, of course the amount of people u want nothing to do with is also gonna get bigger.

Youre not meant to combat them. Youre not meant to talk about them and expose others to them.

Youre meant to block them at the first signs and continue to enjoy your experience interacting with other people.

Kill the weeds, don't let the seeds spread, reap your wheat and enjoy your bread.

[nadvs]

home before dark (part two)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

· · ── ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ── · ·

After Rafe leaves, you make sure every door and window in your home is shut and locked.

You don’t know if Ty would do something as crazy as break in. But there was a time you’d laugh in disbelief at the thought of him hurling insults at you and that was all he did by the end of your relationship, so you’re not taking any chances.

Beneath the fear he impales you with lies a sense of betrayal. He was so good at pretending to be kind. Only a monster could put on such a convincing act just to break your heart.

When you tell yourself he’ll move on soon, you hate that it feels like false hope.

You text Sarah to let her know you made it home and that you’ll see her at tonight’s beach party. Even though Ty will probably be there, you don’t want him having any more power over you than he already has.

You’re determined to have fun. To have a life. Especially because you have someone protecting you now.

Rafe is unnerved as he stands on the beach under the starry sky that night, surrounded by the guys he parties with all the time.

The crowds and the conversations are all the same, but everything is different now. Because he’s looking out for you and it gives him something he hasn’t had in a long time. Purpose.

It’s disorienting to Rafe, going from avoiding you to keeping his eyes on you so persistently. From afar, he watches you laughing with your friends and now that he has a reason to, he takes you in completely.

He’d be an idiot not to admit that you’re beautiful. But he always knew that, no matter how hard he pretended not to notice you.

You slowly drift further away into the crowd. Rafe continues checking on you, keeping you in his sights.

Later on in the night, you’re in deep conversation with Sarah. Being three years her senior, you were much closer to Rafe when you were kids, but now you’d consider her a good friend.

When her eyes widen at something behind you, your body goes cold, expecting the worst. You turn to see your ex approaching you, a nearly empty beer bottle in his hand.

“Where’s Rafe?” you ask Sarah, hushed.

“Rafe?” she echoes in confusion. While she knows all about your ex, you haven’t had a chance to tell her that her brother is helping you put on a farce. You’re sure she’ll be in disbelief when you catch her up.

“Hey,” Ty says gently, his hand at the small of your back. The sensation you once welcomed makes you sick. “Can we talk? Please? I’m sorry about last night.”

It’s no surprise. You’re used to him yo-yoing between belittling you and putting on his nice guy act.

“No,” you respond, twisting so that his hand slips off of you. “How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone?”

The booze in his system slows him down, but Rafe treads through the sand to you as fast as he can the second he sees Ty talking to you.

Suddenly, Rafe’s broad back is in front of you, a wall separating you from the man who’s tormenting you. When Rafe’s there, you realize Ty doesn’t scare you at all.

“Fuck off,” Rafe mutters.

Ty drunkenly staggers back, creating several feet of distance between you. His face contorts with annoyance.

“You know you’re just a bullshit rebound, right?” Ty calls. You look back at Sarah, who’s watching the exchange in confusion.

“I can’t hear you when you’re running away from me, pussy,” Rafe taunts.

Anger churns inside you at Ty’s words, prompting you to grab Rafe’s hand. You know Rafe couldn’t care less - after all, this relationship is all an act - but Ty calling him a rebound, insinuating that he’s meaningless to you, bothers you.

You pull him away, cupping his fingers with both hands.

Rafe was an inch away from chasing Ty and swinging at him. If it wasn’t for the alcohol blurring his senses, his fist would be aching right now from driving it into Ty’s jaw.

His entire body is stiff with rage, but for once in his life, the tension is dissolving instead of building up onto itself. It’s from the way your hands feel on him.

“What an asshole,” you say. Even though you should probably let go of him, you can’t.

Your touch is so warm. Rafe wants to ask why you reserve kindness for him after he shoved you out of his life. He wishes he could wipe it from his memory, the look on your face after he denied your every effort to talk to him. You grew up, but the disappointment in your stare never changed.

But he doesn’t know how to say all this. He doesn’t talk like that. With anybody. He couldn’t even talk to the therapist his father took him to see after it happened.

Maybe if he had asked him why he couldn’t so much as look at her, Rafe would have told his dad that the therapist’s blonde hair and gentle tone reminded him too much of his mother.

But after she told Ward that Rafe “wasn’t responding to therapy”, all he did was angrily yank his son out of the office, his grasp tight and painful.

Once they made it home, Rafe tearfully rushed to his parents’ bed to try to smell his mother on her pillow even though the sheets had been washed.

He spent most of his childhood pretending he was bigger than he was, eager to grow up. But he remembers nuzzling his head into her pillow that day, hyperventilating and thinking he was too small to know his heart could hurt this bad.

It felt like no time had passed when Rose came into the picture. Rafe knew his parents weren’t in a happy marriage, but he didn’t expect Ward to start seeing another woman so soon.

Rafe angrily confronted his dad, as if a ninety-pound kid could be any sort of threat. It was the first time Ward slapped him. He’s certain that it wasn’t the first time his father wanted to hit him, but his mother had always been his defence. And then in an instant, Rafe didn’t have her anymore.

You reach the shore together, far away enough from the crowd. You pull your hands away from Rafe and cross your arms, gazing at him under the moonlight.

“I wish he’d just stop already,” you say, shaken from Ty’s sudden approach. “Thank you. Again.”

“It’s fine,” Rafe says flatly. But he doesn’t walk away from you. He simply looks out at the dark sea with his hands in his pockets.

The waves crash beside you, the water climbing and retreating over the sand, threatening to wet your shoes.

The last time you stood together looking out at the water like this, you were kids skipping stones over the ocean’s swells. And because he’s not leaving, you take the opportunity to see if he’ll let you in, even just a little bit.

You crouch to pick up a small, smooth stone and try to skip it over the water. It immediately falls straight below the surface. You breathe a short laugh.

“That sucked,” Rafe says. His tone is lighter than what you’re used to.

“It’s been a while,” you retort. “And that rock wasn’t very flat.”

“Sure.” Despite himself, he cracks a smirk.

You can’t remember the last time you saw happiness on his face. He has his mother’s smile.

“You were better at finding the flat ones,” you say.

“I was better at everything.”

“And still so humble about it.” You haven’t joked around with him like this in so long that it feels new. “Prove it, then.”

“What?”

“That you can do better than me,” you say. “Get two skips, at least.”

Rafe keeps his hands in his pockets, looking down at the stones scattered atop the sand. The wind whips around you, threatening rain.

“We’re not kids anymore,” he rasps. If you want to take a walk down memory lane, you can do it alone.

He steps back, inviting the distance that lived between you for years to return. Yet another dismissal.

You step back, too. Your arms are not so much crossed anymore; you’re practically hugging yourself now. You need the comfort and he certainly isn’t going to give it to you.

“Did I do something wrong… before?” you impulsively say. Now that you have his attention, you find a shred of courage to ask him what’s been turning in your mind for years.

Deep down, you’ve always feared it wasn’t just the shock of what happened that made Rafe shut you out. Maybe you did or said something that deemed your friendship not worth keeping. Maybe you were too pushy. Or not pushy enough.

Rafe’s throat tightens. He never planned to have this conversation. He never wanted to.

You see his jaw clench. His silence is loud enough. It’s obvious he’s done speaking.

“Nevermind,” you say dejectedly. You turn, but his deep voice stops you.

“Where are you going?” he asks, his protective instinct kicking in again.

“Back to my friends,” you say.

“He’ll just bother you again,” Rafe states. “Come on.”

He tilts his head towards the side of the beach he was on. Looking at the group of the same rowdy guys you always see him with in the distance makes you frown.

No matter how much you’ve missed him, you know that standing silently next to him while he jokes around with his friends will just be a painful reminder of how he chose them and not you.

“I’ll be fine,” you say.

“It wasn’t a question,” Rafe snaps abruptly.

For the first time since you started speaking again, the compassion you always feel for him is overpowered by anger. You know he’s helping you, but his domineering tone reminds you of how Ty speaks to you.

“I’ll be fine,” you repeat. The cold tide reaches your feet, soaking your shoes.

Irritation pricks Rafe’s skin. For years, you’ve been trying to force conversations with him, and now, when he’s inviting you to stay by his side, you’re shutting him down?

As you walk away, the feeling of rejection screws a hole into his chest. Then he realizes that this is the cold, empty way he’s been making you feel for years.

“I know,” you say when you see Sarah, acknowledging her puzzled expression, linking arms with her.

You’re about to tell her this is all a game of pretend, but the risk of Ty finding out from anyone overhearing or her accidentally mentioning it to someone is too scary.

“What was that?” she says with a disbelieving laugh.

“Rafe and I… started talking again. The other night. And we’re seeing each other now.”

“Wow,” is all she can say. She glances across the beach, as if looking at Rafe will offer any sort of clarity.

You haven’t spoken much about him with Sarah. Years ago, you’d often tell her how much you wished he’d just talk to you again and she’d tell you he doesn’t talk to anyone anymore.

She knows your relationship with him is strained and basically non-existent. You feel bad for lying to her, but your fear of Ty is too big to take any risks.

As the night carries on, your ex stays away from you.

Before heading home, you separate from your friends for just a moment to throw out your cup when you see a figure approaching you.

Goosebumps grow across your skin as Ty passes by behind you, his keys jingling in his hand.

“You planning on hiding behind him forever?” he asks. “What’s gonna happen when he’s not around, huh?”

You stare at him with a scowl, hoping your face isn’t showing just how frightened you are.

To your relief, Ty continues on his way, crossing into the parking lot. You remember him picking you up in the car you watch him sit in now and how he acted like such a gentleman, all the while hiding who he really was.

He succeeded in scaring you. His words left you unsettled, tears pricking your eyes, your breath shallow. The thought of going home and sleeping alone fills you with dread.

Maybe it was just an empty threat. But maybe it wasn’t.

You need someone to stay with you tonight. You rush back onto the sand towards the other side of the beach.

Rafe’s gaze is fixed on one of his friends telling a drunken story. But then you appear, crossing the distance with a fear-struck expression.

“What’d he do?” Rafe mutters, his body tensing. “Where is he?”

“He left,” you respond. Your anxiety pushes you to hold his forearm for some stability.

“What’d he do?” he repeats.

“He… said some stuff,” you say, voice shaking. “Can you-”

“I told you to stay with me,” Rafe interrupts. He’s seething. This could have been prevented if you had just listened to him.

But the way you’re breathing and holding onto him, as if you’re lost at sea and he’s the only thing keeping you afloat, makes him regret snapping.

“And I didn’t listen because you yelled at me just like he does,” you mumble quietly, letting go.

The comparison stings. He shouldn’t blame you. He knows that. And now that the booze has worn off, he’d love a shot at Ty with nothing slowing him down.

Some of his buddies are watching you two in confusion. They’d never seen you together and now you’re clearly in a heated conversation. Just like a couple fighting.

“What were you gonna ask me?” Rafe says, wishing he hadn’t interrupted you.

You’re unsure if you should ask. But even with your home’s security system in place, who knows how long police would take to arrive after a triggered alarm? You need someone already there in case Ty is crazy enough to break in. Someone you know can protect you.

“Can you stay at my house tonight?“ you mumble. “I’m scared of being alone.”

Rafe falters. He agreed to pretend to be your boyfriend, and staying with you is a boyfriend thing to do, but the pressure of being in an empty house together after years of avoiding you makes him uneasy.

Yet, at the same time, the prospect of being completely alone with you gives him a sense of home that only adds to the confusion that’s been clouding in his mind.

“Did you drive here?” he finally says.

You know next to nothing about Rafe these days, but you do know that he does almost everything alone. He never arrives or leaves parties with people. It’s always just him on his motorcycle.

“I came with a friend,” you reply. “But I can wait until you’re ready to leave.”

His muscles lose some of their tension. You’d be willing to stand here and wait for as long as you’d need to just so you don’t have to be on your own. You’re desperate.

Rafe stays out until he’s exhausted. It’s how he makes sure the second he’s in bed, he can take a shot or do a line and fall asleep right away, giving no opportunity to be subjected to his thoughts.

But guilt is a powerful opponent and this is a fight he knows he’ll lose.

“Let’s go,” he sighs.

After you let your friend know you have a ride home, you make your way to Rafe’s motorcycle with him in silence.

He grabs his helmet from the boot, thoughtlessly about to put it on. But then he remembers he’s not alone for once.

He holds the helmet out to you. You hesitate, about to ask him if he has an extra for himself, but why would he?

“You sure?” you ask.

“Take it.”

“You don’t have to,” you say. Rafe sends a groan towards the starry sky.

“Goddamn it, do you have to be so difficult?” he mutters. The edge of his tone is cutting. You’re fed up.

“I know you’re doing me a favor, but could you stop being so rude about it?” you say.

Rafe exhales in frustration. Shit. He’s sure he’s acting just like your asshole ex again.

“Isn’t the whole point of this to keep you safe?” he says, softness in his voice. “Can you just put it on?”

You look up at him through your lashes. His forlorn gaze extinguishes the fire of your irritation and you relent, accepting the helmet, the shell cold and hard in your hands.

Rafe swings his leg over the bike, turning on the engine. He glances back at you as you put the helmet on.

You steady yourself and straddle the sputtering motorcycle. It’s nerve-racking placing your hands on Rafe’s hips.

With his feet on the ground, he drags his big hands over yours and guides them up to his abdomen.

“You have to hold tighter,” he half-shouts over the engine. You obey, your chest pressing against his back, your arms wrapping around his torso.

You wonder if he can feel how fast your heart is pounding. His t-shirt is so thin. His body is firm and warm.

You appreciate that he gave you his helmet, but you wish it wasn’t in the way now so that you could lean on him and press your cheek between his shoulder blades.

Your mind has run away from you. It’s odd craving someone who doesn’t seem to like you all that much. You still don’t even know why he’s helping you.

As Rafe drives out of the lot, slower than he usually would, he hates that he likes the feeling of you wrapped around him this much. He’s been pushing this sort of closeness away for so long. He didn’t know it could feel so good.

As he drives beneath the glowing streetlights, he can’t remember the last time he felt proud of himself like he does now. The relief that washed over your face when he told you he’d stay at your house is replaying in his mind.

While he’s the one protecting you, you’re giving him something, too. You’re pulling him away from the sense of aimlessness he lives in every day.

Rafe goes to his place first, stuffing the things he’ll need to sleep over into a duffle bag and draping it across his chest, before driving to your house.

When you step through the front door together, he watches you quickly enter your code into the security panel, then rush to shut and lock the door.

You’re clearly still so terrified. Rafe needs to know exactly what Ty did to make you act like this.

“What’d he say to you?” he breaks the silence, dropping his bag into his hand. “Tonight. What’d he say?”

You lean against the door, hands tucked behind you as you look up at him. It’s odd, Rafe being in your house. You never thought he’d be here again.

“He asked me if I’m gonna hide behind you forever and what I’ll do when you’re not with me,” you say. It makes Rafe want to kill the idiot with his bare hands.

“I’d call the police,” you continue, “but they don’t help unless he actually does something. Or if there’s proof that he’s planning to. I just hope he gets tired of it so you don’t have to keep doing this.”

Rafe wants to tell you he’ll be here for you for as long as you need him. It’s a shock that his knee-jerk reaction is to make a promise to anyone, let alone to you.

But it’s no surprise that your focus is on how this is affecting him. He still can’t figure out what could possibly make you think he’s worth the consideration.

“Where am I sleeping?” he asks, settling for the easy way out of the conversation.

You lead him upstairs to the guest room a few doors down from your bedroom. Rafe’s eyes travel over the family photos organized in a neat grid on the hallway wall, watching you grow up through every image.

His heart lurches at an image of four people on the beach. It’s you two as kids, surrounded by your smiling mothers. He hasn’t looked at a photo of his mom in years.

You notice the sound of Rafe’s footsteps stop and you look back to see him staring at a photo. You’ve memorized the wall by now, knowing exactly which one he’s looking at.

What can you possibly say? That you miss her, too? You can’t come close to understanding his grief.

His forehead crinkles, his Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow, and you swear you see him stop breathing for a moment. Then his gaze darts off of the photo and you silently lead him the rest of the way.

Rafe enters the room you take him to and swings the door behind him without a word.

You get ready for bed and settle under your covers. Knowing you’re not alone helps you doze off within minutes.

You’re in a deep sleep when a loud clang pulls you into consciousness. Immediately, you fear it’s Ty.

But once you hear the tapping on the window, you realize it’s storming outside. A roll of thunder is what woke you up. You check the time to see it’s nearly two a.m.

Thunder rumbles again as you slip out of bed. Your survival instinct is beckoning you to go check on Rafe, to make sure he’s still here in case you need him.

You turn on the hallway light and see that the guest room door is just slightly open. And the bed is empty.

Before you can jump to conclusions, you hear a laugh track spilling out of the television downstairs. He didn’t leave.

You’re pretty sure Rafe doesn’t want you disrupting his solitude. But you need to know why he’s doing all this for you. It’s been tumbling in your mind since he agreed to it. That’s what gives you the push to go downstairs and find him.

(part three)

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[drchucktingle]

Chuck, how do you deal with people who are rude about you and your work? I write queer romance and I want to put my writing out there for people to read, but I'm a very sensitive person and I know it will be hard not to take insults personally and let them affect me. I don't want to let that stop me from expressing myself and sharing my art, but I'm scared!

very good question buckaroo. i am a good example of this as pretty much EVERYONE was rude about my work for many years calling it 'so bad its good' (it is just good) and 'terrible photoshop' (i think it has a great and instantly recognizable style) and 'intentionally stupid premises' (i dont think there is anything stupid about sex being fun and whimsical and playful). even these days the reaction of the VAST majority of buckaroos who discover chuck have this reaction AT FIRST, and then learn to appreciate the tingleverse in a more sincere way over time.

all that is to say BEING DOUBTED HAS WORKED OUT VERY WELL FOR ME. art that changes meaning over time can be very powerful, so if someones initial reaction to my trot is one thing and then it evolves into another thing, well that is just good art. while it can feel bad to get a bad review, i would say a bad review just means you have entered a realm of tension and change and discord and WE ARE TALKIN ABOUT ART BUD so that, in itself, is very exciting.

i think of what i do as 'punk writing', and a big part of that means pushing against preconceived sensibilities. not many other authors will proudly say 'there SHOULD be some spelling errors in my erotic shorts because i wrote it in a day and edited it once. that is the FEELING i want to create', but that is my way. by creating what is in my soul i KNOW i am going to bother some buckaroos and that is okay.

now i am NOT assuming you are also doing punk writing (that is okay of course we all have our own styles. what i am doing with tinglers is pretty rare), but it still stands to remember that there are 7.8 billion people on the planet of this dang timeline and some of them are bound to be bothered by your creations. that is not a problem, that is just part of baring your authentic self.

the other thing to remember is theres no REAL right or wrong in art. it can be analyzed in different ways and i tend to look at it in a way of comparing intention to result, but even THAT is not strictly correct. therefore any bad review of something you make is not actually BAD it is just someones information and feedback for you to take or leave. a one star review is just another opinion, it is no more right or wrong than your own opinion, and that is wonderful. it is freeing.

if i see a bad review of my own book, lets just say CAMP DAMASCUS for instance, i do not get upset because i know this: that reviewer is not wrong. camp damascus is five stars for me, but it is one star for someone else AND THAT IS OK. THAT IS THE WAY IT SHOULD BE. THAT IS GREAT ART. also MAYBE THEY KNOW BETTER THAN I DO. just because i wrote the book does not mean i am the authority on it, and the conversation and tension between those that enjoy something and those that despise it is a creative act. the audience engaging with your work is just your art emerging from its cocoon and saying 'here i am. lets see where i flutter off to now'

do not fear the river of this timeline sweeping away your creations and carrying them where it will. this is inevitable, but it is also beautiful and freeing. you cannot swim against it and that is okay bud, because YOU HAVE ALREADY WON. you have already created something and given a piece of yourself back to this timeline and that is a great honor and privilege. it is literally all there is

by creating ANYTHING you are proving love is real, and that is something to be proud of

[violetbeauregut]

In Defense of Feedism

I was absolutely struck when I read  @fatliberation‘s beautiful, vulnerable post the other day. They always have brilliant ideas and they show unfailing grace and kindness to everyone, despite a ton of rude, ill-informed backlash (I would 100% recommend following them). 

