#We become a little unhinged when tired | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

littlejuicebox · 2 months

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Camping for beginners.

Written to sort of kill two birds with one stone. @coyote-mint this isn't Astarion soothing a baby, but it is Astarion giving Tav a break as she goes on a little, well-deserved vacation! @davenswitcher I also worked your storybook prompt in! Hope you two both like it; thanks for prompts! Special thanks to @chickywickers for helping me name the twins. :)

Summary: Tav/You are out of town and Astarion is full-time daddy duty without the nanny. In an effort to keep three children entertained, he decides upon camping in the backyard.

Tags/Warnings: all fluff, parenthood, children, dadstarion, the mildest reference to sexual encounters, mildest reference to bg3 events and trauma

Word Count: 2.5K

Astarion is pitching a tent in the ground, cursing to himself every few moments as he goes about the task. Once upon a time, he’d had Tav or Karlach… or perhaps even an unenthusiastic Lae’zel or an overenthusiastic Wyll to assist him.

But now, it’s him and three little boys in the midsummer heat. Tav won’t be back until tomorrow morning, after a week away visiting Shadowheart and Lae’zel in the Dalelands. It’s a sunny Sunday, and Winifred, the nanny, has weekends off.

So it’s all up to papa for a day longer. He’s sweaty, tired, and pulling from deeply hidden reserves of patience he didn’t know he had until now.

Astarion thinks he has never missed his wife more in all their time together. One more day. He can do it, right?

“Gale, hold this for me,” The frustrated father directs, guiding his ever-obedient and sometimes now shockingly stoic six year old to one of the tent poles.

Gale nods and follows his father’s instructions as his little brothers scream and run around the orchard with toy swords, wreaking havoc as usual. The younger Ancunins are a tornado of scraped knees and sticky fingers at any given time. Their parents consider it a win if the twins make it an entire day without breaking something.

Evander and Finnick are naturally more wild and unruly than their older brother ever was. Astarion is painfully aware that the streak of disobedience in the duo comes entirely from him. The twins test his patience far more than Gale ever had, and in the absence of their mother, the two have become almost completely unhinged.

Tav is the twin wrangler; they are softer with her – but then, she’s always had a way with the more surly, roguish types. Her unique charm somehow soothes them into compliance. Astarion lacks the same skills and is, unfortunately, paying for it this weekend.

The younger boys are straying too far away for Astarion’s liking, and as he hammers a stake into the orchard’s fertile earth, he shouts at the twins, “Evan and Finn, you two had better get your little behinds back—“

He stops and sighs; the twins are too interested in their make-believe and paying absolutely no mind to their father and his chastisement. Astarion resumes his task and without even looking back up at his eldest asks, “Gale, will you please contain them for a moment until we finish this?”

A lazy wave of Gale’s hand, reminiscent of Astarion’s own flippant movements when he speaks, and vines spring from the earth. The tendrils wrap around Evander and Finnick, holding each of them by the torso. A second tendril springs to life from the soil and wraps around the brothers, pulling them into its embrace just as the first tendril recedes. This process continues in a domino effect until the twins are but a few feet from their father, struggling against the vines and expressing their displeasure with grunts and screams.

Astarion lifts his head from the stake and watches the scene in a mixture of amusement and amazement, and when the boys are sufficiently contained he turns to smile at his eldest, “You really are exceptionally talented, you know that, don’t you?”

Gale smiles and nods before he looks down at the ground, unable to meet his father’s proud gaze as he says, “I know, Papa.”

The eldest Ancunin boy struggled in school all last year. His fragile confidence took a huge tumble, which his parents were working to restore to the best of their ability. Gale always required softer hands in comparison to his brothers; Astarion was still learning how to navigate this difference.

“Let go!” The twins shout in unison, short limbs flailing against the vines gently containing their three year old bodies.

They look like mirror images of one another, down to the dark wavy hair parted in opposite directions and vitiligo patches splattered across opposing green eyes. Evander’s is on his left eye, Finnick’s is on his right. Together, they look like a Rorschach Test.