I can’t stop thinking about the reactions to that post and how incredibly strange it is to have to tiptoe around feedism (to use an umbrella term) in a movement that is supposed to be centered around ending the oppression of fat people. 

I can understand why fat people who are not feedists would be weary or even repulsed by this kink. From the outside it may seem degrading and manipulative that the language and insults used against fat people are replicated in the bedroom. It is also harmful to be fetishized when you do not want to be fetishized, both in real life and online. 

But these are the only points I’ve heard against feedism that I consider to be a legitimate argument in the discourse of fat liberation, as these are the only claims against feedism I’ve come across that are not based in fatphobia. If you are in favor of fat liberation, then you must see fatness as morally neutral. Therefore, the choice to gain weight is not inherently “good” or “bad,” it is instead a matter of autonomy– a right that should be granted to everyone, regardless of size. 

The major issue with feedism is the same issue that permeates all kink and, by extension, all sexuality: consent. There are feedists, particularly feeders, who fetishize all fat people, regardless of their wishes; feedists who try to force fat people to participate in kink with or without their knowledge or permission. This is abhorrent behavior; there are no excuses for it. But the problem here is a violation of consent and not the kink itself. The unethical practice of kink does not make the kink unethical. And while feedees are often disregarded in discussions of feedism and fat liberation (which I have already talked about in depth here), there are most assuredly fat feedees, like myself, who are fully consenting to fat fetish play. 

While I can only speak for myself, I know that I am not the only person who developed this kink because of weight-related trauma. When you grow up fat, when you are forced to go to Weight Watchers at seven years old, your brain comes to associate fat as taboo and taboo as sexy–but it goes beyond an attraction to something risky or frowned upon. 

I live my life as a fat woman; I am fat at the doctor’s office and fat in tiny airplane seats and I am especially fat as a feedee. No matter if I’m engaging with my kink or not, I am fat and I don’t get to stop being fat outside of my bedroom. Out of all of the scenarios where I am existing in my fat body, engaging in kink play is the only one where I am experiencing pleasure because of my body, not despite it. It’s arousing to be praised for the thing that once made you hate yourself. It’s arousing to engage with something you fear or that has harmed you in a safe, controlled context where you have all the power to make it stop. 

What anti-feedist fat liberationists need to understand is that feedism is, at its core, a resistance to fatphobia. When you see things that are typically fatphobic in feedist play– terms like “pig,” “cow,” “tubby,” etc. and comments about being “out of shape” or “ruined” by fat– it is not a replication of weight stigma, but a subversion of it. Feedism takes the harmful stereotypes of fatness and robs them of their power by putting them in a new context; a context where fatness is so desirable that feedists want more of it. By using the language and misconceptions of fatness to give and receive pleasure instead of to oppress, feedism not only creates a safe space to heal from fatphobic trauma, but it empowers fatness– it empowers fat people, which is supposed to be the goal of fat liberation.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Hi! You hope you having a great day. I really love your works so I was curios if you could write something with Stolas x reader? What if instead of Stella he was forced to marry her sister who is her complete opposite (kind, caring, patient etc.) and actually likes Stolas? This poor man needs love

A/n: I agree! He 100% does also reading this info is so cute because now he found his mate for life

Not only do owls mate for life, but male barn owls pull out all the stops to impress their lady loves

Sidenote: Since you would be an avian demon! You can imagine the feathers be the color of your choice along with body.

It was a shock to you, finding out that you'd be marrying Stolas instead of your sister. That you would be the one to creat an heir for the Goetia Family. You were finally getting something that your sister wasn't.

You just prayed he wouldn't be as bad as your sister was.

"You look beautiful...by the way." Stolas stepped by your side. The wedding was slowly wrapping up, guests teetering out.

Shifting your body, you turned to face your now husband as you gave him a soft smile as your feathers puffed out. "Really?" That wasn't something you were used to hearing, not with all the insults your sister tossed at you.

Tipping his head to you, Stolas returned your smile doing his best to make you relax. You were a jittery little thing, cute to boot. He was surprised with how kind you were too, it wasn't something he was expecting. Clearing out his throat, Stolas shifted his body as he held out his talon for you to take.

"I noticed you were a little tense during our dance, I am not sure if it was me or all the guests watching us." He paused. "How about we try this again, just the two of us."

Looking up at him, you gave Stolas a soft smile as you stepped close taking hold of his talon as he pulled you close to his chest. "I'd love too."

A year, Stolas couldn't believe it has been a year since he has been married to you and yet he has never been happier. You were his mate, the one he was going to spend the rest of his life with and now you made him a father.

He never thought he would get this chance at happiness when he had heard he was in an arranged marriage, he couldn't help but worry that it was going to be Stella and then he saw you.

The moment he laid his eyes on you he fell in love, that he was going to spend the rest of his life with you. You were everything that he had wanted and more.

"You're staring again."

Your voice was soft, your hand on your growing belly as you shifted in the bed giving him a rather sleepy smile.

"You're beautiful." He whispered as he stood up caressing your cheek. "Thank you."

Laughing, you shook your head as you hid your face into one of the many pillows. "You don't have to thank me Stolas."

Letting out a hum, Stolas moved so he was now leaving behind you as he held you close to his chest, your eyes closing.

He knew it was true, he didn't have too but yet he couldn't help it because he did not think he could imagine a life without you.

[hazbinwhoree]

I feel like maybe Adam was wearing a mask because he's secretly insecure about his looks since he kept losing the two people made to be his soul mate to Luci.

So, when when you two go for a meeting, Adam is scared he'll lose you to luci like everyone else. And Luci pulls everything in the book to prove he can do it again, but it doesn't work. I was craving something sweet.

Failed 3 For 3

Part 1/2 Part 2

A/N: This takes place after episode 8, in a universe where Adam was spared by Lucifer and not stabbed by Nifty.

Adam had lost Lilith to Lucifer, and he had taken it hard. Then he lost Eve too, also to Lucifer, and Adam took that loss even harder. Lilith had left him for Lucifer but Eve cheated on him with Lucifer. Adam would never admit it, but he was lonely and constantly feared losing the ones he loved.

He was constantly worried he’d lose (Name) too. And when they were summoned to meet Charlie in Hell regarding newly reformed sinners, Adam was nauseous. He couldn’t shake the idea that Lucifer would successfully steal (Name) from him too, and he’d be alone again.

Adam fidgeted with his mask’s horns while he waited for Charlie and Lucifer to enter the meeting room. (Name) recognized the nervous habit and frowned. “Adam?” She reached out and gently grabbed his hand. “What’s wrong?”

Before Adam could answer, the doors opened and Charlie came bounding in. Adam pulled his hand away, setting a grin on his mask.

Vaggie followed Charlie, and Lucifer followed her. (Name) noticed Adam tense when Lucifer walked in.

The meeting proceeded and Lucifer said nothing, letting Charlie do all the talking until the end. The meeting concluded, and Lucifer boldly marched right up to (Name). Adam’s fists clenched.

“And who are you, gorgeous?” Lucifer asked, taking her hand and kissing it. (Name) scowled. “Adam’s wife,” she emphasized, pulling her hand away. Lucifer grinned. “Oh really? Well you know what happened with his last two wives right?” She now understood what had Adam so on edge. Lucifer was trying to go three for three.

She didn’t dignify Lucifer with an answer, but that didn’t deter him. “What are you doing with a prick like Adam anyway? I’m sure he doesn’t treat you right. A woman as gorgeous as you is too good for a man like him.”

“Adam is a wonderful husband,” (Name) retorted.

“Oh sure. That’s why his first and second wife both came to me–” Adam slammed his fist down on the table. Lucifer smirked. “Calm down, Adam, I’m trying to have a conversation with your wife.” “No, you’re trying to steal her,” Adam spit.

Lucifer didn’t answer, turning back to (Name). He tried to take her hand again but she snatched it away. “Oh come on, beautiful,” Lucifer pouted.

“No, you know what?” (Name) was pissed. “How dare you, rub Adam’s previous wives in his face, and then to add insult to injury, try to woo his current wife right fucking in front of him. That’s low as fuck. Adam is the only man I want and need, he treats me better than you ever could, and he’s more than attractive. He’s stunning. And tall, short man. So piss the fuck right off and stop disrespecting my husband.”

(Name)’s “short” comment clearly pissed off Lucifer, who growled and turned on his heel, storming out of the room. Charlie and Vaggie watched on as Adam created a portal for himself and (Name). Neither spared the girls a glance as they went through.

Back in Heaven, Adam immediately pulled (Name) into an embrace, not caring who was around to watch. He hugged her tightly, and muttered, “Thank you.”

(Name) hugged him back, her heart aching. “Don’t thank me for doing what any good wife would do,” she told him, burying her face in his chest. Adam tightened his grip on her before abruptly taking flight, carrying (Name) back to their shared home.

Inside, Adam cuddled up to (Name) on the couch. “Can you take off your mask?” (Name) asked.

Adam hesitated. He felt most best with it on. Ever since Eve, his mask had been a source of comfort and confidence. He rarely took it off, only taking it off to sleep and only taking it off around (Name).

(Name) gently grabbed his face in both her hands. “Let me see my beautiful boy.”

Adam reluctantly lifted his mask, discarding it next to the couch. (Name) was on him in seconds, climbing into his lap and pressing her lips to his.

Her fingers tangled in his hair as they made out.

When they finally pulled apart, (Name) brushed his hair out of his eyes and stared into them intensely.

“Lucifer is nothing compared to you. He could never have me in a million years. You have me. I chose you. I choose you everyday. I love you so fucking much, Adam.”

Adam felt a lump in his throat but god damn him if he cried.

He pulled (Name) back into his chest, holding her as she rested her head on his shoulder. “I love you too,” he managed to say without his voice cracking.

“I’ll never leave you. I promise.”

[peachysunrize]

[ TANGERINE DREAMS ]

Summary: being stood up on his wedding day, Aemond's life takes a turn for the worse. Heartbroken and humiliated, he finds unexpected help in Helena's childhood friend, who helps him move back into his family mansion. Summer cocktail parties and a long stay at the Targaryen residency, Aemond might let the girl who's always been in his life make a home in his heart.

Tangerines, in general, symbolize prosperity, good luck and happiness. So if these delicious fruits appear in your dreams - whole or in the form of juice - it is usually very positive. A dream with tangerines expresses the desire and the possibility of progress and prosperity

Warnings: angggggst, angst, ANGST, no beta we die like Beesbury

Word count: 5k+

A/n: sooooo, thoughts pleaseeeee! I hope you like this chapter! omg we only have one chapter left from this series aaaaa🥹🥹 Comments and reblogs are appreciated<3

-> series masterlist <-

Chapter 9: don’t let me be misunderstood

Aemond.

Aemond.

Aemond.

Maybe you will grow tired of whispering his name to yourself, but you have been doing this for the past four or five hours while sitting by the edge of the lake under the clear starry sky, shivering with each cold breeze.

Aemond.

Aemond.

Aemond.

It sounds more like a prayer rather than his name. Maybe you are praying to him to take mercy on you and walk back the path he took earlier.

You rock on your bottom like a child, holding your knees to your chest as you stare at the reflection of the moonlight on the edge of the water. At this point, your head is emptier than the shadow of a cloud, and you do not know whether the shadow will darken by snow or thunderstorms.

There is little to think about, or maybe too much given how much you have been mumbling to yourself. You thought about all the little things his family said; about you, about Alys, about him — Even the mere thought of him hurts your heart, the flesh ripping slowly as if he has chained your heart tightly, squeezing it tightly.

Shuddering, you look up as the leaves rustle by the cold breeze, creating a soft sound that ripples through the air. You rub your bare arms, cursing yourself for wearing such a beautiful dress for a birthday you were pretty sure it would turn into shambles, but at least you knew Aemond would like it — you do not know if he did or not.

“Hey, loner.”

You turn around, finding Aegon making himself comfortable next to you on the grass, a bottle of whiskey in his hand as he hands you his coat.

“Go on, I’m pretty numb now,” he says, dropping the fabric around your shoulders, nudging you by his elbow, taking a long sip from the amber liquid, “What a shit show, huh?”

“Yeah,” you reply, voice hoarse and raspy with all the crying you have done earlier, sighing loudly, “Yeah.”

“C’mon, talk to me,” he urges you, handing you the bottle before he lies on the grass, staring up at the sky as he waits for you to say something, “I know my brother’s an ass.”

“No, Aegon—“ you sniffle, turning around to look at him, “He is… he is just complicated. He is a good guy—“

“A good guy would never let his girl be insulted in front of everyone,” he scoffs, taking another swig from his bottle, “You didn’t deserve that, sorry on behalf of everyone, Clementine.”

“What?” You ask, looking at him with wide eyes, totally surprised by how he knows the childhood nickname Aemond called you once, “How do you know that?”

“Fuck me,” he groans, slapping his hand on his forehead, “You tellin’ me he doesn’t call you this to your face?”

“No…?” You chuckle, resting your cheek on your knees as you smile softly at him, wiping the remaining tears away, “Does he do it a lot?”

“Duh! Every fucking time!” He tells you as if he is surprised by your confusion, “Oh, man, my brother is such a dumbass. He can’t shut up about you! Every time he opens his mouth all we can hear is Clementine this Clementine that, it’s honestly so annoying! I can’t fucking stand how lovestruck he is—woah, okay, I shouldn’t—” He sits up immediately, reaching to squeeze your shoulder when he notices your eyes watering again, your arms tightening around your legs.

“It’s not…” you take a deep breath,  letting the tears fall freely on your cheeks, “he was so lovely to me, I don’t know what happened but-but maybe I didn’t show him enough love, and reassure him—”

“You’ve got to be fucking kiddin’ me,” Aegon groans, dropping back down on the ground, “He fucked with you and you’re blaming yourself for it? Why the fuck would you do that? Are you a masochist or somethin’?”

“I’m not a fucking masochist, I just… I just love him so much! He thinks I will leave him too because everyone he’s ever loved once left him! Maybe I couldn’t show how much he meant to me, maybe I’m too weak to make sure he knows I love him and I’d rather die than let go of him.”

“Listen to me,” he urges you to lay down beside him, looking at the sky together as he continues talking, “Aemond is a really different man. He isn’t easy to love, hell, even Mum has issues with loving him—“

“That’s not making it any better, Aegon,” you glare at him, words falling from your lips coated in venom, “You’re telling me that even Alicent is hesitant to love him, and I’m supposed to just be okay with that? No wonder he chose to leave.”

“What we’re not gonna do is excuse his actions,” he slaps the side of your hip with the back of his hand, “I meant what I said, he doesn’t shut up about you, but he’s also hesitant about everything! You, me, Vhagar, he can’t let himself get hurt again, even though he knows you’ll never leave him on your own record. He fears the thought of leaving you, so he left you first because it hurts him less to think he didn’t like you enough instead of you not liking him enough.”

“It doesn’t make any sense!” You drop your hands on the grass in defeat, “He’s overthinking this! I know he’s still dealing with the thought of his snake of an ex but… but he needs to let himself feel loved!”

“He does feel loved, and those words didn’t come from his heart. They came from the dark voices in his head, I bet he couldn’t even look at you when he left,” Aegon explains, turning his head to look at your face, “I think you should go find him, I’m pretty fucking sure he’s beating himself to death for doing this to you. But remember that he is the one who needs to apologize, not you.”

“You’re right, he let them call me poor and a gold digger,” you chuckle, sitting up as you speak, “Do you know he said that our relationship was ridiculous?”

“Fucking hell, this guy is a twat I swear,” you laugh a little when Aegon fakes a cry, “Why can’t men be normal for a goddamn second?”

“You realize you’re a man too, right?”

“Yeah, and do I look normal to you?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, sitting up to give you a hug when you laugh, squeezing you into his arms before he lets go, “Give him a piece of your mind, okay? Make him regret it.”

“Fine,” you nod, trying to find enough courage to stand up and leave, but a heavy feeling grounds you, “I think… I think I’m afraid, Aegon.”

“Don’t be, he might seem intimidating but there’s nothing in his heart except the love he has for you. He’s just being a brat. Maybe slap him once or twice and he’ll be at your mercy completely.”

“I know you wanted to say give him a blow job, thank you for censoring your words,” you say, standing up before brushing the dirt off your dress, and handing Aegon his coat back.

“Actually,” he holds his finger up, giving you a teasing smile, “I wanted to say that you should probably sit on his face so he won’t be able to talk.”

“That’s your brother, you disgusting asshole,” you laugh softly, taking your heels in your hands as you walk barefoot in the path Aemond took earlier.

You remember how he would sneak away from dinners when he was a kid, running towards the empty stables with a book under his arm; it was one of the most exciting things for both of you when you searched for him all night, only to find him sitting on straws with a flashlight and his book.

Walking through the dark stables, you see only a few lights on, and your thoughts are confirmed when you slowly stand in front of the open door, finding Aemond sitting on the ground next to a seemingly sick horse, stroking its neck gently.

“They say she’ll die,” his voice comes out in a gentle tone, and for the second time tonight, your eyes fill with tears — the yearning makes your chest tighten, even if it has been only five or six hours since he left you.

You step inside the stall, cautious not to make any sounds to disturb the unconscious horse lying on the ground next to him as you slowly lower yourself next to him on the straws, your bare shoulders brushing against his arm.

“What’s wrong with her?” You ask quietly, trying to keep your tears away from streaming down your face; how can you survive when you hurt just by looking at his side profile?

“Old age,” he sighs, looking down at his lap, pressing his lips into a thin line, “It’s rare, but she’s been clinging to life for so long.”

“Was she yours?” You look at him, sucking in a sharp breath when he turns around to look at you, his face red and cheek covered in dried tears, smiling sadly at you.

“No,” he shakes his head and looks away from you, “She used to be Mum’s favorite. I remember when she would take us to different races with Uncle Gwayne, and tell us about how she was so close to becoming a champion herself with her.”

“Why couldn’t she do it?” You ask, reaching to hold his hand nervously, giving him enough time to pull away but when he doesn’t, you relax instantly.

“She got married,” his answer is curt, as if even the mere thought of his parents being together sours his mood, “Her marriage was the end of her dreams. Maybe she would be happier if she didn’t have us quite young, maybe we would be happier if we didn’t exist.”

“Don’t say that,” you swallow, frowning slightly as you reach to cup his cheek, turning his face to stare into his eye, “She’s much happier with you by her side, and I’m forever thankful for your existence.”

“You’ll be much happier without me,” he rests his palm on your hand, kissing your thumb as he keeps his gaze locked onto you.

“That’s not for you to decide,” you caress his scarred cheek, trembling a bit as you feel the warmth radiating from his skin, “I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you, when I’m kissing you, when I’m holding you.”

“You deserve the fucking world,” he rests his forehead on yours, closing his eye as he lets himself get consumed by your touch, “I can’t give it to you. One day you’ll realize how damaged I am…”

“You don’t need to give me the world, Little nerd, you are my world,” finally the tears stream down your cheeks, soaking your face as you speak, “Don’t push me away, I’m begging you—“

“I’ll only hurt you, and you’ll leave me. Losing me would do less harm than being with me—“ his voice cracks, his hand moving towards your back, rubbing and memorizing every up and down of your waist.

“No, Aemond, no,” you shake your head frantically, sobs wrecking your body as you try to tell him how you feel, “Don’t give up on us! I’m sorry I couldn’t show you how much I love you, I’m sorry if I was not enough for you. But please, please, don’t let go of me!”

“Don’t cry, I can’t-I can’t bear to see you cry. I’d rather get stabbed to death than see your beautiful face covered in tears,” he begs, leaning down to kiss your tears away, “I’m not giving up on us, I…I’m just giving us a break so we can think. I’ve never been loved like you have shown me.”

“Then why?” You scream at him, fisting his shirt to pull him even closer, your nose brushing against his, “Why did you say we were ridiculous? Why did you not stand up for me when I was being humiliated by your family? If I’ve shown how deeply I’ve loved you, why does it feel like it’s not enough?”

“It’s more than enough, my gorgeous girl,” he kisses the bridge of your nose, and you feel his tears fall on your cheek. “I’ve been taking you for granted. I…I can’t even defend you against them. I was paralyzed. I wanted to vanish and never be seen again, and now I see why. I’ve failed and hurt you so much, not thinking about how me leaving you alone might make you feel.”

“I love you, Aemond,” you say, words falling from your lips in a breathless whisper, “I love you, I love you— I can’t put into words how in love I am because every time I look at you I feel like I’m suffocating with the amount of affection I hold for you! I’m not good with words, Little nerd, but…but I know that being with you would hurt much less than me moving back to Beesbury knowing we aren’t going to make it.”

“I’m not giving up on us—I…” he sighs, gathering his thoughts as best as he can before he replies, but in truth, he is just as much of a mess as you are, “I need to think.”

“I love you, and even if we don’t make it, just know that you are the happiest most memorable experience of my life,” you lean up a little, planting a gentle kiss on his lips, “Aegon told me about the Clementine thing. I didn’t know you remember.”

“How can I ever forget?” he kisses you again, his heart tightening with each peck he leaves on your lips, “You were so chatty about your silly dreams, and I can’t forget Hel’s confused face when she mumbled about you dreaming of Tangerines.”

“There’s still hope for us, right?” You ask, shaking your head and sobbing when he pulls you into his embrace, holding you against his chest tightly.

“There’ll always be hope for us,” he mutters against your hair, his fingers holding onto your shoulders as if the subtle touch would ground him and not let him drown, “I just need to think.”

“Yeah, sure,” you pull away, wiping your tears before you give him a small smile, watching as the first rays of sunshine fall on the entrance of the stables, and you take it as your cue to leave him with the hope of kissing him again, “I’ll see you inside.”

“You mean everything to me,” he whispers, watching you stand up on shaky legs, brushing the straws off your dress as you try to keep yourself calm and collected, but the soreness in your eyes makes it harder.

“And yet you didn’t say you love me back.”

You leave with one last smile, walking barefoot towards the end of the pathway, heels clinking to each other as you swing them with your hand, biting your lip to stop yourself from falling apart.

The numbness comes back. You can feel how your body gets hollower with each step you take towards the door of the building. Your feet ache, and you know there will be bruises on them in a few hours.

The voices from the inside of the building grow louder, and when you step inside the hall, you find your best friend and her brothers trying to keep their Mother sane while their uncle argues with their grandfather.

“Babe,” Helaena notices you when you close the door behind you quietly, crossing the dining hall to pull you into a tight hug, shushing you as you let your sobs wreck your body without a care in this world, “I’m so sorry, beautiful, so so sorry.”

“Hey…” Aegon appears beside you, rubbing your back while you bury your face in Hel’s neck, letting her calmness seep into your skin with each caress she leaves on your head.

“Where is Aemond?” Otto asks, his voice echoing in the hall, “He needs to get here and explain the mess he made.”

“What?” you whisper in disbelief, slowly removing yourself from Helaena as you look at him, “The mess Aemond made?”

“Father, please,” Alicent says, rubbing the skin of her neck with shaky hands, “It is not Aemond you should be angry at, nor it’s her mess.”

“We ought to be more careful than ever! Your boy has already ruined what we tried to build for so long when she decided to marry a woman nearly ten years older. After everything I have done, everything you have sacrificed, it should not be so hard to put a leash on him and make sure he doesn’t fuck around and make a fool out of us in front of Daemon!”

“What we built is gone, Father,” Alicent sighs, taking a large sip of whatever liquor is in the glass, “They have amazing lives, my children. They are happy at least, happier than me or Gwayne ever were.”

“Happiness won’t make their names pop inside their father’s will!”

“We don’t even like that man! We fucking hate him in fact, so you better keep your shit away from us,” Aegon spits the words out, huffing when he sees Otto glaring at him, “Aemond was ridiculed tonight, at his own fucking birthday and all you care about is his reputation?”

“He is the only person who can change things but now, for getting into another miserable relationship with a nobody, he has lost the chance!”

“She’s been Helaena’s friend for so long, Father. Mind your words,” Gwayne interrupts him, crossing his arms as he keeps his eyes locked with his father.

“Or what?” Otto spits the words out, his phone clutched in his hand tightly.

“Or I will break your fucking neck.”

You turn around as soon as you hear Aemond’s voice, clutching Helaena’s hand when he walks very slowly toward his grandfather with his hands behind his back, his head held high.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Otto replies, giving Aemond a challenging look, “You didn’t have the courage to open your eyes and see how your fiance was taking advantage of you, now you want to break my neck because I said the truth?”

“No one disrespects my girlfriend, not even you,” Aemond stands in front of Otto, his glare unwavering, “She’s only two years older, doesn’t come from a rich family full of snakes, and most importantly, she cares about me. So yes, I would break your neck, because she is different from Alys and even I can see that with one eye.”

“You are blinded by lust because you can’t fall in love in nearly three months after a failed marriage—”

“I swear I will strangle you to death—”

In the blink of an eye, Aemond grabs Otto’s collar, but luckily Gwayne is quick enough to reach them. You watch in terror as Alicent and Aegon try to separate Aemond from his grandfather while Gwayne holds Otto back. You can not see if Aemond is trying to hit him or not but even the idea of him getting hurt because of you makes you tear up.

“Aemond, enough!” you reach and wrap your arms around his middle, pulling him back with Aegon’s help, holding on to him tightly so he will not run off and punch Otto in the face, “Please, don’t give him another reason to lash out.”

“For fuck sake, Aemond, get a grip!” Daeron yells, and you see the sea of emotions in Aemond’s eye as he tries to fight off the anger in him.

“Me?” Aemond chuckles, running a hand over his face as he shakes his head in disbelief, “Me? I endured a night with the person who cut out my eye! I sat there and watched how they insulted someone I care about and couldn’t do anything to prevent it! I waited and took the humiliation on my birthday because I didn’t want to make someone else miserable by opening my mouth! Now you say I need to get a fucking grip? No, Daeron, it’s you, it’s all of you! You want to control my life but I won’t let you win this time.”

“It’s not about winning, Aemond—“

“We’re leaving,” he cuts off his mother’s sentence, grabbing your hand gently in his, threading his fingers through yours before he starts walking toward the door. You follow silently, squeezing his hand in reassurance as you let him guide you outside.

You walk hand in hand in tense silence as you walk towards the parking, finding the doorman running with Aemond’s car keys, handing them to him before he says a quick good morning. Aemond nods and leads you to his car, opening the door for you, and surprising you with a quick kiss on the crown of your head.

You give him a soft smile, sitting in the car and waiting for him to join you. The sunlight shines between the trees and warms your skin — grateful for the lack of roof of the car.

He starts the car, his lips pursed and a deep frown forms on his forehead as the sun shines on his face. He reaches for the dashboard and pulls his sunglasses out, putting them on before he twists the riding wheel, driving the car out of the parking lot to the main path.

You lean your head on the back of the seat watching the clouds move as Aemond speeds up. He shocks you by resting his hand on your thighs, gently caressing the bare skin through the slit of your dress.

You turn your head to look at him, noticing his stiff shoulders. He is battling for peace in his mind, you are sure. Maybe he feels guilty about how he treated you, maybe he just wants out from his family. 

He sighs, his thumb moving up and down the flesh of your thigh, enjoying the warmth you provide him with. You rest your hand on his, caressing the blue veins under his skin with the tip of your nail, skimming your finger over his knuckles gently.

You do not realize how much time has passed, but when you wake up, the Targaryen mansion comes into view, and you find Aemond pushing his sunglasses up on his head as he drives the car through the opening gates, looking stressed and confused from all the things that were said during the past few hours.

“We’re here,” he tells you softly, getting out of the car with ease before he walks and helps you out of the car as well, guiding you inside the mansion by his palm on the small of your back.

“Good morning, sir,” one of the house holders says, and Aemond nods at her, “Would you like to have breakfast here or on the balcony?”

“I’m not hungry, but she might be,” he answers stoically, turning his head to look at you, but his face softens slightly when he notices your disappointment written all over your face.

“I’d love to have breakfast on the balcony, please,” you let go of Aemond’s hand, smiling at the householder as she nods and smiles back, leaving the two of you alone to take your breakfast to the balcony.

“I need some time to think,” Aemond whispers, looking down at his shoes as he rocks on the balls of his feet, “I’m sorry I dragged you here, but I… I need to get my thoughts together, and couldn’t just leave you alone with them. I need a break.”

“It’s okay, I’m around if you need me,” you sigh, walking away from him upstairs towards where the balcony is, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Your day is dull, your mind is even worse. You had your breakfast with a bitterness you had no idea you possessed whilst you thought about Aemond, wondering what he was thinking about — probably the chaos that his family created and left the two of you dealing with the ruins of it later.

You tried to make yourself busy with doing whatever came to your mind; a long walk to the Weirwood tree and back, wandering around the mansion in hopes of finding something interesting, skipping meals, and snacking on fruit. But nothing seemed to make the gaping hole in your chest go away nor did they help with the dark thoughts that came into your head.

Now, sitting on the edge of the bed, you regret taking a long walk; Your feet are bruised and you notice a few painful blisters on the side of your feet, hissing as you apply a healing cream on the skin.

A knock brings you out of your thoughts, and before you can answer, you see Aemond pushing the door open, standing in front of you with tears stinging his eye. He has taken off his clothes from last night, now he is only in an old t-shirt with sweatpants.

“Hey you,” you greet him softly, watching him curiously as he takes a shaky step to the bed, slowly kneeling in front of you, taking the cream from your hands before he squeezes the tube on his palms, warming the cream before grabbing your ankle to gently apply it on the wounded skin.

“How did you hurt yourself?” His voice is barely above whispering as he kisses your shin, closing his eye when he hears your hisses in pain.

“I…I walked barefoot to the stables this morning,” you explain, eyes casted away from him, trying to escape from his intense gaze, “And I took a long walk a few hours ago.”

“You shouldn’t be so careless,” he rests your foot down, grabbing the other one in his warm hands as he speaks, “You need to take better of yourself or you’ll get hurt.”

“You’re doing a fine job in hurting me and taking care of me,” you scoff, rolling your eyes when his eye falls on your face.

“And I’m sorry for that.”

Your head snaps in his direction when you hear the tremble in his voice, lips parting in surprise as you look at his teary eye, his cheek pressed against your leg as he looks at you — his gaze is so intense to the point of melting you in place. 

“I…” he starts, resting his forehead on your knee, “I don’t need a break.”

“Aemond, you need some time—“

“I don’t need a break because I love you,” he looks up at you with the utmost adoration a human can ever possess, “I was a fucking idiot before for pushing you away, for doubting what we have, but I love you so much, my Clementine.”

Your lips quiver, and with a shaky hand, you reach down to cup his face, caressing his cheek as the tears fall on your fingers softly.

“I love you in a way I never thought I would,” he closes his eye, leaning his head into your palm, “I imagine my life without you in it, without your voice, without your smile, w-without you calling me that stupid nickname. Do you know what I saw?”

At this point, you are both crying, and with every word that slips past his lips you lean closer to take a good look at the desperation in his face, the longing, the love.

“I saw nothing, it was all black,” he sniffles, one hand coming to rest on the back of your neck as soon as your forehead touches his, “My life doesn’t exist without you. There is no hope left for me if you are gone. I will perish and turn to ashes if I don’t get to hold you at night. I will burn by the humiliation and misery I created for myself because I believed you would leave me.”

“Oh, my love,” you cry, pulling him up just a little so you can reach his lips easier, pressing a quick kiss, “Are you sure you’re not saying these because you feel defeated?”

“I’m sorry for directing my anger at you, I’m sorry for not voicing my love sooner. I was scared, fucking hell, I am scared because this is… this is not even near half of what I felt for anyone in my life; it’s blinding, it makes me bleed with need for you. All I’m asking is for you to accept my apology and take me back.”

“And if I don’t?” You ask, his lips hovering above yours, and you see him smile sadly, his large hand coming up to rest against your wet cheek.

“Then I will try to cope—“

“I’m not giving up on us,” you cut him off, shaking your head as you wrap your arms around his neck, “We will get through this together. We will talk, we will fight, but I won’t ever let go of you. There’ll always be hope for us.”

“I’m so fucking sorry for saying what I said,” he bites his lip to keep his composure, but his vision is blurry with unshed tears, “I’m not giving up on you, I promise.”

“I won’t either because I love you.”

“I love you,” he breathes against your lips, sealing his words with a deep quick kiss, “I love you, I love you—“

You press your lips to his, tasting his salty tears as they mix with yours, moving in sync while you explore each other's mouth after the chaos that pulled you apart.

“We’re okay,” you whisper, wishing to know if you will be able to hold and touch him like before, “We’ll be okay.”

“We are okay,” he nods frantically, “I love you, my gorgeous girl. We’ll be okay. I won’t leave you.”

“Neither will I,” you pull him into your arms, pressing his face to your neck as you sob, holding him close, breathing in his calming scent, “I won’t leave you, I will never put you through the pain you endured again.”

“I won’t do that either,” he presses a kiss to your neck, brushing his nose against your earlobe, “You’re my everything, I love you.”

[yandere-sins]

i have read all of your genshin yandere works and just mwah, beautiful. is diluc the type of yandere to break his darling, do you think? like intentionally, unintentionally? or would he ever give up and let his darling go free under like very specific circumstances or agreements? sorry if you were already asked this and i somehow accidentally missed it!

That's such a good question! Honestly, I feel like for Diluc, it's more of an unintentional breaking, but let's be honest: the psyche can only endure so much, and after being locked away and robbed of their autonomy, I don't see much hope for a darling. He thinks he's making the best choice for them, but living like he invisions just... isn't.

I don't see him intentionally letting them go either... especially not if they have a breakdown. But, I got some idea for this so I hope you enjoy it just as much!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

"I... I just can't."

With your wrist still locked in his grip, having been caught in motion to avoid your punch, Diluc felt your body sag before he even understood what was happening. Your voice, booming and screaming, had been so prevalent in his mind, the insults shooting directly into his heart like piercing sharp arrows, causing havoc to every inch of his being, that your feeble, foreboding words didn't register as fast.

And yet, before your knees could hit the floor, before you could inflict more pain to yourself—the only pain he couldn't save you from—he caught you. His arms, as strong and steady as his resolve to save you from the cruelty of the world, wrapped around your waist, interrupting your descend to the ground. However, Diluc realized quickly he could not prevent it from happening as your strength just seemed to vanish as the seconds passed by.

Together, you two sunk, his knees the only ones getting bruised as he cushioned the fall for you, one more plea of devotion that went unnoticed. And yet, when he let go of your wrist, it didn't collapse to your side, but to his shoulder, fingers burying into his coat, making him regret not changing his attire to something cleaner, more comfortable for you.

There was no sound accompanying the end of the war you had been waging with him, although he was a passive bystander in the chaos you created. It was so quiet; even the candle burning on your nightstand was louder than your shallow breaths of defeat. It almost made him nervous. Diluc had heard enough dying breaths to know the signs, but your fingers were so strongly interwoven with the fabric around his body that he knew it couldn't be. You were holding on to him as you were losing yourself.

Just to be sure, he wrapped his arms tighter around you.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice breaking between the words as the situation finally realized in his mind. It was strange. You never faltered when you were angry, never stopped ignoring him, no matter how painful it was for him. And yet, you stopped abruptly, the mood snapping like a weak twig beneath his feet, touched him and held on for dear life. As if it was his fault, and yet, you let him reap the rewards.

It was everything he ever wanted.

Having you clutch to him, whatever the reason may be, and being able to hold you back without your palms shoved into his chest, your eyes filled with hatred as you told him to "back off". Have you rely on him, use him for comfort, and let him give you all the remnants of love he could still harbor in his heart that his past had burnt into a crisp. Something terrible was happening, and yet, as Diluc watched you deflate, resting on his lap like a lover rather than a prisoner, he was smiling for the first time in a long while.

"I can't," you whispered, your voice hoarse and damaged from yelling, too weak to speak up. "I can't do this anymore. I can't keep living like this, I'm... I'm tired."