Astarion’s patience is gone; part of him considers leaving the duo trapped in the vines until Tav returns. He narrows his eyes at the youngest Ancunins, pointing accusingly at them with the hammer, “You two asked to camp outside, and after very insistent pleas, I agreed. So if you don’t want daddy to pack up this entire thing and take you both back into the house, you are to stand there. Quietly.”

Finnick, the younger of the twins by a few minutes, wrinkles his nose in displeasure at his father, “Mean, daddy.”

A slow, long exhale escapes Astarion as he stares at the surly three year old with furrowed brows.

“My child, you have no idea how mean I can be, now hush so that your brother and I can finish this,” Astarion instructs, and then returns to work pitching the tent, ignoring the frustrated whines and protests from the twins all the while.

Around the small campfire, the Ancunin boys roast marshmallows on sticks as Astarion reads a tale from one of their story books. Apple is, as almost always, curled up next to Gale. The eldest Ancunin boy sneaks the dog marshmallows and his father pretends not to notice.

If that’s the most rebellious Gale ever is, so be it. The twins are a different challenge, entirely.

The story is all about slaying dragons, knights in shining armor, damsels in distress… the usual. The topic is exceptionally boring to the father of three, given all he’s experienced, but he’s gotten used to pretending this ridiculous droll is highly entertaining and throwing his voice for his kids amusement.

And, plus, if the twins are entertained, they aren’t causing mayhem, which is all Astarion can ask for tonight. Tav will be back in less than twelve hours, he reminds himself.

All hail his wife, Lady Ancunin, the Hero of Baldur’s Gate, and the hero of this household.

This weekend has Astarion regretting any moment he might have taken her for granted or not shown enough appreciation for her.

While the father of three continues to read, a sudden rustling at the edge of the orchard catches everyone’s attention. The three-year-old twins instantly cling to one another in fear and Apple’s head snaps up to peer towards the possible threat.

“Werewolf!” Evander shouts.

“Vampire!” Finnick continues.

Gale giggles and shakes his head, “No… it’s a raccoon. I can hear her. She smells the food.”

Astarion’s nose wrinkles in distaste as his silver-haired son takes his plate of leftovers and meanders toward the edge of the property, but he chooses to remain silent and let his son feed the vile creature. With Gale around, it’s a wonder they aren’t overrun with vermin and rodents galore. Though, the feral cat colony the little boy single-handedly created is likely keeping the other animal population at bay.

Gale places the plate down, whispers something to the raccoon, and returns back to the campfire, nestling his head into Apple’s side as he settles back into the dirt.

“Papa… there aren’t really vampires and werewolves out in the woods… right?” Gale questions, his eyebrows shooting up into his forehead in concern as he thinks.

“Perhaps not in the woods right here…” Astarion responds, trying to figure out how to be honest with his children without frightening them entirely, “But they do exist… I’ve killed a vampire before.”

At this the two younger Ancunins gasp and Gale shoots back up to sitting, his green eyes widened in shock as he asks, “You’ve killed a vampire before?”

Astarion chuckles. Sometimes he forgets how little his children truly know of his past. He shuts the storybook in his lap closed and nods, a small smile crossing his face, “I have. Your mother helped me. Would you three like to hear about it?”

“Yes!” The boys all shout in unison, all coming as close to their father as they possibly can.

“Very well,” Astarion agrees with a grin, and then he launches into the tale of fighting Cazador, mindful to keep everything as child-friendly as a gorey battle can possibly be and leaving his enslavement entirely out of the picture. The children will learn about that later, he thinks, but now is not the time.

The boys are wholly captivated by their father’s tale until the twins begin to drift off, slumped against one another. Gale is the only one still awake when his father finishes the story. There is a moment of quiet at the end as his eldest reflects upon all that was revealed to him.

“Were you scared, Papa?” He finally asks, his fingers threading into the curled fur on Apple’s back.

Astarion nods in response, “Of course, Gale. But… I think you cannot be brave if you don’t feel a bit scared, first.”