For a moment, no one said anything, the silence so much more telling than any explanation could be. Yet, like an idiot, Diluc wished you'd speak up. Give him a verbal sign of what was going on—any, really.

And you did. Your head lowered to his chest as if it was too heavy to hold, your body sagging a bit more on his lap. Luckily, his arms were already there to catch you, his palms coming to rest across your back, steading you, the touch searing. For the first time in his life, he was afraid of burning off his own fingertips, and yet, he didn't move them away from you, unable to waste this moment. You might never let him touch you like this again. Hold you. Comfort you.

That's when it finally hit him.

It took him long enough, but perhaps you needed the time to come to terms with it, too. His heart lept while yours seemed to settle. Diluc was overcome with love and adoration while you banished the last forces of fight from your mind, sinking into exhaustion. It's been years and you only realized now that you lost a war that was never one to begin with. You've used up all your resources and burned through all your motivation. All that was left was an ashen battlefield, you and him.

It wasn't until many hours later that Diluc put you to bed, having held you through most of the night while you slept. The irking feeling that maybe it would be back to normal tomorrow didn't deter him from enjoying the peace he was starting to get addicted to. Brushing your hair out of your face and leaving a few kisses on your forehead, cheeks, and a brazen one on your lips, he admired your sleeping face, your brows furrowed but otherwise peaceful visage. 

Even if things were to change the next day, he was thankful for this wonderful night, wishing for it to never end, and yet he couldn't wait to see what more there was to come. Every day with you was just that special. Diluc didn't realize the loss that had happened. Unable to feel anything but gratitude for your change of attitude. 

And in a spur-of-the-moment decision, he shrugged off his coat and pushed off his boots, joining you by your side in the bed, something he never allowed himself to do. It felt right. Like the place he belonged. Resting his arms around you, he now knew how it could be, already getting addicted to the feeling of being close to you. 

Maybe you'd soon wake him up with another screaming and crying outburst, but that night had fueled him with enough love for you to keep going, even more sure now that what he did was the right thing. 

Diluc won that night, and his fire continued to burn through everything you held dear. Your pride, your freedom, your whole essence of being. Yet his fire just kept on spreading, rising, devouring everything, fueled by love that only seemed to keep coming the more you gave up.

Until you were completely engulfed in his flames, unable to ever distinguish them.

[angrykittybarbarian]

Things that bother me about Dragon Age: The Veilguard part 3 (final thoughts)

I have finally finished the playthrough. I endured because I wanted to give this game a fair chance. I wanted to see it from start to finish in the hopes it would deliver something, anything capable of redeeming it. But it just didn't. Or more precisely, not in a way sufficient to make its flaws easy to overlook. These are my closing impressions on the game. I have already done two posts about this in which I documented my observations and comments as I progressed. I will link the posts here: Part 1, Part 2.

Let's finish this ride for now.

!Spoilers below the cut!

The music

I don't know what the direction of the music was meant to take. When it was announced Hans Zimmer would compose the OST I had high hopes. Hans Zimmer is a houshold name in Hollywood and skilled at what he does. I listened to a number of movie OSTs of his making and they were all excellent. So what happened here?

The music sounds generic most of the time without a clear theme or a unique piece that got me searching for it on youtube.

The main theme has sort of a recognizable composition but isn't anything outstanding. Emmrich's theme sounds like a halloween piece written for Wednesdsy Adams and the rest of the OST seems to mimic Trevor Morris' work for DA:I, namely the Lost Temple and In Hushed Whispers themes, but without the emotional impact the original pieces created.

It's as someone has already pointed out and I agree: Bioware has bought the name Hans Zimmer but not his quality. It sounds like he didn't even seriously create something but half heartedly whipped something out of his sleeve and called it a day.

The facial animations

The main problem with these is they often don't fit the emotions the VAs are communicating.

The VAs actually did a fantastic job. The scene that touched me the most was the one Rook confronts Solas in after they escape the regret prison in the fade. That was the first time Rook felt involved, raw and real.

But what broke the atmosphere in an otherwise flawless scene was how unmoving their facial expression was. There was the VA shouting their lung out and the animation couldn't even give half a fuck about it.

I don't even see an excuse for this lack of facial animation. It was possible to do since DA:O, hell, even since the first Mass Effect back in '07. Why is it not possible in the year of our Lord 2024, when technology is presumably better?

The handholding of the player

The plot is tightly paced. This is not necessarily a bad thing as I didn't really like the Open World approach of DA:I since it stretched the main plot too thinly and the maps created weren't filled with interesting side content but boring and pointless fetch quests.

But Veilguard went into the opposide extreme as it leaves only little room for the player when and how to do things. The quests are activated and must be completed in a specific order. They have also only one outcome without room to make different decisions.

Rook can never be truly ruthless. They can never disagree and butt heads with their companions.

And I hate how on the side of the screen the game exactly tells you what you have done and how it affects your companions' behaviour. It doesn't bake it into the interaction organically. Instead it has yet again, explained to me what I did and why it has this very specific effect without any of the characters discussing it. But the beauty of consequential decisions lies in the very unpredictability of its outcome. That's what creates the emotional impact. It doesn't work if I am being warned and explained to like a small child.

It's this lack of trust the game puts into the intelligence of its players that is so experience breaking, insulting even. It doesn't trust its players to figure stuff out themselves. It assumes we are too stupid to get any of the things it tries to tell us.

The ting is though, dear Bioware writers, if you think you have to overexplain your story because you think your audience won't get it then that's a telltale sign of the story being actually badly written.

Another area where this becomes appearant are the "puzzles". I used the quotation marks because there isn't really anything to solve. The solutions are obvious and at times your companions go out of their way to tell you.

The romances

Romances have always been a nice bonus on top of the otherweise amazing game content. They added some enjoyable extra fluff purely for enjoyment and some cases even deepened the main storyline.

In Veilguard they don't do that. In almost all of them the flirting is so meaningless that your cutscene with them just proceeds as if nothing happened.

There is no shift or change to their tone towards Rook. You don't build up the relationship with them. There is no last goodbye kiss before the last mission or passionate affirmations of love and trust. It just leaves you cold.

The only romance that seems to have that old depth is Emmrich's. The rest however, they don't add anything significant. There virtually is no difference to the game without the romances.

Companion relationships

Let's begin here with the simple fact that all deeper interactions Rook has with the companions are strictly scripted which ties back into the handholding part of this criticism. Rook cannot initiate a conversation and ask them some general questions about their histories and opinions on certain matters.

Rook only gets to interact with them when they happen to want something from them. Otherwise they cannot be bothered to acknowledge Rook with more than a one sided oneliner.

And then there are the relationships between the companions themselves. They either get along swimmingly or the game feels the need to stage some immature conflict between them without any deeper purpose.

Like Harding not understanding why Emmrich brings so many books on the road despite it literally not being any of her damn business bevause it doesn't personally affect her in any way.

Or Taash not understanding his profession as a Mournwatcher as they call him names so Rook has to point out Taash in turn likes dragons which is an interest he doesn't share only to culminate the discussion with a "We need to respect our differences" sort of statement.

These are not conflicts, these are squabbles of children and like children Roik talks to them which is brought ad absurdum with Emmrich because he is literally old enough to be Rook's father.

Why bother at all with writing conflict if it is only to be something as inconsequential as this?

Varric's death

This one is a .... choice.

I won't go into why the decision to let him die or not is good or bad because I feel like this is highly subjective.

However the impact of the reveal of this fact is only partly executed well.

Why?

Because it only hits hard when the player has known and cared about Varric at least since DA:I if not DA 2. The execution of this plotpoint thus relies too heavily on nostalgia instead of building the tension up within its own setting.

When thinking about Bioware also wanting to be newcomer friendly with this game I am left to wonder then why they didn't introduce Varric properly and didn't give the players time to build up the relationship? Why would a new player care about Varric? They don't know him.

Bioware cannot in good conscience claim they designed the game to be new player friendly while simultaniously heavily relying on knowledge from previous games, dlcs, comics, novels and other spin-off media. They cannot claim this and have anything but DATV do the heavy lifting when it comes to executing their plot.

The final mission

For my final point I also want to lose some positive feedback about this game.

The ending was actually well written.

In relation to Solas it comes full circle. You can actually feel what's at stake and the decisions Rook makes actually matter.

The final questline roughly follows a Mass Effect 2 approach where it is classified as nothing short of a suicide mission.

Companion quests essentially function as loyalty missions and Rook gets to assign various posts in battle. Just like in Mass Effect 2 assigning a companion a post completely outside of their expertise may get them killed.

The dialogue is actually written well at this point in the game. There isn't really much to complain about.

But even this part is not entirely without faults.

For one I don't like the non negotiable sacrifice that has either to be made by Harding or Davrin. Rook doesn't even get a chance to save any of them. But again these non negotiable companion deaths where you only make the choice who's it's going to be isn't anything new (i.e. Hawke and whatever Warden you happen to get, Kaidan/Ashley in ME 1). So maybe a bit if a bummer but nothing experience breaking.

A stronger point however is that Rook will always keep the Veil intact in the end.

I suppose this outcome already is part of the game title itself but was it necessary to take it so literally?

With everything the elves have lost and the discrimination they faced it should absolutely have been an option to agree with Solas and tear the Veil down.

But since we don't talk about racism and slavery I guess Rook doesn't reflect on these points either. So I guess keeping the Veil intact is in line with the game's general sanitization of the world.

So in conclusion?

The game is far from great, not gonna lie. It feels like the devs actually wanted a new IP but were too afraid of the risks that come with such an endeavor and thought gutting an existing franchise that already did the heavy lifting of building a fanbase and using it as a package would save their ideas from flopping. Surely no one will notice it is actually something else if we market it as Dragon Age, right?

But we are not that stupid. This behaviour is insulting to put it plain and simple and I am heartbroken, angry and said that this was done to Dragon Age. I wanted to love this game. I was optimistic before the release. Everything looked fine, nothing in particular to worry about.

But I cannot continue to defend this without breaking my basic brain function.

The most frustrating part is that with the ending the devs showed they can write a story and meaningful dialogues. It left me wondering why it couldn't be done like this for the rest of the game and living with the reality that I will never get what this game could have been.

All in all this is not a good Dragon Age game. It is a massive disappointment and does not live up to the promises made by the devs.

I am sorry for everyone who preordered.

I am sorry for everyone who paid the full release price.

Nominating it for Game of the Year is not justified no mattee how you look at it.

If you are genuinely enjoying the game, I hope you continue to do so and all power to you.

For the rest: let's stop excusing Bioware's disrespect towards the fans and enabling them by paying them too much money for it.

Don't buy at release. Don't buy spin off media. Wait for sales. These people only understand the problem when you give them a good run for their money.

[actiniumwrites]

hiii ! I saw that your requests were open :) could I request a scenario with scaramouche and xiao. Where their lover is a super cheerful person, but someone makes fun of them and they get super protective. p.s I really like your writings ^^

𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔

synopsis: how they defend you, their cheerful lover, after hearing other people talk bad about you

characters: scaramouche, xiao x gn!reader (separately)

warnings: fluff, a pinch of angst, hurt/comfort, insults, physical violence (not toward reader), swearing, insecurity, xiao may be a little ooc

notes: thank you so much for the request, anon! these are a little short, but i did enjoy writing this. i also tried my hardest to capture the reader as very cheerful, but it was a little difficult to do without it being overbearingly cheerful, so i hope it turned out okay. and i’m very happy you enjoy my writing, it means so much to me <3

Scaramouche:

A trip around Sumeru City was not what Scaramouche had planned to do that day when he offered to spend time together — of course, he couldn’t admit that what he really wanted was to go on a proper date, but he settled for this nonetheless. As long as you’re happy, he thought.

All day you had been pulling him around to various little shops and sights around the city. Even though many of them had existed for many years, you felt as though they were hidden gems amongst all of Teyvat. And with both of you originally being from Inazuma, neither of you had really had the chance to experience all of Sumeru together.

Scaramouche didn’t mind it to be honest — you dragging him around, to be specific. As soon as he saw that stupid big smile on your face, any ounce of resentment for his inability to communicate what he wants drained from his body. Naturally, he still put on the mask of boredom, but with you being your excited self bouncing around the city, you hadn’t even noticed. So he dropped the act, and just let himself live for once.

Just before the sun was about to set and conclude the day’s fun, your hand quickly grabbed his as you dragged him over to a flower shop. When you had first arrived in Sumeru, the very first thing you ever took notice of was all the different plants and flowers. And ever since, you’ve tried to get flowers or other little plants whenever you can.

Scaramouche picked up his pace to match yours, although still dragging a bit behind, his hand held on tight to yours. But as soon as you arrived at the front of the shop, your hand moved to the flowers and away from him. Quietly, he moved to the side and watched as you admired the flowers.

“Wow, these are so beautiful! Did you grow them yourself?” you excitedly asked the man at the shop. There were an array of bright and colorful flowers in front of you, each one carefully tied among others to create stunning bouquets.

The man, who appeared to be the shop owner, furrowed his brows and gave you a light scoff, “Pfft, of course I did.”

To that, Scaramouche snapped his eyes over at the man who hadn’t seemed to pay him any mind. His arms crossed over one another as he eyed the man, not pleased with his attitude, but not saying anything just yet. As Nahida had taught him, he can’t just go around accusing everyone of having malicious intent. So for once, he would wait and see, maybe give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he was just having a bad day or something or didn’t mean to come across like that.

“Oh, Archons. Those vases are just as beautiful as the flowers. I saw some really pretty ones at another shop, but these are even better! You really have a good eye, sir!”

The man rolled his eyes and ignored your comment. Meanwhile, Scaramouche sent him a subtle glare from the other side of you. The guy was giving him a bad feeling that he just couldn’t seem to shake.

After a few more minutes of you pointing and beaming at different bouquets and individual flowers of all different kinds, compliments pouring out of you left and right, the man finally snapped.

“Would you just shut up already? I’ve had it up to here with how much you talk. You are so annoying, I mean my god, I get it! I have nice flowers and I’m a talented gardner, just pick some and go!” he yelled out, flaring his arms around the air.

“Screw what Nahida said,” Scaramouche grumbled.

In a split second, you were behind your boyfriend and his arm was held tightly onto the shop owner’s, “Are you done? Cause let me tell you, you have to be a real piece of shit to yell at someone who’s just excited about flowers.”

“Let me go, damn it!” He tried yanking back his arm, desperately trying to pull Scaramouche’s off of him. If only he had known he was messing with an ex-harbinger and a being created by a God.

Scaramouche spoke in a dangerously low tone, “You don’t get to talk to them like that, you hear me? Do it again, and I’ll ruin your fucking life.”

The man backed up quickly, hitting the side of his shop and falling backward. A few people stopped to snicker at him, but Scaramouche paid no mind. His hand slipped into yours and he eagerly pulled you away from the chaos.

He gagged and wiped the hand that grabbed the man against his shirt as the two of you walked to a quiet area, “People like that disgust me.”

You nodded quietly and sat down on the bench he had brought you to. His eyes filled concern for a brief moment before he blinked it away. Sighing, his hand squeezed yours and he nervously gulped, unprepared for situations that involved any form of comfort, “Are you…are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you spoke softly, not quite meaning it, “Thanks for sticking up for me back there.”

Gently, he pulled you into him, “Don’t listen to people like that, you hear me? The only annoying one out of the two of you was that ugly piece of shit. So don’t go all sad on me, okay? I mean it.”

Xiao:

“Hello, my love!” you loudly called out at The Inn, happily marching in to greet him on the upper floor. A few people on the deck below looked up quickly, startled by your bold introduction.

Xiao nodded at you, a small blush on his cheeks and small, “Hi.” Even after nearly a year of dating, you still managed to fluster him.

Your arm looped around his, pulling him closer to you. You sent him a bright smile and tilted your head toward his, “Are you ready for our lunch date?”

Xiao nodded and moved your hand off his arm and down to his hand where he softly clasped his fingers around your own.

When you arrived at Liyue Harbor, the two of you began walking to your favorite restaurant. It was really nice with all the outdoor seating that allowed the both of you to enjoy the fresh breeze from the ocean while you ate. It also allowed Xiao to be more comfortable instead of being cramped up inside some restaurant with a bunch of people he was unfamiliar with.

If Xiao was being honest, the restaurant itself still was not something he particularly enjoyed. Not because he disliked the service or the other people who ate there, but because he wasn’t a huge fan of their food being an adeptus and all. However, you raved about it all the time and got super happy whenever you got the chance to go, especially if it was with him. Xiao could never bring himself to say he didn’t enjoy it when it made you so happy.

“So, have you done anything super interesting lately?” you excitedly asked your boyfriend, eagerly awaiting his weekly stories.

“Not really. I went to the Chasm recently, but I was unable to find what I was seeking,” he answered and nodded at you, “What about you?”

“I went to this really cute tea shop the other day with Yun Jin! You know, my friend from the opera we saw last year? They had the cutest cups and the tea was so good. We should go together some day!”

Xiao smiled ever so slightly as you spoke, not even focused on the food on his plate, but instead entirely focused on you, “That sounds nice.”

You went back and forth for around thirty more minutes, updating each other on the week, laughing about silly jokes you heard from Hu Tao, and talking about some future plans. Xiao had barely touched his food, but you hadn’t noticed with how caught up with him you were.

Nor had you noticed the snickering behind you.

“Oh my god, is that the Yaksha?”

“I think it is!”

“Woah he’s kinda hot, what’s he doing with a person like that?”

“I know right!”

It was hard for Xiao not to hear them, and he really wished he hadn’t. Of course he wanted to defend his relationship, but he always hated how people seemed to stare at the two of you.

Polar opposites.

To be clear, you were not the one that made him feel insecure, but rather the thoughts in his head. Xiao already had such a hard time believing someone like you could even like someone like him. You were so happy and cheerful and brought the best out in him. Xiao didn’t feel like he deserved you at all, not when he is the way he is.

Insecurity and all, it didn’t stop him from glaring past your shoulder. The more they talked, the worse he heard about you. It was like all they could talk about was your personality and how much it seemed like you didn’t deserve him. How you “couldn’t seem to shut up,” or “wipe the smile off your face.” Or that you “probably had to pay him to date someone like you.”

Xiao was already seething, but what set him off the most was when one of them made a comment about wanting to physically hurt you to take your smile away.

“Xiao?” You shot up out of your seat when he suddenly teleported away from you. When you turned around, you found him at the table behind you.

His hands were grabbing a guy by his shirt collar, holding him up into the air until he began to choke, “Shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”

The guy rapidly nodded up and down. Meanwhile, the two girls at the same table were gawking at the scene in front of them until one of them began yelling for Xiao to put the guy down.

“Stop it! You’re hurting him!” She screamed out.