The eldest Ancunin boy sighs. He has feelings about this that he has not yet been able to put into words. Gale’s general kindness and gentleness is such a stark contrast to many of the kids at school; he’d gotten himself into more than one scuffle. He was perceived as an easy target, because he knew better than to use his powers on the other children. As a result, Gale often simply let the other children attack him, not ever wanting to hurt anyone, even if it was in his defense.

Astarion had, more than once this year, gone to the school and threatened to retract their donations if the issue was not resolved. One of the child’s parents had been hit with a lawsuit after Gale returned home with a black eye. But come the start of next term, there was a strong chance this behavior would continue.

He and Tav had both lost countless hours of sleep over this very topic.

“How do you know…” Gale starts, and then stops with another sigh, staring up at the stars as he tries to find his words, “How do you know when it’s time to fight back?”

There is a moment of silence as the older elf considers this question. How do you know?

“If someone doesn’t listen when you ask them to stop, that is how you know, Gale,” Astarion responds, finally, his hand coming to ruffle the curls upon his eldest’s head, “And if someone is hurting you or someone you care about, and they refuse to stop when you ask them the first time, that is all the permission you need. Your mother and I will always agree with you if you are protecting yourself or your brothers in defense, little prince.”

The silver-haired six year old nods with a yawn, his fingers still curled in Apple’s fur.

“Now come on, let’s get you and your brothers inside the tent for the night,” Astarion directs, picking up one of the twins and holding the flap open for Gale. He gets the two boys settled before returning to retrieve the remaining one and calling for Apple to join all four Ancunins.

The fire is left glowing its final embers as the men all drift off to sleep.

You find the tent in the orchard after returning to a house filled with only your regular employees. Winifred, the nanny, and Pascal, the steward, are both clueless as to where your children and husband are this morning. When you enter the backyard, a snuffed fire and Apple keeping guard outside the tent not more than ten feet from the manor signal you’ve found your family.

You crouch and open the tent flap, only to be greeted by an adorable image. Astarion is on his back, one twin clinging to each leg and Gale nestled into the crook of his arm. All four of the Ancunins are still sleeping, seemingly exhausted from the night before.

“Good morning, my little loves,” You greet in a soft murmur.

Astarion is the first to open his eyes and smile at you as he sits up, expertly maneuvering himself around three sets of other limbs.

“Welcome back home, Tav. We missed you. I think that perhaps I missed you the most.” Astarion greets, leaning forward to press an affectionate kiss upon your cheek and grabbing your hand to give it a squeeze.

“No, me!” Evander protests through a yawn as he scrambles to wrap his arm around your arm.

“No, me!” Finnick echos, sitting up and pushing a cluster of curls from his face to grin at you.

“I think it was me, mama.” Gale calls softly, his head still resting upon the pillow, eyes still shut.

You chuckle in response to this ridiculous argument before standing and lifting the tent flap entirely, “I missed you all, too. Alright everyone, let’s get inside for breakfast. I’m making pancakes.”

A clamor of excitement from the Ancunin boys fills the orchard as your children exit the tent and begin the short journey back toward the house. Apple is running after them, her tail wagging excitedly because she knows she will get whatever leftovers the boys cannot finish.

As the children disappear into the house, Astarion grabs your hand with a mischievous grin, insistently pulling you into the tent with him.

“My love, the boys–” You begin to protest, but your husband cuts you off with a kiss pressed against your lips as his nimble fingers quickly shut the tent behind you.

“It’s Monday, surely Winifred is already in, hm?” Astarion questions, his mouth already trailing kisses along your neck, “She can handle the trio for… oh, twenty minutes?”

You gasp as the elf’s fingers slowly trail under your dress and up your thighs to grip at the flesh around your hips. And then you turn to meet your husband’s face as he pulls you into a kiss. Being in the tent reminds you of old times out on the road, all those years ago, and you quickly fall under the Astarion’s spell, just as you had back then.

Your husband breaks away from the kiss and begins to pull your dress over your head. He grins and roams his eyes over your body when you’re left in nothing but your underclothes, “And… not that it’s a competition, little love. But I maintain I missed you the most.”

He doesn’t leave room for response as he pounces upon you, eager to show you just how much he missed you this past week.

Less than twenty minutes later, the twins are back outside the tent, screaming impatiently for pancakes as an apologetic Winifred calls after them from the porch. Astarion groans and is forced to throw his trousers back on with a whispered, “We’ll finish this later tonight, hm?”

And then he’s climbing out of the tent, corralling the two younger Ancunin’s back into the house and buying you a moment to throw your dress back on before exiting yourself.

When you enter the kitchen, Astarion has thrown his crumpled shirt back on and is already starting the pancake batter among a chatter of excited storytelling from the boys. Winifred is forcing the twins to wash their hands as they speak about the raccoon they thought was a monster and Gale asks you to confirm the two of you really killed a vampire.

At this last part you shoot Astarion a questioning look and he shrugs while flashing you an apologetic smile. He looks like the twins when they’ve been caught breaking something. You know you’ll have to follow up later, but for now, all you want to do is focus on your little loves.

They all missed you, and you missed them just as much. Perhaps more.

But it’s not a competition.

#astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x you #dadstarion fic #dadstarion #papastarion #astarion headcanons #domestic astarion #astarion fluff #astarion x f!reader #astarion x female reader #astarion reader insert #astarion reader fluff

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arabellasleopardcoat · 11 months

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Lamb (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Modern Daemon has bad blowjob etiquette. You think you can teach him a lesson.

Warnings: Smut. Rimming. That’s it. That's the fic. Nah, kidding. Cursing, trapped in an elevator, male masturbation. Casual workplace sexism.

A/N: The last two Sundays I decided to be sweet. But since my finals started, we go back to my scheduled period of being unhinged. And then I started my actual period and hated this so much. So if it sucks, sorry.

He is staring at you. Again.

You never understood the point of glass walls. If you owned the building, you would have them all replaced by real, actual walls. Or at least, you would put blinds on. But you don’t own the building.

The man that does is sitting in the office right across from yours, staring towards you. Daemon Targaryen. Board member of Targaryen’s Industries. Your father and he had been at each other’s throats since you had been a little girl. Otto Hightower and Daemon Targaryen hated each other, it was a fact of life. Him choosing the office right across from yours had been taken as nothing more than a taunt to your father.

But you knew better. Daemon was set on driving you to insanity. You scowled, and he smirked at you, closing his laptop and sliding those damn glasses off his face to look at you unashamedly. He looked starving. Like he wanted to eat you whole.

You didn’t actually know what his position was. It was hard to keep track. He had been appointed by the CEO, your godfather Viserys, to more departments than you could count. First, he had been head of marketing, but your father complained he was using too expensive models that were not on the budget. Then, he had overseen PR, which had been an absolute disaster. After that, he had been placed as the CFTO, only to be demoted a few weeks later. Then he had been… Well, you get the idea.

Daemon waves his hand, shaking you out of your contemplation. You quickly close your mouth, noticing you had your lips slightly parted, as if to speak a word that would never come out. He snickers, no doubt amused at what he perceives as a weakness.

He has done this for a month. You have to give it to him, he is a patient man. Daemon sits there every morning and just looks at you. Takes you in, as you flutter around your office, sometimes on the phone, sometimes typing away on your computer. He never gets bored, or tired of it. How could he, when he is a predator waiting to pounce?

You see, Daemon has been waiting weeks for a moment of weakness. Taunting you, looking at you, making you uncomfortable. And it’s fitting, really. That today of all days is the day you break. There is a storm raging outside, the worst winter Westeros has seen in years. Climate change it’s at fault, or so they say. You only know that you despise Daemon, and you despise thunderstorms.

His eyes. Purple and mischievous, meeting yours at every turn. You despise those. His little sideways smirk. That, too, you hate. You hate his entitled, nepo baby attitude, and you are sick of the taunts about your nephews and sister. His handsome face, and how good he looks in glasses. Annoying. You wish someone would put him in his place.