“You said you wanted to hurt my partner. I am only returning the favor,” he said calmly before slamming the guy to the floor and walking to the girls behind him, “leave before I do something worse.”

Your jaw dropped as you watched the scene play out in front of you. Within seconds, the three of them had scrambled away. Xiao walked back over calmly and sat down. You were still stood up in your seat, confused at what had just occurred, “What the hell was that!”

“They were not saying nice things about you.”

Your eyes widened. You were happy he had defended you, but concerned for the consequences that could follow, “You can’t just go beating up random people like that, you could get in trouble!”

“That does not concern me. Any one that says anything bad about you does not deserve to be in your presence.”

“Xiao…” your voice softened, unable to think of anything to say. You knew he was protective, but it was rare for you to see that side of him up close and in person.

His hand gestured to the table, “Now please sit. I would like to hear more about your week.”

[klemen-tine]

Glass Bones and Paper Skin Part 2

Platonic! Bruce x Model! GN! Reader

First Part

Part 3

Trigger Warnings: Hint at suicide, Body Issues, Eating problems (not a disorder), Child Neglect, stalking

This is more of the family side than it is of Bruce. Next part will be everyone.

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

“Young Master Y/N, what a pleasant surprise.” Y/N smiled at Alfred, opening their arms and sagging in relief once they hugged the butler. The three hour car ride had been tense, with everyone asking questions and Y/N trying their hardest to be polite while not losing it. The fashion show still fresh in their mind, and the clothing Francesca had given them was gently folded and placed in the trunk of the car. 

“It is good to see you, Alfred. It’s been too long.” The old man huffed, “Indeed. A year of only phone calls and cards does make it seem like it was a century ago since I last saw your face… in person.” Y/N smiled, giving Alfred a playful look before remembering where they are and how they got here. 

The smile on their face became practiced, expression smoothening out as they turned to face the rest of the family who were all waiting patiently. Dick was smiling brightly, unraveling his scarf and walking forward, “Hey Alfie, you should have seen our Y/N walk. They really made the show.” 

“I find it insulting they made you walk last,” Damian chimed and crossed his arms. Y/N gave him a small smile, “Being a closer is as much of a compliment as being the opener.” The young boy scrunched his nose, “I preferred the show in Paris.” 

“Francesca Gabbana designed the piece, Alfred you’ll have to see it.” Tim was the one carrying the case that had the piece in it. The old man hummed, “I saw it on the television, but perhaps seeing it in person will be better.” Jason shrugged, walking in and gently nudging Y/N with his larger shoulders, “Although, did she have to make the Bat symbol just the front piece? It barely covered anything.” Y/N could see his jaw clench like the very thought of other people seeing Y/N’s stomach. 

Bruce was the last to walk in, shrugging off his coat and hanging it over his arm, “Fashion designers do not care about function, only beauty.” Y/N smiled tensely, “It is a form of art.” The older man smiled at Y/N, and the model couldn’t get rid of the image of the Bruce they saw backstage. 

“Of course it is. One of the most demanding forms of art as well.” Y/N couldn’t place the tone, but there was a sudden shift in the atmosphere. Alfred shuffled, “Well, dinner is almost ready. Young Master Y/N, if you want you can wash up in one of the guest bathrooms. Your room is currently being used as a trophy room.” Y/N chuckled, “Oh dear, you’re not hanging up my photos are you?” 

“I did tell you I would be.” Y/N shook their head, “Thanks Alfred, but I don’t have any clothes here.” An arm swung around their shoulder, and Y/N stiffened under the sudden touch. Jason was smiling at them, “C’mon Y/N, we have some clothes for you.” Y/N felt the sudden spike again in their spine, alerting them that something was amiss and only bad things would happen if they asked questions. From how everyone was looking at them, Y/N specifically, it was like they were waiting for Y/N to ask. Impatiently waiting for that landmine to explode in front of them. 

“How kind of you, I wasn’t expecting that.” Y/N jumped over it. 

“Of course! How could we not have clothes ready for when our younger sibling comes home. Even though it’s been almost three years, I hope everything still fits right.” Just to land on another landmine. Y/N kept the smile on, years of being talked down to by photographers have helped them create the perfect mask of politeness. 

“So, which bathroom in which guest room?” Tim stepped forward and gently guided Y/N out from under Jason’s arm and further into the manor. Y/N stayed half a step behind, taking in the gothic manor and the decorations littering the hallway. 

Out of all the siblings, Y/N is closest with Tim. Not really siblings, and not really even friends, but if his relationship could be described as a length rope attached to each person, Tim’s would be the second shortest. Right after Alfred. They are close in age, and Tim was the first one to comment on Y/N’s photo when Y/N had first started modeling. 

It was only once, and it may have been in passing, but Y/N had held that interaction close to their heart. The first and last comment from a sibling about their modeling. An acknowledgement of sorts, that made Y/N momentarily believe that they were noticeable, only for that to be squished that same day. 

“You’re photo in the Cosmetology magazine, it looks really good. Red suits you.” 

The way that color looked on Y/N was the same as how a red rose looked on a green stem; like it was always meant to be. Y/N has seen the comparisons between them and their mother. M/N L/N was a beautiful woman, with large eyes and pouty lips, the very definition of innocence. A puppy-dog look that fit so naturally on her face. 

A white rose. 

While Y/N had a more sultry tone, a more powerful presence, one that demanded attention. 

A red rose. Not so innocent, or pure, but who can be when you see your own mother dead in the bathtub. Drug allegations and the loss of her popularity caused her downfall, and she loved her popularity more than she loved her child. Y/N finds it hard to blame her, because after they have gotten a taste of what beauty can get them, they can see why their mother got addicted to the camera flashes. 

The assurance that yes, they are beautiful. They are beautiful and worthy of the cameras. 

But with every camera flash, is a terrible comment. A terrible blog, highlighting their faults and insecurities. Someone dissecting every motion they made, every microexpression, ever comment. 

“Here you are, Y/N.” Y/N’s attention snapped back and sure enough they were in front of the door. Tim waited patiently for Y/N to enter, “Thank you, Tim.” The young man shrugged, “Sure. Clothes can be found in the dresser and shoes in the closet.” Y/N nodded, waiting for the other to leave. Instead Tim turned around and faced Y/N, waiting for the other with a raised brow, “You’re not going to ask about the clothes?” 

Y/N gulped, “I feel like if I ask, I won’t like the answer. I’d rather live in ignorance for now.” They walked past Tim, opening and closing the door, but before they saw Tim grin and a smile played out on his lips, “Smart.” 

They locked the door, and when they turned around Y/N nearly collapsed. They pressed their back into the door as they stared at the room in mild terror. Their room from their condo, fully paid off condo, was present in front of Y/N. The same color palette, the same furniture, hell even the bookshelves are the same. Gulping, Y/N walked further in and when they opened the dresser, their jaw clenched and fingers shook. 

The exact same clothes. 

The bathroom was their saving grace, or so they thought. It didn’t look like their bathroom in the condo, save for the same colored towels. That was until they opened the shower and saw full bottles of the same brand soap, shampoo, conditioner, masks, everything. 

“Just like home. It is just like home, Y/N. Only in the Manor.” They mumbled to themselves, stripping in front of the shower stall and jumping in and not even waiting for the water to get hot. They wanted in and out as quickly as possible. Washing their hair, their body, and not even bothering to do the usual masks and scrubs. 

Jumping out, they quickly towel dried themselves and threw on the robe that was so familiar. 

“Routine… keep to the routine…” Body lotion, while the skin is still damp so it can absorb into the skin better, followed by an oil. For the face it was a double cleanse, first an oil based then water-based, followed by toner, retinol, serums, hyaluronic acid, moisturizer, and face oil. Teeth will be after the meal, but hair… 

“Moisturizer, blow dry, and then oil.” Y/N continued to mutter, trying desperately to not go crazy as the familiar brands flashed across their face and they had to use it like normal. They had too. Cause if they don’t, then Y/N knows that they will go crazy. 

They don’t bother to look in the dresser again, already on the verge of having a nervous breakdown, and instead they opted to flop onto the bed. Y/N buried their face in the pillow, and tried to not think about anything. They tried to force their mind blank, just how they did on the runway. 

“Y/N, are you ready?” Only it wasn’t working. Sitting up, Y/N stared at the door and contemplated answering. The carefully crafted facade was cracking and Y/N doesn’t know if they can keep the mask on any longer. From the multiple shows this week, to the shows earlier today, then this, the mask had outworn its use and now it is slowly begging to be taken off. 

“One minute please.” Only they can’t. Not here. Definitely not here. 

Peeling themselves off of the bed, Y/N stripped out of the robe and grabbed the first shirt they saw, underwear, and jeans. Their house slippers were right next to the dresser, and Y/N wanted to cry. All of it was getting too much and they're not sure how much longer they can be doing this. 

Opening the door, Dick and Jason were the ones waiting for them. Dick grinned, “How insulting of you to look so great in only jeans and a crew neck, making the rest of us look like toads.” Y/N chuckled, closing the door behind them, “I am a model, its my job to look good in every style of clothing.” 

Dick laughed, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulder he pulled the other close. Close enough that Y/N could smell the detergent used on Dick’s clothes, and body heat radiating off of the other. They started walking, Jason keeping silent while Dick chatted to Y/N, catching the other up on the past year. 

“There are more to the family now, but they won’t be at dinner today. Cass is with Steph, Duke is studying, and Barbara has dinner with her own family to join.” Y/N nodded, ignoring the small sting that others can be welcomed in while they couldn’t be. Instead, they kept the conversation polite, “How nice! It must be worthwhile to have so many people here.” Dick grinned, and there was a type of sharpness to it that had Y/N squirming. 

“Yeah, but it was never really a full house because not everyone was here.” A jab at Y/N, who muscled through it, “Well, modeling is a travel-heavy job. There was no time to come back.” The brothers stayed quiet, leading Y/N to the dining room table where everything and everyone was sitting and waiting patiently. 

Bruce caught their eyes, and motioned for them to sit at the empty seat next to him, Tim on the other side. Y/N walked over, and took the seat graciously, trying to ignore the weight in their stomach that was making their throat close. Alfred emerged, and like the true butler he was, he began setting their plates in front of them. Perfectly made and being presented beautifully on the white ceramic plates with gold leaf designs. 

Their favorite meal, one that always had Y/N running down the stairs when Alfred would announce his plans to make it, sat perfectly in the center of the plate. Its been so long since Y/N had it, no one quite makes it like Alfred does, and plus its just not really in Y/N’s diet. 

But Alfred made it. Alfred put his time and effort into making it, and Y/N is not going to spit on that. Once everyone had their plate, the dinner table became loud with chatter. Just like hoow it used to be. Dick would carry the conversation for the entire table, Jason would make sarcastic remarks, Tim intelligent ones, Damian’s would be snide, and Bruce would look exhausted the entire time. However, he still partook in them, letting his kids have the family moment of conversing with their parental figure. Smiling and chuckling as he did so, Bruce tried to be that good father figure. 

And Y/N just sits there. They eat quietly and think about their next photo shoot, the next trends that they need to hop on, the workout routine they need to adhere by. Questions do not get thrown their way– 

“Now that fashion season is over, what are your plans Y/N?” E/C eyes blink owlishly, staring at Dick in wonder as all eyes focus on them. 

“Oh, uh, um, well its normally rest season for us, but I have plans to schedule a few photoshoots, commercials, and I know Maya has been talking about me becoming a brand ambassador.” Y/N wants to keep the momentum. Y/N wants to be kept busy to get and stay away from here. 

“You’re not going to rest?” Jason questioned, raising a brow and Y/N shrugged, “I plan to take a few weeks off, but modeling doesn’t really have a set time.” It isn’t a 9-5 job, or vigilante job. Y/N will have to make public appearances, showing up to Galas, grand openings, other fashion shows, fashion shoots, and a lot of traveling. 

Bruce hummed, “Sounds like you’re running yourself thin.” Y/N gulped, “It sounds like a lot, but most of it is traveling and getting ready. Besides, I like being busy.” In high school, Y/N would go from school the the modeling agency where they would schedule photo shoots and commercials. Then it would be meeting with dieticians, personal trainers, estheticians, and then more meeting for future goals. The next steps. 

Y/N was always busy, but so was their mother and she managed. She was a single mother and a high end fashion model. If she can do it, then there is no reason Y/N can’t. 

“But there are other stuff right? Like you need to get facials to make sure your skin looks nice, and working out,” Damian chimed in, and Y/N blinked in surprise at the youngest contributing to the conversation. They smiled, “That’s not really tiring, it’s just time consuming.” 

Alfred walked back into the dining room, a dessert platter in his hands, “Then it is good you will be resting here. Take a few days to enjoy being free.” A cheesecake was set down in front of Y/N, and Alfred pointedly stared at the half eaten meal. He gave Y/N a raised brow, and while the model would normally smile and reassure the man that they would eat later, their face was full of shock, “What do you mean a ‘few days?’” 

Bruce wiped the corner of his lips with a napkin, “A few days. Rest here for a few days, it’ll be good for you and for everyone else.” Y/N gulped, “Why is it good for everyone else if I stay?” 

“Of course it’s good for us. Family sticks together obviously, and with you running off, it really sent things haywire.” There it was again. The phrase ‘running off’ as if it was something Y/N actually did. They smiled, “You’re sounding like Tim. I did not run off, I moved out.” Bruce’s brow furrowed, “ ‘Moved out,’ huh. I didn’t realize moving out meant leaving without so much as a goodbye.” 

“The things you left behind, you scheduled people to grab them and throw them out. Alfred was the one to stop them from touching your room,” Dick stated. Those blue eyes keep Y/N locked in their seat. The smile on the oldest sibling’s face was anything but kind, “It’s like you wanted to erase yourself from this manor. You left behind almost nothing that would trace you to us.” 

“Not a number to call. We had to get it from Alfred,” Jason chimed, taking a bite of the chocolate mousse cake. 

“Or a letter explaining where you went.” Damian took a sip of the tea. 

“Or an address.” Tim gulped his cup of coffee, all of them watching Y/N. They way their sibling’s shoulders tensed and that fake smile became more and more downturned. Bruce spoke once more, “It seems like you don’t even want to be a Wayne. Taking your mother’s last name despite the controversies.” 

Y/N’s smile turned bitter, “I took her last name because Wayne is more influential and I wanted to start with as little influence as possible. Plus, legally my last name is still L/N.” Bruce met Y/N’s gaze, “And look how many speculations you got for drug use.” 

“...Since when did you read gossip?” 

“The moment my kid’s photo is attached to that piece of gossip.” Y/N is still aware of all the blogs accusing them of drug-use, the same blogs that accused M/N. People using her photos to compare their features and just cause more drama. 

Y/N took a bite of the cheesecake, and the tension at the table was thick. Usually it was between Dick and Bruce, or Jason and Bruce. Never between Y/N though. Although, Y/N never spoke at the table so maybe that is why they were arguing? Can this even be considered an argument? 

Alfred cleared his throat, “While talking is appreciated, arguments stay away from the dinner table.” So it was an argument. Y/N apologized to the man and took another bite of the cheesecake. Their mind filled with the workout they are going to have to do to burn this off. 

++++

Alfred watched the child he considered a grandchild drink their tea, brewed in the darkness of the kitchen and now sitting at the dinner table again. While a year may not seem long, for Alfred it was. Y/N, who had been there for half a decade, had been glued to Alfred’s side. The man always taking the teen to and from school, and then sometimes to their gigs. 

It was Alfred that took Y/N to their first audition to be a model, and it seems like it was only a few days before he received a call from a woman claiming to be M/N L/N’s manager, and while she may not be Y/N’s manager, her daughter will be. Alfred liked Maya. The young woman always let him know of Y/N’s gigs, she would pick the young teen up and drop him off, and she tried to be as helpful as she could. Maya was a woman born to manage models and their busy and demanding schedules. 

What Alfred didn’t like, was that Maya still had the old school model critiques. Alfred gaped at the woman when she handed him a list of diets for Y/N to ‘lose weight.’ A 15 year old Y/N, who was already slender, now being told they had to be skinny but toned. A child being told that ice cream was no longer an option, and their favorite burgers were banned. 

He furrowed at the training regime, wondering how agencies can expect a teenager to be toned like their already full adult models. Nonstop cardio, ab workouts, and toning exercises. Then strut practice, because if Y/N was M/N’s child, then they were made for the runway. Born to walk in front of cameras and audiences. 

“If Y/N wants to be a model, then sacrifices have to be made,” Was Maya’s response to Alfred's inquiries. She assured him that Y/N would still be eating, and she encouraged Y/N to eat, but now those meals were restricted to certain foods. 

Alfred watched as Y/N struggled at first, their own plate different from the others, and how the blisters on their toes and heels bled through their socks and bandaids. The old man watched as the training and strut practice became an everyday routine. Y/N walked on the wobbling plyboard, barely wide enough for one foot, and the amount of times they fell off of it. The books stacked on their head for good posture and balance, followed by walking on an incline in those uncomfortable shoes, then training the muscles to the point of exhaustion. 

He had watched the child-like baby fat on Y/N’s cheeks melt off and expose cheekbones that looked tight against the skin. Y/N still looked beautiful, not more or less, but Alfred could see the exhaustion in those young eyes and how Y/N juggles modeling and being a student. 

Y/N didn’t even go to their high school graduation, choosing instead to head to Paris for their first ever abroad photoshoot. That kickstarted the traveling and runway model career. Once Y/N got their highschool diploma, they were out the door and becoming busier and busier. 

“I see you still drink onion skin tea so late at night.” Y/N smiled up at Alfred, “Of course. I was shocked to see that you still keep the skins.” The older man sat across from Y/N, nursing his own cup of tea “Of course. In case you ever visited, I thought it would be great to have some in stock.” Y/N gave Alfred a ‘really?’ look, continuing to sip on the still hot tea.

“I saw the piece you wore today,” Alfred started the conversation. 

“It truly is a beautiful piece of work.” Y/N’s jaw clenched, “Did you know about-” Y/N waved a hand in the air, “- about Bruce calling to commission a piece?” The old man took a sip of the earl gray. Y/N shook their head, unable to be upset, “Alfred, a call about that would have been appreciated.” 

“An address would also be appreciated but seeing as you have withheld that information, I saw no harm in sharing Master Bruce’s commission.” Y/N deflated, rubbing their forehead with their fingers, “Alfie-” 

“You only use that name when you know you’re about to be in trouble, so you might as well just say it, Young Master Y/N.” Y/N’s cheeks blushed and their lips pouted, “Alfie, I told you that the reason I didn’t tell you my address is because I am always traveling. I’d feel awful if you showed up and I wasn’t there.” 

“There’s a wonderful contraption called a cellphone, Young Master Y/N. I would call before making that trek over.” Y/N groaned, setting his cup down and trying not to crumble in front of the grandfather figure. Answering to Alfred was always harder than answering to Bruce. 