No one had actually expected you to enter corporate life. You see, as the daughter of an old money family, your father was sure you would do just as Alicent did and become the housewife of a rich man. The thing he didn’t take in consideration was that you had inherited none of your mother’s and Alicent’s grace and soft tempers, and all his cunningness.

You had gone to a good school, and had quickly risen through corporate ranks. You had a strong work ethic, but your last name had helped, too. Being the daughter of Otto Hightower had his perks, especially in university, considering you had been able to not worry about paying student debt and only focus on getting good grades. It also helped that you had a sure work once you had graduated, since Viserys Targaryen was not only your brother-in-law, but you were his goddaughter too. That last fact had made for interesting conversations after he married your older sister.

Still, you dedicated yourself to your work, trying to prove you deserved to be there as much as anyone else. It was a male dominated field, and working in the company where your father was CCO, and your sister married to the owner meant many expected you to be either looking for your own rich husband or to be a lazy nepo baby. Just like Daemon was.

The sound of thunder cast you out of your thoughts. You gave a quick glance at the window, noticing that once more, it was pouring. Not a good omen for your meeting. Thunderstorms always made you slightly uneasy.

Too wired to keep working, you shut down your laptop and slid it inside your purse. You had to be at the meeting room in fifteen minutes, which, in reality, meant you had to leave now. As soon as you stepped outside, however, it seemed destiny had other plans.

“Oi, sweetheart!” Daemon called, and you fantasized of strangling him with one of his expensive ties. You knew, without needing him to speak more, that he was about to taunt you. Still, he owned half the company, you couldn’t risk ignoring him. You turned, heels clicking in the hallway. “Bring me a soy latte, no sugar.”

“Mr. Targaryen, I’m sorry, I’m not your secretary. And I’m going to a meeting.” You answered, very politely, and started walking again, this time towards the elevator. Daemon followed, eyeing your ass with delight. You truly worked those dress pants.

“Come on, Hightower. We both know you are not really busy.” He arrived at the elevator first, to your disgrace, and pressed the button. Daemon leaned his arm on the wall, effectively caging you in. You glared at him, trying not to get distracted by how good he smelled. It’s not that you were attracted to him, surely. He just used an expensive cologne, and those always smelt good. Even your nephew Aegon, who was the sleaziest twenty-something you had ever met, could make them work.

“I am, though.” You ducked under his arm and pressed the button insistently, trying to get the elevator to arrive faster. Nothing happened.

“Doing what? Getting the rest of the board coffee?” Daemon snickered at his joke. You turned to look at him, giving him a disdainful once over that turned… Not so disdainful, when you realized he looked good enough to eat in that suit. Whatever, it’s not like it meant anything. All men did. Still, your cheeks heated up, and your next words came out in a mutter.

“Doing my job, Mister Targaryen. Which does not involve serving coffee.”

“Bah, you are a CDO. A made up position if I saw one.”

“I plan the whole company's social media strategy, and oversee our different digital platforms for purchase and devolution.” You glare even more, but quickly avert your eyes when you realize he is looking at you like he wants to eat you. Again. Gods, does he ever tire? “Hardly a made up position.”

“So you direct a bunch of nerds and interns. Big deal. You can still get me coffee, or send your minions to get me one.” Daemon stepped closer, twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers. You batted his hands away, shivering. From the cold, obviously. There was a storm raging outside, it had been one of the harshest winters in a while. It didn’t matter that you were wearing thermal clothes underneath your suit, which was wool. You were not affected by Daemon’s touch. At all.

“Here’s a novel idea.” You were just too angry to avoid insulting him. It was not often you resorted to those petty tactics. You left them to your nephews, Aemond and Aegon. “Why don’t you go bring me coffee? I don’t even know what you are doing in our department, you don’t even have Instagram, old man.”

Daemon laughed.

“Who are you calling old man, little girl? I will have you know, I know all about social media.”