“Alfie–” 

“Young Master Y/N, I understand your hesitancy is sharing in your life with others. Life was lonely here, and I understand wanting to forget that. However, having only a number to call you is terrifying. What if something happens and I cannot help you?” Y/N gazed sadly at Alfred, “Life wasn’t lonely, Alfie. I had you, right?” 

Alfred Pennyworth, Y/N’s saving grace and lifeline. The person who is proof that Y/N was not alone in the Wayne Manor. The butler always willing to lend an ear when Y/N vented their frustrations, and when tears escaped their E/C eyes. He is Y/N’s biggest supporter. Always buying a magazine that had Y/N in it, and he would listen to Y/N critique the pose and the facial expression. Then he would give Y/N a slice of cheesecake and compliment Y/N, in both the photo and in person. 

Always reassuring the other that a cheat day will not set him back, and rest is what the body needs the most. Reassuring Y/N that their mother would be proud, that Bruce notices them, and that Y/N’s siblings do in fact love them. 

“Besides, why would you even want to visit? My place wouldn’t be as grand as this–” 

“It would be to make sure your fridge is stocked and that you are eating. You have always been the worst when it comes to eating, and I worry that your fridge and pantry are empty.” Alfred doesn’t have to guess that Y/N’s fridge is empty, because he knows it is. 

He knows that Y/N’s fridge is empty besides some drinks, and that the pantry is only snacks. While Y/N may have the excuse of being gone for so long, traveling and whatnot, Alfred knows that Y/N does not spend a lot of money on food. Y/N spends more money on clothes, jewlery, facial and hair care products, than they do on groceries. 

Y/N doesn’t even look ashamed. Nervous, yeah, but not ashamed. They sip their tea without making eye contact. Time to change the subject. 

“Why is Bruce, and all the boys, all of a sudden interested in what I do?” Alfred didn’t Y/N out on the obvious change in conversation, but he let it slide. The old man sighed, “Why would a parent not be interested in what their child is doing?” 

“Alfred.” 

“Young Master Y/N, you have worked tirelessly to get to the position you are now. With no help from the family, you had spent your late mother’s money to audition, then to pay your managers, and now you are making it big within the industry. Is it wrong for a parent to congratulate their child?” Y/N bit their  lip, “So its because I’m finally someone now? Was I not worth attention because I chose not to be Robin?” 

“Young Master Y/N–” 

“I don’t care about that. Like I told Bruce, it wasn’t abuse or anything, he just simply didn’t have time for me and that’s fine. I’m not mad about that.” Alfred watched Y/N get worked up, and E/C begin to shift in nervousness, “What I am talking about is why did Bruce pay off my Condo, and why does he have access to my bank account?” 

Silence fell across the table. Y/N staring at Alfred expectantly, while the butler finished his tea. Once done, he grabbed his and Y/N’s tea cup and headed towards the kitchen. 

“Perhaps, that is a Master Bruce question.” Y/N made a sound of annoyance, throwing themselves back into the chair and scrunching their nose. Standing up from the table, Y/N said goodnight to Alfred, and proceeded up that stairs and into dark hallways. Y/N wasn’t ready to go back to the guest room, feeling their heart rate spike whenever they thought of the replicated room. 

Instead, they walked down familiar halls towards a room-now-turned-trophy room. They reached for the doorknob, but found themselves unable to open it. Y/N didn’t want to see all the photos Alfred had kept throughout the years. Rather, what caught Y/N’s attention was the lacking of doors in the hallway. There used to be two more doors on their left, but instead there was now one. The area where the second door was, was perfectly sealed and now blended into the wall. 

Y/N took a deep breath, and opened the door. They used to be guest rooms as well. The two rooms had queen-sized beds and armoires for the unexpected guests that popped up. Y/N’s room used to be a guest-room, but they ended up liking the privacy because no one else’s room was around their’s. In fact, it was the guest room across from Y/N’s room that they had turned into the practice room, seeing that no one came down this hallway. 

However, clearly people were not because of the renovation done. 

When the door opened, Y/N sought out the light switch. The room was pitch black, and the last thing Y/N wanted to do was trip over something. Feeling around the wall, Y/N rejoiced when they felt the familiar switch and flicked it on. Once the bright light filled the room, Y/N took a deep breath. They were expecting a game room, or an indoor swimming people because that seems like something a rich person would do. Turning two guest rooms into a pool despite it being on the second floor. 

Something not exactly normal, but expected. 

Y/N didn’t expect this. Gone was the wall that separated the two bedrooms, making it one long room, and all the furniture was absent. No more beds, armoires, and it looks like even the bathrooms were gutted and turned into part of the room. All the tables, rugs, sofas, everything that was once in those rooms, were now gone besides the chandeliers that hung on the ceiling. Filling the room with a bright light, that didn’t fit the manor aesthetic at all, and illuminating everything that was in the room. 

While the furniture was gone, the room was not empty. Mannequins lined the walls, on their own podiums and glass cases. While seeing them bare would have been scary, seeing them dressed in the clothes that Y/N had worn on the runways was more terrifying. Y/N, in the runway season alone, walked 86 shows. That is the runways season alone, not including the other smaller shows they have done since graduating high school almost a year ago. 

These weren’t all of the clothes they have worn, there was still a large amount and they were the most iconic pieces. Pieces that a designer would never want to give someone. 

Y/N walked further in, taking in the first mannequin on the right, and they noted that the mannequin looked eerily similar to Y/N. Only missing the facial features and hair, but it looked like the proportions were almost spot on. 

The plastic doll had on the outfit from a runway show earlier in the year, when Y/N walked for Versace. A simple long blazer with deep V cut, stopping mid-thighs where only an inch of skin was shown before thigh boots bedazzled in gold, diamonds, emeralds, and other precious jewels took over the rest of the legs. The earrings they wore were poked into the mannequin's own ears and the bracelets hung off the dainty wrists. In the glass case, next to the mannequin, was the photo taken of Y/N when they were walking. 

The next case was a piece they wore when walking for a newer fashion-designer, one that Y/N did for free just to get to their name out there, and the piece was a gorgeous suit, dyed a beautiful vermillion red that had the slighted shimmer of gold in it. Y/N’s runway photo was once again next to the mannequin. 

The entire room was full of these iconic runway looks, with Y/N’s photo right next to them, and they surrounded all sides of the room and some of them in the middle. Almost like an art gallery of sorts, and Y/N looked at every single one of them. Not in amazement or judgment, but more of horror. 

Y/N knows some of these fashion designers. They have known some of them since they were a child and watching their mom get fitted by these exact same designers. No matter how much she begged, they would never let her take one of their creations home. These clothes were meant to be either safe-guarded in a museum, in their own collection, or in some cases bought by a celebrity and worn to an award ceremony as advertisement. 

In other words, Y/N knows that some of these designers would rather gnaw off an arm then give away their precious creations. Yet, here some of those precious creations were, hanging on the mannequin shaped like the model. 

In the center of the room, like it was the main show, was the Batman-inspired piece. All that was missing was the photo, which wouldn’t be published for another few weeks. 

Taking a deep breath, they stared at the reflection in the gold-plated bat. They were trying to process all of this. It’s one thing to have photos, because Y/N is a model and photos are expected, but to have the actual clothes they wore. Clothes that Y/N knows the designers would kill for, dressed on mannequins that looked almost exactly like Y/N was another thing.

Y/N backed out of the room, turning the lights off and shutting the door silently. They stared at their own door, sweat beginning to break out on their forehead, and they went against their instincts and opened that door. 

A trophy room, Alfred had said. The walls are decorated in their photos, and the bed is still as immaculate as the day they left. Turning the lights on, Y/N couldn’t help but to smile as the time capsule in front of them. From their very first photoshoot, when Y/N was a gangly 15-year-old with still chubby cheeks, to the most recent photoshoot of a now 18 almost 19-year-old Y/N. Their confidence can be seen in their pose and gaze, something their younger self lacked. 

Y/N walked closer to the walls and looked at all the different photos. Some candid, some posed, some in the water, and there’s one where they are in Greece. Some had Y/N fully clothed with barely and inch of skin, and some were of Y/N with barely an inch of clothes. From makeup, to shoes, to perfume, to clothes, Y/N’s photo was pinned on the wall or framed. 

A photo caught their attention though. It wasn’t one from a website, or a magazine, but an actual photo. Y/N looked closer, and they recognized the set from when they were 16-years-old posing for an editorial magazine. 

However, the angle in which this photo was taken from, Y/N knows there were no cameras there. All the cameras were in front or on the side, not behind. Another photo caught their eyes, and it was the same thing. A photo from behind. 

Once they started looking for them, Y/N could begin to spot them all. Photos that they know no photographer took. There was one that had their blood chilling and fear rising in their chest. It was a photo, taken at night and through one of the windows in Y/N’s condo. Y/N had one wall in the living room that was basically all windows, letting in the morning sun and led out onto the gated terrace. It was high enough that they had no neighbors that could look through those windows. 

In the photo, Y/N was wearing their pajamas and their hair still looked wet. They were sitting on the counter of the island in their kitchen, eating raspberries and watching Youtube on their TV. It was such a close photo, close enough that the reflection can be seen in the glass. 

Y/N recognizes the blue and black, and when Y/N’s eyes drifted to another photo of them in their home, bile rose into their throats. The morning sun illuminated the warm neutral color palette in the living room, and Y/N was out on the terrace sitting at the patio table they had set up out there drinking a cup of coffee and reading a book. They had their shirt off, exposing ribs pulled tightly against skin and abs that remained toned even when Y/N wasn’t flexing. The shorts they had on exposing soft skin and pedicured feet, their slipped laid forgotten under the chair they were sitting in. 

They recognize that book. It was a book they read in the height of summer, meaning that this photo was taken half a year ago, when it was okay to sit outside in the warm summer mornings and let the skin begin to circulate. 

What chilled Y/N even more was that whoever took this photo was on their terrace with them. They were on Y/N’s terrace, and Y/N didn’t even know. The Wayne family has known Y/N’s address the entire time. They knew where Y/N was staying, they knew Y/N’s photoshoot schedules, and they knew Y/N better than Y/N thought they did. 

“I didn’t think you’d come in here.” Y/N’s head whipped around and there was Dick, or Nightwing, still in costume and smiling at them. 

“The hell is this?” Y/N held up the photo of them on the terrace, and Dick shrugged, “I’ll admit, those photos we took. But we didn’t take the other ones.” 

“What other ones?” “The ones of you at the photoshoots. I know you saw them, but we didn’t take those.” Y/N glared at Dick, and pushed themselves close to the wall as Dick walked in. Damian was right behind him. The oldest brother walked to the photo that originally caught Y/N’s attention, “You had a stalker, can you believe that? He took hundreds of photos of you, and all we did was make him stop.” 

Y/N’s lips pursed, “How do I know you’re not lying?” Dick unpinned the photo, and with Damian’s help, trapped Y/N against the wall next to the photo of them outside. He held up the photo, “Because, Y/N, as you can see we prefer more… candid photos then staged.” 

Y/N snapped, “There is nothing candid about that photo! That is an invasion of privacy! Trespassing! So is that one!” They pointed to one of them sitting on the counter. Damian grabbed their arm, and Y/N wanted nothing more than to shove the kid off. 

“And so is that one.” Dick pointed to one of Y/N wearing only a large shirt, a towel around their shoulders as they walked into their kitchen. 

“And that one.” 

“And that one.” 

“That one there.” 

“There’s that one too.” Y/N looked at all the photos, hidden next to the magazine photos, and they were all of them in their home. Horror morphed on Y/N’s face when there was one photo of Y/N in the bedroom, in the midst of taking their shirt off. 

Dick continued to smile, and Y/N could see Jason and Tim peeking in from the doorway. 

“You did a lot on your own, Y/N. You built a name for yourself, became a highly sought after model, it really is amazing.” Dick walked closer, “But you know what all of those photos have in common?” Y/N stared into blue eyes, terror swimming in those E/C eyes of theirs. 

“You aren’t even aware of your photo being taken.” The truth unsettled Y/N enough to try and squirm out of Damian’s grip and to get away from Dick. They didn’t need to be pointed out. Y/N is aware that in every photo taken without their permission, they were not once aware of it. Even when they looked like they would be only a few feet away, Y/N not once looked bothered. Y/N doesn’t even remember that feeling of being watched. 

Tim and Jason stepped in the room, making it seem crowded and even if Y/N got out of Damian’s grip, there was no way they were getting past all of them. 

Large hands gripped Y/N’s forearms, feeling like they would bruise the skin if Y/N struggled. 

“So tell your big brother Y/N, how do you expect us to trust you on your own when you can’t even notice someone on your terrace?” 

________________________________________________________

Part 3 is coming soon....

[sunsbleeding]

So what?you are not Mozart, you are not Van Gogh, and you sure as hell are not Stanley Kubrick, so what?! You are human aren’t you, with that little solider of a heart you got, forcing blood into every avenue of your very real, very alive body, you have a brain, you have hands and feet, and even if you don’t make a masterpiece your still creating something from nothing. Don’t you understand that… that is what Gods do, the act of creating, of putting something forth into this sublime and somber world, that is art, being human is being an artist, being an animal is being an artist, bird nests and beaver dams, even if its chicken scratch in the margins of your notes in chemistry, even if it’s a shitty painting you made and never showed anyone, or a song that’s good but it will never be heard on the radio like you wish it would when you stare at the ceiling at night.

The point is you don’t need to make masterpieces and magnum opus’s to call your self an artist. Yeah my art IS simple, say it like an insult, I don’t care anymore…it IS simple but it means something to me, and I know it means something to others. Simplicity doesn’t equal bad, some of the most beautiful art is the simple stuff, something that coveys a universal feeling without a thousand words or a thousand brush strokes, and I know there are a thousand painters more technically trained than I am, but I’m making things, and I know you are making things, and you can call them whatever you want, I’m an artist and so are you, so start acting like it and stop letting the world define who or what you are just because your not the very best at what you do. You were born to make things, music, dance, paintings, poetry, knitting, so go forth and create who cares if anyone likes it, you brought something to life, that is magic.

[softonshanks]

Hi!

Your fic about Sanji was amazing, which is why I’m here with another request 😊

How do you think Zoro and Sanji (separately) would change and behave in a relationship? 💖

Hey, thank you so so much! Sorry if this one took time, I thought it through! Hope you like it (: Zoro

Zoro is notoriously independent, and getting into a relationship doesn’t change that overnight. At first, he struggles with understanding the subtle nuances of being with someone—he’s used to relying on himself and chasing his goal of becoming the world’s greatest swordsman. But, slowly, he starts to realize that having someone who truly cares for him doesn’t weaken him; it actually strengthens his resolve.

He won’t be the type to express his feelings through long, romantic speeches. Instead, Zoro shows his love through quiet acts of devotion. He sharpens his partner’s blades if they’re a swordsman too, or he makes sure they always have food when they’re training or recovering from a fight. He won’t say much, but the way he instinctively moves to protect them in battle speaks louder than words ever could. He’ll also try harder to stay awake when they’re together—something that’s not easy for him, considering his nap habits.

Zoro doesn’t change in the flashy sense, but he becomes more aware of his surroundings. He’s always been protective of his crew, but now he’s fiercely protective of his partner, though he trusts them to fight their own battles. He still gets lost constantly, but now he finds himself checking over his shoulder to make sure they’re nearby. If they’re separated, he feels an unfamiliar twinge of discomfort until they’re reunited. His pride may prevent him from admitting it outright, but he values their presence more than he lets on.

In private moments, Zoro’s surprisingly tender. He’ll lie back with them in the crow’s nest or under the stars, his hands resting behind his head, and let them curl up against him. It’s quiet, but the silence between them feels natural, not forced. He’s not one for excessive physical affection, but sometimes he’ll run his fingers through their hair when he thinks they’re asleep. When they’re truly alone, he might even rest his head on their shoulder or let them lean on his chest, murmuring something gruff like, "Don’t get used to this," though they both know he doesn’t mean it.

Though Zoro’s heart remains focused on his dream, he learns that loving someone doesn’t distract him from his goals—it gives him one more reason to achieve them. He fights harder because now there’s someone he wants to protect, someone who makes the idea of surviving the next battle even more important.

Sanji

When Sanji enters a relationship, it deepens his already ingrained sense of devotion and care, but it also introduces new facets to his character.

In the early stages, Sanji will go above and beyond to make his partner feel special. He’ll pull out all the stops with grand gestures: candlelit dinners on the ship's deck, flowers arranged in intricate patterns, and love letters that might rival any romantic poet's. His cooking will reach new heights as he constantly experiments to create dishes that his partner will adore. Every meal becomes an expression of his affection.

Despite his over-the-top romanticism, Sanji’s behavior becomes even more attentive and protective. He’s always been chivalrous, but now he’s even more vigilant. He keeps an eye out for their safety in combat, sometimes even prioritizing their well-being over his own. His protective nature becomes apparent not just in battle but in everyday moments—whether it’s ensuring they’re comfortable in a rough sea or defending them from any form of insult or danger.

Sanji’s relentless charm and flirtation with others will soften considerably. While he still appreciates the beauty of women, his attention and flattery will be reserved for his partner. He may still cook for the crew and be a gentleman, but his flirtatious remarks will have an affectionate, teasing edge when directed at his loved one.

He’ll also struggle with balancing his desire to protect with respecting his partner’s independence. At times, his overprotectiveness might come off as smothering, but he’ll be learning to navigate this, respecting their space while still being ready to support them in any way he can.

Sanji’s cooking becomes an act of love, and he often creates special dishes that hold personal significance, from a meal that reminds him of their first date to a recipe that reflects something they shared together. When he’s feeling unsure or overwhelmed, he’ll retreat into the kitchen, using cooking as a way to process his feelings and reaffirm his commitment to them.

In quiet moments, away from the bustling ship and the crew’s antics, Sanji reveals a more vulnerable side. He’ll let his guard down, showing them the man behind the perfect image—the one who dreams of a peaceful life with them, where they can enjoy simple pleasures together. He might not always be articulate about his feelings, but his actions will speak volumes: the way he holds their hand, the way he listens intently to their stories, and the way he lights up when they’re around.

Ultimately, Sanji’s relationship brings out his deepest qualities—his loyalty, his nurturing nature, and his romantic heart. He’s driven by the desire to make them happy, and this only intensifies his passion for his dreams and his role within the crew. Loving someone makes him more grounded, but it also makes him more determined to build a future where he can share his life and love with them, all while continuing to support and cherish his friends and his culinary aspirations.

[roronoa-roro]

ᴘʀᴀɴᴋ #3 "ꜱᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ɴᴜᴅᴇꜱ" !!!

CW: nudes¡ suggestive language¡ mentions of sex¡

Pairing: (all post timeskip) suna, atsumu, osamu, ginjima x gn!reader

Network: @tokyometronetwork

ꜱᴜɴᴀ ʀɪɴᴛᴀʀᴏ

Guaranteed returns. All favors are returned x1000.

Send him a partial nude and you will get a dick pic within 3 milliseconds. Send him a thirst trap and an audio capture of him moaning your name is sent back.

Suna prides himself on his ability to collect quality material, so it's no surprise he's so very enthusiastic about this nudes exchange business.

Has pretty lights set up around his room just for the sake of clicking aesthetic dick pics.

There's even a special folder on his desktop dedicated to you. All these frisky pics and videos are stored there. He even names it his 'personal pornhub'

Comes home with hundreds of nasty fantasies filled in his head. Trust me he's created a very nice simulation of all the things he'd love to do to you.

ᴍɪʏᴀ ᴀᴛꜱᴜᴍᴜ

You just know this motherfucker is choking on his spit every time you send a pic that's even closely revealing.

This one time you send him a suggestive (only to dirty minded people) picture of your newly done nails holding your glass just for fun and next day videos of Miya Atsumu, star athlete clumsily fumbling with his phone are trending on the internet.

I'm really really sorry for this one but he totally responds in Adam Levine style😭😭😭 he's embarrassing you know it but you love him and that shitty replying style is something you and him have to work on.

He comes home all needy and whiny after that. Needs all the love and affection— much much more than usual.

He might not admit it but every time his phone pings and it's a message from you he pulls in a deep breath to stabilize his heart and be ready.

Atsumu is too much of an innocent boy for that cocky front he puts up.

ᴍɪʏᴀ ᴏꜱᴀᴍᴜ

Now this guy is a totally different story. Unlike his brother, although equally cocky, he has the guts to back it up.

You once sent him a nude while on a double dinner date just to see his reaction and this mf looked at the picture and smirked, licking his lip. Never tell him how flustering you found it you'd just be digging your own grave.

He's an observant guy, he knows all your preferences– from the food to the positions, so it's not a huge surprise to you when he sends you detailed, nasty, toe-curling replies.

Lowkey think he could run his own pornblog and we would still follow him like dick hungry bitches.

Sometimes, he would send you unprompted random messages while you are at work. Like sirrrr, you get it. He knows you very well but it's none of his business to ensure you're melting in your chair at work thinking about him.

But that's not all. The real nastiness starts when you return home, or his hotel. This man is filthy. And he's gonna pull you down with him whether you like it or not.

ʜɪᴛᴏꜱʜɪ ɢɪɴᴊɪᴍᴀ

You were sorely mistaken if you thought he was an innocent baby boy who had to be introduced to the art of sending nudes gently💀💀💀

He is the devil. This man laughs at you and calls you weak when you send him a partial nude.

The insult digs deeper when he sends you a beautiful, Pinterest worthy image of his pants pulled down just enough to show his perfect v-line. The sunlight kissing his pretty skin doesn't help either.

This ensues a nudes war. Who can click the better nude.

You both give each other occasional runs for your money. But it's usually him powning you most of the time. This guy has some serious aesthetics.

But the funny thing is, although you both forget the original intention of sending nudes, you both develop a cute and adorable sort of bonding activity out of it.

Lost the taglist so i won't tag anybody and this isn't gonna be a regular writing phase anyways so🙏🙏🙏 also drop some holy water in the comments and reblogs plej i need it I've been thinking very nasty thoughts abt a certain white haired sensei from naruto

[livinginshambles]

Preview: I thought you'd be different | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Summary: A Cinderella Story, but Hogwarts. (Enemies? to lovers)

Notes: Sorry I've been mia; i wrote this today, it's all I have so the full fic will probably take a while, not proofread, mistakes blah blah, enjoy!

PS. I am currently no longer making a taglist because I can't keep up with it, I'm really sorry!

Masterlist. Taglist

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

You could still remember the moment vividly, as if it was engraved in your memory.

That moment when the sorting hat placed you in Slytherin instead of Gryffindor like your two older sisters had been sorted. You could still see the look of surprise, concern, horror and then eventually disgust, every time you closed your eyes.

“Now we finally know your true colors,” is what you sister Alyssa had hissed coldly at you. You had pleadingly looked at your other sister, but Marla had supported her twin sister, disregarding the confused and scared look in your eleven-year-old eyes.

“Don’t talk to us, don’t look at us and don’t mention us at all,” she sneered down at you and for a moment you wondered how she hadn’t been the one to be sorted into Slytherin instead. But you had cast your eyes down and agreed.

But years passed and you had become the very stereotype of a Slytherin student, completely leaning into the cold, distant, quiet but calculating persona that your sisters had created for you. Might as well, you figured after your parent’s dismay at the revelation of your house.

You were making your way down the corridor, long strides as you passed your sisters while looking them straight in the eye. They grimaced at the sight of you, but without their entire group of classmates, they didn’t dare make any comments.

A feeling of victory erupted inside of you, and you couldn’t help the small smirk that crept up your face.

“What poor soul suffered for you to look so satisfied?” You turned your head to look at the person who called out to you. James Potter and Sirius Black were both leaning against a statue in the open yard.

“Did you get rid of Regulus or something?” Sirius taunted. “Finally had enough of him following you around, did you L/N?”

“Go die in a ditch, Sirius,” you retorted with an eyeroll, but seemed unphased.

“Why so much hostility,” James unpleasantly remarked, and you halted in your step.

To be petty or not to be petty, you sighed and rolled your eyes.

“10 points from Gryffindor for loitering,” you decided.

The two marauders started to protest.

“If you have nothing to do, other than insulting students, I would love to recommend you to Professor McGonagall for detention. Heard she was still looking for the person who made all the pumpkins explode last week during Halloween, and you guys are terrible at getting rid of the evidence.” It effectively shut them up, and with a last glance up and down, you continued your way towards the room of requirement.

When you entered the sober room with a sigh, you noticed the small scrolled up piece of parchment in the middle of the room. You frowned. This was your space. The room didn’t open this space for anyone else, you made it specifically as a safe haven.

You cautiously approached the parchment and rolled it open to reveal nothing. It was completely blank. You shrugged. If the room left this here, it was meant for you, and so you took a seat and started drawing on it.

James sat in an empty room, his invisibility cloak hiding him from plain sight as he pulled the now folded paper from his back pocket. He inspected it closely, almost pressing the paper to his glasses in a curious manner.

He had gone to the Room of Requirements earlier that day and found a piece of paper floating in the air. Of course, levitating stuff wasn't that strange, but it had intrigued him nonetheless.

James unfolded the paper, and his eyebrows flew up. Lines were appearing on the paper by itself, and a beautiful portrait of a weeping willow with a girl who was crying on a bench under the tree, appeared.

James fumbled to find his quill and ink. Then he started to write something on it, in a handwriting that he only ever used for written exams.

(Credits to Professor McGonagall who had announced that she would not be grading anything she couldn’t read. And she had looked over her glasses at him while she said it.)

It’s beautiful.

You dropped the parchment at the words that formed right under your drawing. You traced it with your fingers. Then you decided to write back.

Full fic

[justmeinadaze]

Created A Monster Part 2 (Steddie X Kas Y/N)

A/N: Totally new for me here. Reader kind of takes more control in this one but I'm not calling it Sub/Dom dynamics. As someone going through some shit right now, this is kinda something I needed with the angst and their strong need to please her <3.

Enjoy!

Part 1

I can also leave it here or add another part. Up to you!

Warning: Steddie & Kas (vampire) Reader, SMUT, I read that bats give off pheromones so that was KINDA utilized here but all three here are consenting, dirty talk, boys desperate for her praise, etc. FLUFF, reader has memories of the guys that she forgot thanks to Vecna, it shows the love they had/have for each other. Memories are in black bold.

ANGST (because I'm me), she does insult them a lot through the beginning and they do what they can to make her remember them. The feels are abound. There is a cameo from the envision they have of her from part 1. She's always represented with italicized font. She mentions being hit by Vecna which makes the guys mad (rightfully!). There is a moment in the upside down near the end where Vecna expresses disappointment in her. That world is in red font. Cliffhanger ending.

Word Count: 6099

"Got you on your knees, beggin', "Mommy, please?" Girl I used to be, now she isn't me, say, "R.I.P."

Call a doctor I think I created a monster She's got a psycho inside her But I think that I kinda like her."

After removing your armor, they hastily tied you to a pillar and waited for you to wake. 

“I watched her die in my arms, Steve. I held her till she took her last breath and even then people had to drag us away from her. How is she here?”

“I don’t know. She looks different…harder. She was always a badass but…’My master sends his regards.’ What can that mean?”

“In D&D there’s a character called Kas. He’s a solider with a sword who Vecna grants eternal life and in turn he becomes his right-hand man killing Vecna’s enemies.”

 “But then why would she come after us?”

“I mean we did help take him out—”

“No, asshole. I mean why is she, Y/N, coming after us, the men she loves?”

Growling catches their attention as your eyes flutter open and you take in your surroundings. 

“Sweetheart.”, Eddie coos as he holds up his hands in surrender to show he’s not a threat. “How are you feeling? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine but you aren’t. As soon as I get out of here, I’m going to rip you apart.”

“Oh, well, that’s nice.”

Steve rolls his eyes as he steps closer to you.

“Do you know who we are?”

“Steven Harrington, the former pathetic king of Hawkins who helped hurt my master by setting him on fire and Edward Munson who helped by distracting his babies so they couldn’t protect him. Still on the run, freak?”

Their eyes darkened as they listened to you speak. This wasn’t the girl they fell in love. You would have never said things like this to them before. 

“And who are you then?”

Your body straightens as you raise your chin in defiance. 

“I am my master’s right-hand and his strongest knight. I protect him and kill any of his enemies that he asks of me.”

“Ah, I see. So you’re his bitch?”

Baring your fangs, you hiss Eddie’s way causing both men to jump back before regaining their composure.

“My master takes care of me. He saved me when I was left bleeding to death on the concrete after you and friends tried to kill me!”

“Is that what he told you? No. No, honey, that’s not what happened. You were on our side of that fight.”

“My master said you would lie.”, you growl.

“HE killed you, Y/N. Him and his ‘babies’.”, the metalhead responded in an equally angry tone. “You were supposed to come back with us but you sacrificed yourself by distracting those things. THEY pinned you down and THEY bit into you. You died in my arms, sweetheart. How can you not remember this? I was fucking screaming at you—”

“Y/n! No, no, no, no, no. Stay with me, baby. Don’t you fucking close those beautiful eyes. Henderson! Go get Steve. Fucking hurry!”

“Be nice, a-asshole.”, you try to chuckle. “Eddie…I’m scared.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, ok? I’m right here and Steve is on his way. We’re gonna get you to a hospital. I just need you to keep talking with me.”

“I lo-ove you both…so much.”

“Hey, don’t you do that. Don’t fucking tell me goodbye!”

“It’s not goodbye… it’s—”

“…See you later.”

When you cut off Eddie’s story, his eyes locked with yours and for just a moment he saw the old you reflecting back within them. Their tiny victory was short lived however when your features hardened once more and you spit in their direction. 

“Let me go now and I promise to kill you quickly.”

“What should we do?”, Steve asked his friend, ignoring your threat. “We can’t tell the others about her because then they may want to kill her.”

“Maybe we can take turns watching her and talking to her? Get her to remember who she is.”

“And what if that’s a lost cause?”

Both men glanced your way as you tried to pull out of your binds.

“Then…we kill her.”

####################

While Steve laid in bed, he stared at the ceiling above completely unable to sleep as the events of the night you died run through his mind. 

He, Nancy, and Robin ran to where Eddie was clutching your limp body to his chest as he sobbed. 

“No! NO! What happened?!”, Steve screamed as he slid to his friend’s side. 

“She didn’t come through with us when we went back through the gate. She stayed behind to distract the bats and fight.”

“O-Ok. Ok, um, need to get her…get her to a…a hospital.”

“Steve—”

“NO!”, he shouted cutting Robin off as he reached over to pry you from the metalhead’s grasp. Dustin placed his hand on his shoulder when it took him a moment to let you go. “Honey?” His voice cracked when he felt how cold your skin was as he cupped your cheek in his palm. “Y/N, come back, baby. We won. We beat him. Vecna’s gone. We-We can go home.”

When your body remained lifeless in his arms, he desperately shook you.

“WAKE UP, Y/N! PLEASE!”

The realm around them began to quake almost knocking them off their feet. 

“We need to go NOW!”, Nancy instructed. 

“Ok, we-we need to lift her and—”

“We can’t Steve. We’ll barely be able to get Dustin back through and—”

“I’M NOT LEAVING HER HERE!”

“Neither am I.”, Eddie growled angrily at the thought. 

“I don’t blame you for having to leave me behind.”, the vision of you coos softly from beside him. “Maybe if you hadn’t I wouldn’t be in the living room right now.”

“That’s not you.”, Steve whispered. “Whoever that is, is what Vecna made her to be.”

“Hm. That’s one way to look at it. What if a version of me was hidden there the whole time and you didn’t know.”

“Please. The girl we knew would never let anyone tell her what to do.”

“Oh wow. Is little Stevie disappointed?” When he rolled away from you, your light laugh echoed in his ears. “You always did like those nights when I took control, didn’t you?”

***

“He’s talking to himself in there.”, you say sarcastically to the metalhead sitting on the counter in front of you strumming his guitar. 

“Yeah…he does that. He’s actually talk to you; a version of you.”

“Hm. We’ll that’s pathetic.” When he doesn’t respond or react to your words, your try to pull at your binds to no avail. “Do you also talk to a figment of your imagination?”

“Sometimes but I go to your grave to do that so I seem less insane.”, Eddie sighs as he readjusts his instrument. 

When his fingers start making a melody, you freeze as you listen to the notes. 

“I know that.”

A small smirk paints his lips as he plays a bit louder but softly murmurs some lyrics. 

“In touch with the ground I'm on the hunt, I'm after you Smell like I sound, I'm lost in a crowd And I'm hungry like the wolf.”

“You always loved that song. I would tease you because you would stop anything you were doing to watch the music video if it came on.”, he chuckles at the memory. 

“It was the fedora hats. Gave off this Indiana Jones vibe I always found attractive.”, the image of you beside Eddie laughed along with him. 

“We surprised you once by buying the outfits they wear and dressing like the band for Halloween. You felt bad because you thought we should all match so we ran to the corner store and bought you this headband with ears and a tail you could clip to your jeans. As soon as we stepped outside you howled real loud like a wolf.”

Eddie’s head hung at the memory, desperately missing those times when you made him unbelievably happy. 

“Baby, it’s ok to have hope that you can bring me back. You know it will kill you if you both don’t try.”, you try to soothe as you step closer to him. “It also ok if I don’t but you accept this new…powerful…stronger…sexier version of me.”

The metalhead snorts out another laugh as he glances towards the chained-up version of you to find your black eyes watching him curiously. 

“Oh come on. I know the armor and attitude got you all riled up.”

“Am I turning you on, freak, or the imaginary friend you both talk to?” A wide toothy smile stretched across your face as you inhaled through your nose. “The other asshole is turned on to if it makes you feel better.”

Eddie listened to you manically laugh as he jumped down from the counter so his friend could take over watching you. He couldn’t handle your snarky attitude anymore. 

#################

“Hey, man. You alright?”, Steve asked as his best friend sleepily came down the hallway rubbing his eyes. 

“Yeah. I think I slept for like a total of 20 minutes.” Eddie’s gaze shifts to your sleeping frame that was now sitting on the floor with your head resting on your shoulder. “When did she knock out?”

“Um, around 6am. I was going to ask you; it seems like she’s a vampire like you said. She has the fangs and hates the sun.”

“Hm and the silver chains seem to be keeping her in place. She’s probably going to be hungry soon. I wonder how she eats. I mean it’s not like Vecna is the kind of asshole to give her blood.”

“Ed…she’s killed a lot of people, remember?”

“Steve?”

The sound of you calling out the man’s name grabbed their attention as the metalhead slowly stepped closer to you. Your eyes were still closed but your breathing had gotten shallow as your head lolled to the other side. 

“Y/N?”

“Steve…Eddie’s…missing…”

The former jock’s eyes widened at your words as the memory flashed through his mind. 

“STEVE! Did you see—”

“Yeah, baby, I did.”, he pants out as he runs around the Family Video counter to take you in his arms. 

“Eddie’s missing! We have to find him! He’s probably terrified and panicking.”

“He’s probably at another friend’s house.”, Robin suggested. “Do you know who else he could be with?”

“I’m right here, sweetheart. I’m not missing anymore. You found me…you always did.”, he cooed. 

His ringed hand shook as he slowly reached for your cheek, breathing a heavy sigh of pleasure when his thumb caressed your cool skin. 

A low rumble left your chest and he promptly retracted when your eyes snapped open. 

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

“You were having a memory.”

“One of your lies imprinted in my brain!”

Steve angerly kicked one of the lower cabinets before leaning against the counter. A thought crossed his mind and you both watched him as he ran to the tv, searching through the plethora of VHS’s before finding what he wanted. 

Standing back, he pushed a button on the remote and the sound of your laugh echoed through the apartment.

“Steve! I’m going to laugh if we play this back and you’ve been filming the wall the whole time!”

“Honey, the lens is pointing at us. How would it capture the wall?!”

“Here, maybe, if we squeeze closer together…”

“Eddie! You’re crushing my ribs!”, you whine as the metalhead pushes you three closer together. 

Their eyes scan you over as you watch the video in front of you and your whole demeanor softened. 

“You guys are so dumb.”, you giggle and sigh. 

“Yeah but you still love us.”

“Damn right.”, you coo as you tilt up to kiss Steve’s lips. “So why did you spend money on this bulky thing?”

“Because…a few years from now when we’re married and have our six to ten kids…” The boy smiled when you rolled your eyes and your palm reached up to pet Eddie’s curls as he laughed into your shoulder. “… we can look back on this and remember. Remember a time when we were done fighting monsters and villains. A time before I became some awesome businessman working with Robin and making a ton of money.”

“A time before I became a fucking rockstar and women were screaming my name.”

“Oh my god, Ed.”, you laugh before he grips your chin and turns you towards him. 

“I’m sure even then all I hear is you.”, Eddie smiles as he kisses your lips. “What about you, sweetheart? What will you be doing?”

You softly grin as you pull them closer. 

“I don’t know yet but as long as I’m with you two I know I’ll be happy.”

“…I know I’ll be happy.”

When your words echoed alongside the ones in the video, another pang of hope pierced their hearts. 

“Did we fake that? Or imprint the idea in your head?”, Steve asked trying to hide the pleading in his tone. “You loved us and we loved you.”

“So much.”, Eddie added. “Still do, baby.”

A tear fell down your cheek as your eyes stared into a void, fleeting subtly from left to right as if you were sifting through your brain trying to decipher what was real. 

“Leave me alone.”, you commanded in a soft tone as you hung your head. 

Nodding, they did what you ask, surprising even you when they didn’t try to argue back.

***

“Ed! Wake up, man. Something’s wrong.”

Eddie’s head shot up from the chair he had fallen asleep on as his friend began to shake him. 

“Wha--? What’s happening?”

“I don’t know. She’s really clammy and growling.”

Without hesitation, he headed your way and carefully took you in. Your eyes were now fully black as your head leaned back against the wall and you panted heavily. Your shirt was damp against your chest as sweat fell from your temple and your stomach rumbled. 

“What’s wrong, Y/N?”

When you didn’t answer, he stepped forward before abruptly pausing when you hissed his way. 

“Hungry.”

“O-Ok. Um, what do you eat? Do need blood?” As he began taking off his bracelets and rings, Steve grabbed his shoulder to stop him. “She needs to eat or she’ll die, Steve.”

“What if she kills you?”

“Then she kills me. I lost her once; I’m not losing her again.”

You blinked as you listened to them speak in such absolutes about you. Your master told you that they were vile, selfish men who left you for dead to save themselves. But then why were they offering to feed you? Why were they trying so hard to keep you around?

“Here, sweetheart, take what you need.” When he noticed you looking at the scars on his wrist, Eddie lightly chuckled. “My, uh, beauty wound.”

“I…have them…to.”

“Yeah.”, he sighed. “I tried to save you but those little fuckers were everywhere. They got me pinned before I could get to you but, um, thankfully Steve saved the day.”

“Y/N! Y/N, I’m coming, princess. Fuck! Let me—ugh!—let me go!”

You shook out his voice screaming inside your head as pain shot through your body and you growled. 

“Shit. Ok, come on, Y/N. Go ahead and eat.”, the metalhead instructed as he placed his wrist by your lips. His scent wafted into your nose as another memory filled your brain. 

“The fuck are you doing you, weirdo?”, Eddie teases when he feels you inhale and nuzzle into his neck while you were straddling his lap as he tried to read. 

“I like the way you smell.”

He cackles through his teeth making you smile as you hug him tighter. 

“I smell disgusting. I haven’t showered in like three days and you know I smoke like a chimney.”

Tilting back, you tenderly kiss his lips. 

“Its YOU. I love the way YOU smell.”

While you were lost in your head, Eddie couldn’t help but caress your cheek and to his pleasure you turned into his palm. 

Suddenly, your teeth sunk into his flesh making him wince as the other boy stepped forward before he held up his free hand to stop him. As you drained his blood his chocolate eyes flutter closed as he groaned, falling towards you as his palm shot out to catch himself against the wall. 

“Talk to me, Munson.”

When his friend didn’t respond, Steve swiftly jumped into action, yanking him from you so hard he fell to the floor. You loudly growled at the action, your wings expanding as you push forward and broke the chain around you. Tackling him to the ground, he did his best to fight against you but you were stronger as your fangs sunk into his neck. 

The former jock’s fight slowly left him as his panicked whimpers were replaced with hefty groans of need as his fingers reached up to lace in your hair. 

“Ok, now look.”

As you slowly open your eyes and see your reflection in the mirror, you let out a loud “HA!” as you cover your mouth to stifle the rest from escaping.  

“What?! You don’t like it?”, Steve teases with a big grin as his large hand lightly pats your floofy hair being held up currently by a ton of hairspray. “You said you wanted to look like Madonna in that one video and for some reason trusted me to accomplish that.”

“I just thought that Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington would have some knowledge into hair.”

“Well, honey that was your mistake, not mine.” The boy’s laugh echoes through his always empty home as you gently hit his arm and he falls onto his back bringing you with him. “I still think you look beautiful.”

Your smile grows as you kiss his lips and he wraps his arms around you. 

“Eddie’s gonna have a field day though.”

“What?”, Steve asked breathlessly as he cupped your cheeks. “Keep going, baby. T-Take it. Take it all if you need to.”

At his words, a bunch of memories flash through your mind at once, overloading your brain as you tumble backwards on to the floor. 

“Whoa! What’s going on, sweetheart?”, Eddie asked as he hastily slid to your side. 

“I guess, um, we’re lab partners today?”, Steve forces a smile as he extends his hand to you. “I’m Steve Harrington.”

Eddie cautiously hands you a cigarette as he eyes you up and down as you both lean against the brick wall. “I’m Eddie…Eddie Munson. What’s your name?”

“Christ, I suck at this. The last person I said this to didn’t feel the same but…I don’t know…It’s just different…with you. What I’m trying to say, Y/N, is…I love you.”

“I love you, sweetheart, so much. I never thought I’d ever feel this way about anyone.”

“STEVE! Oh my God! Are you alright? When you got pulled under again I got so scared. Oh, fuck you’re bleeding. Nancy, do you have anything we can wrap around him?”

“I’m buying you more time. Don’t worry, Eddie, you can spank me after we finish this.”

“Y/N! No! Baby, please! Y/N! Y/N! Y/N.” 

Both men covered their ear as you tilted your head back and screamed. Before either of them could do anything about it, your wings expanded and you flew out the window.

#################

“What happened?”, Dustin asked after Eddie silently opened their front door and he saw their destroyed apartment. “We, um, Mike, Nancy, Robin, and I have been trying to call you guys these past couple of days. Did something happen? Someone break in?”

“No…nothing happened.”, the metalhead responded sullenly as he threw himself down on the couch. 

The young boy’s eyes flicked to Steve who was seemingly fuming as he paced back and forth in their kitchen.

“Did you get cut?”, Dustin inquired as he gestured towards his friend’s neck. 

“She has to come back. We know she’ll come back. She’ll remember. She’ll remember. She’ll remember.”

“Ok, no. Something’s not right! Now tell me or—”

“Or what?”, the former jock snapped. “Or WHAT, Henderson?!” Thrown off guard by his tone, Dustin slowly backed towards the door as his friend stalked his way. “Nothing then? Didn’t think so.” After lightly shoving the boy’s chest, he slammed the door and went back into the kitchen to pace. 

“That was rude.”, the vision of you scolded.

“Fuck OFF.”

“Oooo Mr. Harrington… are you…needy?”, you cackle mockingly as he glares your way. “Hmmm. Who would have thought you were into biting?”

“I’m not…you…you did something…”

“Who? Vampire Kas me? Ha! To be fair, it’s been, what, five months since either of you have gotten any? Feeling me on your lap again probably kick started your cock, you bad boy.”

The sound of glass shatters loudly as Steve throws a plate against the wall towards the vision of you. 

“Would you calm the fuck down!?”, Eddie shouts. 

“Fuck you!! Fuck everybody!”

The metalhead rises to his feet and stomps towards his friend before shoving his chest. 

“I feel it to but you don’t see me screaming at hallucinations and throwing shit!”

“Ugh! What did she do, Munson?!”

“She’s a fucking vampire now, right? Bats give off pheromones… Don’t look at me like that, Harrington! I don’t see you coming up with anything better!”

As night fell, they did everything they could to distract themselves but images of you constantly clouded their mind way more than before. They barely even heard it when your feet landed on the tile in the kitchen and your wings retracted. 

When their eyes landed on you, they thought they were envisioning you again. Your hair was laying down against your shoulders along a clean white tank top with matching shorts. Slowly, you tip toed to the couch where Eddie was laying drenched in sweat. Silently, you grabbed the back of his hand and place his palm against your cheek as you keened into the feeling. 

When his eyes found yours, his eyebrows knitted together as he pushed up on his elbow and his thumb ran along the purple bruise under your eye. 

“What happened, princess?”

Steve crawled from his place on the floor near the hallway till he was right beside you both and used his fingers to brush your hair behind your ear.

“Did I do that? Did we…?”

You shook your head as your gaze averted from theirs. 

“I…I asked my master…too many questions…”

The boy growled as he forced himself to his feet and stumbled towards the sword he had defeated you with on the ground. 

“I helped kill that fucker once, I can do it again.” 

Steve blinked in surprise when you were suddenly in front of him, gently prying the weapon from his hand. As he fell back against the wall, you fell into him and he limply circled his arms around you. 

“I’m sorry, honey. We’re not all…all here…”

Tenderly grabbing his hands, you placed them higher up your back before the sound of your wings expanding filled the apartment causing Eddie to roll off the couch and stagger your way. 

“No, NO, sweetheart, please…don’t go…”

Shaking your head, you place him beside his friend and lightly flap your wings their way. That feeling of need washed over them again causing both men to groan. 

“You were too close.”, you say as you gesture behind you. “It’s meant for enemies…to defuse a situation…I panicked…too many memories.”, you whisper sullenly. 

The metalhead tugs on your wrist, bringing you to him as he pushes your head against him. When your lips pressed against one of his tattoos, he practically melted, moaning at the action. Steve followed with a mewl of his own when your hand reached out to run along the hair that was sticking to his sweaty chest. 

A prominent whine escaped them as you took a few steps back with Eddie falling to his knees and crawling as he tried remaining as close to you as possible. Your eyelids fluttered as his lips trailed from your feet, along your calf, and up your thigh till he reached your stomach. 

After petting the long-haired boy’s head, you sauntered past them both down the hallway, pausing to beckon them with your finger and both men immediately follow. Laying down on the bed, they kiss and run their tongues along any part of your skin they can reach from your neck to the tips of your fingers.

Each pant and heavy whimper that left their mouths knocked something loose in your mind that turned you on more and more. 

“That’s it, Eddie, baby. Harder, please.”

“Fuck, Steve, I can feel you in my stomach.”

“Oh my God, pretty girl. You’re so fucking tight. You take us both so well.”

“That’s it, sweetheart. Ride my cock just like that.”

Lightly guiding his head with your fingers in his hair, you maneuvered Steve between your legs and helped him pull down your shorts while Eddie did the same with your top. 

The metalhead promptly latched onto your tit as the pretty boy pressed gentle kisses against your pussy lips till his tongue licked a long stripe through your folds. 

“Oh fuck, honey. I-I never thought I’d be able to taste you again. Still so fucking sweet.”

As his face fell back in your cunt and his mouth wrapped around your clit, your fingers softly played with his hair.

“That’s it, Steve. Such a good boy for me making me feel so good.”

Jealousy coursed through Eddie at the encouragement, desperately wanting it as well. Rings dug into your flesh as the long-haired boy sucked and nibbled on your breast a bit harder causing your back to arch into the man below. 

“Aw—mmm—does Eddie need some attention to? Fuck, your both gonna make me cum.” 

Both men hurried their rhythm just as desperate to hear you come undone and as you tumbled over the edge, you clung to them tightly as continuous moans fell from your lips. Grinning drunkenly, it took you some time to come down from your high but when you did you were met with animalist grunts as they pushed at each other. 

“You just ate her out! Why do you get to fuck her first?

“Because I can!”

A gruff growl left your throat as you pushed up and gripped Steve’s chin between your fingers roughly. 

“Don’t be greedy, Steve Harrington. You’re both mine and you’ve had a taste. It’s his turn.”

The boy nodded when you let him go, pressing his lips to yours.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You’re right. You’re right. Forgive me, baby, please.” At his last sentence, Steve’s voice cracked in pain and in return you kissed his forehead. “Thank you. I’m sorry, Ed. I’m so sorry.”

The metalhead curtly nodded as if to say he forgave his friend and when he turned to focus on you, he was rewarded with your legs open wide as your hand rubbed slow circles against your clit.

“Come here, Eddie. I can help make you feel better.”

After climbing the length of your body, his beautiful, glassy eyes locked with yours as he slowly guided his cock into your warm core making him loudly groan. 

“Ahhh my god, Y/N. Y-You feel…” He tried to control the strain in his tone but Eddie was so overwhelmed by the feeling of you as he delivered small, pointed thrusts that had little pants falling from your lips. 

“How do I feel, baby? Tell me.”

His long hair tickled your cheek as his head fell beside yours and your legs wrapped around his waist pushing him closer to you.

“You feel so fucking good. I missed you so much, sweetheart, you have no fucking idea. I’m sorry I failed to bring you back. I broke our promise.”

“You’re safe with me, pretty girl, and I promise nothing is ever going to hurt you as long as I’m here.”

Clinging to him, your lips tenderly kiss the skin along his shoulder as Eddie’s pace hastens and his hips slam aggressively into your own. 

“It’s ok, baby. You did everything y-you could.” You tried to say that as confidently as you could but the truth of the matter was you just didn’t remember. These past couple of days, your brain had been sifting through two timelines and it felt like sometimes you were viewing someone else’s life. But they were hurting and you could feel the sincerity when they spoke. 

Your master told you he loved you and would protect you; that he would never lie to you. But when you asked him questions about your memories, he became angry.

“WHY ARE YOU QUESTIONING ME?! After everything I’ve done for you, Y/N. You let them get in your head didn’t you? Made you weak? I knew I should I have left you on the concrete.”

“Hey. Hey, hey, hey.”, Eddie cooed as he lifted on to his elbow to look you over when he heard you start to sniffle. “Are you ok? Am I hurting you?”

Shaking your head, you encourage him with your palms to keep moving. His lips gently press a kiss to your forehead and down to your cheek as finds his rhythm again.

“Just l-like that, sweetheart, fuck. Your cock is so deep, Eddie.”, you whisper in his ear. “I love you.” 

Your eyes roll back as the coil snaps and your nails drag almost painfully down his back but the metalhead doesn’t care as he chases his high, falling flat on top of you as he rolls his hips and releases his seed inside of you.

“Good boy, baby. It’s Steve’s turn now, ok?”

Lazily nodding, he rolled to away from you as the other boy grabbed your arm and pulled you his chest while he laid on his side. After lifting your leg and hooking his arm under your knee, you helped guide his length into your sensitive hole causing your back to arch off the bed as you moaned. 

“Mmm—Stevie, oh my God—you’re so big. Stretching me open, baby boy.”

“Fuck.”, he groaned as he steadily pumped his hips. “Look at me, honey, please. I n-need to see your face.” When you craned your neck to do what he asked, his palm grazed your forehead, moving your hair back so he could see everything with no obstruction. “I missed you, Y/N. F-Fucking—mmm—dreamed about you every night.”

You mewled as he pounded into you and his arms abruptly pulled your body tighter against him.

“I tried, Y/N. I prayed you would never see the monsters in this town. I tried to—mmph—shield you.”

“Steven! What aren’t you telling me!” The man’s head hangs as he sits in his bedroom after you and Eddie picked him up from the hospital after the mall caught fire. “Baby…look at your face. That’s not just from a fire. Someone hurt you… Please…”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”, he murmured under his breath. 

Reaching out with your fingers to move his hair, Steve winces as a tear falls from his wounded eye. 

"Try us.”

Your fingers thread through his as his rhythm picks up and his cock abuses that spongey spot inside of you. 

“I’m sorry, baby. W-We weren’t fast enough…”

“It’s not your fault. Make me cum, Steve, please.” Pushing up on his elbow, his eyes met yours as he did what you asked and your mouth fell open in a silent moan as he thrust into you harder. “I love you to.”

Lips crashed to yours as your body trembled and you came with him following as he warmed your insides.

Both men clung to you as the kissed along your sweaty skin, thankful that you were between them once again. 

################

Vecna sighs from his spot in his crumbling home those insignificant kids tried to burn down. Idiots. He was slowly getting stronger and soon they would feel his wrath. Until then he had to depend on you; a friend and girlfriend to the people he despised. You had proven useful these past few months but when you disappeared, he thought they had killed you and began moving forward with his plan without you. 

When you flew in with half your armor missing and blood dripping from your mouth…he was disappointed. 

“What took you so long? I thought you were dead.”

Your head tilted at his aloof tone as you fought the urge to cry.

“I’m sorry, Master. Eddie and Steve were much harder to dispatch than I thought.”

“Hm. Eddie and Steve, huh? I thought they were the freak and asshole. At least that what’s you called them.”

“I-I-I…”

“Fitting men who hurt you and left you to die.”

“Did they?”

You didn’t mean to say it out loud but you still stood up straighter when he turned to face you, his intimidating eyes taking you in as he stepped forward. 

“Are you questioning me?”

“No…N-No, sir. I just…I’ve been having these…flashes and—”

Vecna’s large hand across your face cut you off as he smacked you hard and you fell to the ground. He reprimanded you and you flew away to your “home” to rest so you could go back out when night fell again. You thought he didn’t know your secrets but he always did. This WHOLE WORLD was his home. 

He felt the wind of your wings when you descended to the apartment building you felt safe in for some reason. The vine that you moved out of the way as you opened the window to a “random” apartment and curled up on a dusty bed. The pin of the thumb tac you put in the wall to replace the generic frames that were there with a banner from the trailer you explored next to where you woke up. 

You didn’t know what “Corroded Coffin” was but for some reason the design gave you peace. After removing your armor, you would sift through your closet for clothes you lifted from that same trailer and another house a few miles down the way. Dozens of polo shirts and band tee’s that were much bigger than your tiny frame but they calmed you as soon as you put them on. 

You had hidden little Knick knacks in the drawer nearby hoping one day you’d get the courage to ask your master why they felt so important to you. There was a 20-sided die beside a book with notes about dragons and dungeons and hair gel that smelled familiar but you couldn’t pinpoint where. You had four metal rings that sometimes you put on your fingers as you slept feeling like someone was holding your hand in the dark when you did. In the house you found the polos in, there was a pair of sunglasses on the dresser that you ignored at first because there was no sun here but something in your stomach tugged at you to bring them with you. 

“Weak”, Vecna thought every single time. 

When morning came around and you didn’t come home again he shifted from disappointed to annoyed. Maybe he needed to do this particular task himself. He still wasn’t as strong as he was before but he had enough strength to take out two measly men. 

You would learn…one way or another…

****

You gasp as the strong feeling that woke you slowly recedes but are hit with the peak of sunlight that penetrates the through the crack in the shades causing you to hiss as you jump out of bed and push your back to a corner. 

“Whoa! Ok, baby. It’s ok!”, Steve calms as he hastily throws off the covers and runs to fully cover the part of the window that had sun coming through. 

Eddie slides down to his knees in front of you as his eyes look you over with concern. 

“What’s going on, Y/N? What happened?”

“We…we…we have to…I have to go… I have to…”

“Sweetheart, it’s noon. The sun will hurt you—”

“Ok, then you need to leave. Right now. RIGHT NOW!”

As you stand up and start to push forward, ring covered fingers keep you in place before you growl and the man lets you go holding his palms in the air.  

“Just talk to us, honey. What’s going on? Let us help you.”, Steve pleads as he takes his place at his friend’s side. 

“He’s coming for you because I failed.”

“Who?”

Your worried gaze shifts between them both as you sigh and shake your head, annoyed that they don’t already know. 

“Who’s coming for us, baby?”, Eddie asked again as he stepped towards you and carefully pushed some of your hair behind your ear. Closing your eyes, you turn your cheek into his palm and kiss the skin as you place your hand over the back of his own. 

“My master.”

###############

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