“Oh, really?”

Daemon ignored you, typing something on his phone. You weren’t too bothered by it because the elevator finally got there, and you were able to step inside. Your phone pinged, as you did, so your hand went to the pocket of your blazer to check it. Distracted, you didn’t notice Daemon getting into the elevator with you.

Your phone pinged again. You took it out, checking the notification without unlocking it.

@caraxesrider has started following you

@caraxesrider: U were saying?

At that, you looked up and glared at him, startling a little at finding him inside the elevator.

“You know I will have to report this, right?” You quickly started scrolling through his Instagram, which seemed very… Normal. He followed his official one, and the accounts of his family members and plenty of models and fitness girls. In little clothing. What a pig. “You are not allowed to have an Instagram, apart from the official one that is in the hands of the community manager.”

“Says who?”

“Viserys.”

“Real mature, that you call him by his first name now. Tell me, do you think watching your father’s business partner marry your older sister, who is young enough to be her daughter, traumatized you?”

You ignored his taunt, frowning.

“I will report you to the PR department, they were clear you are not allowed to…”

“Not allowed.” He imitated your voice, mockingly. “Not allowed. Will you tell your daddy, little girl?”

“I’m serious.”

“Whatever. Report me. I don’t care, you are such a kiss ass.” Daemon rolled his eyes. It stung a little. You hated being called that. It was not your fault, truly. You liked following the rules. They were there for a reason. And Daemon’s antics usually made the company stock drop because his last name was attached to it. When Daemon got drunk and insulted a server or was spotted at a strip club, it was not him who suffered, but the company as a whole. He was a PR nightmare. His Instagram, no matter how private, would eventually leak and become another.

But whatever you were going to say, be it either a witty retort, or more talk about what you were going to do, died in your throat when the elevator jerked to an abrupt halt.

“What… What..?” You braced against the wall, the phone falling to the floor in your haste to hold on to something.

“Well, at least we still got power…” Daemon pointed towards one of the security cameras. “They will see us and then…” He didn’t get to finish his sentence because the lights turned off, leaving you both completely in the dark.

“You jinxed it!” You accused, voice shaking. You were not claustrophobic, nor were you afraid of the dark. What did scare you, however, was that you were trapped in an elevator in a building with no power, which as far as you knew, meant you could plummet to your dead anytime.

“Fuck. Never mind. Are you alright? You sound as if you are about to cry, and I can’t deal with crying people.” Daemon complained, switching on his phone, so he could light up the space. He truly looked concerned. He dropped to his knees to search for your phone and handed it to you.

“I’m fine. Just… Do you think we are safe?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Daemon banged on the wall of the elevator, making you let out a tiny yelp at how it shook.

“Don’t do that!”

“When elevators get less power, they jerk to a stop. It’s safe. It was probably the storm.” Daemon is leaning against the wall and starting to scroll through his phone. Like he is bored. And not, you know, terrified out of his mind because he is hanging from a rope in a metal cubicle caught between floors. The thought makes even more panic bubble up in your throat, so you try to think of something else.

“How do you know that?” You narrow your eyes at him, noticing how the light from his phone lighted up his sharp features, giving them an eerie blue glow.

“I read the OSH mail, every once in a while. That was in the winter’s newsletter.” He drawled, in a bored tone. “Come here.”

“Why?”

“Because you look frightened. Come here. I can make you feel better.” And he almost sounds convincing. Were the light on, you would be able to see that he is nearly salivating at the mouth, like the wolf about to pounce on a little lamb.

He has been working on you for a month. Little pretty Hightower, so tightly wound, always doing the right thing. So close to snapping. It’s like you were a present, placed on his lap by Otto himself when he sent him to this godforsaken department.

You gave him a dubious look, but stepped closer.

“Good girl.” Daemon brushed your hair back, gently. You were so close to breaking, he could taste it. “You will be just fine, just match your breathing to mine.

“I’m not having a panic attack, you fool.” You complained, trying to hide the hint of a smile on your lips. What was it about him that was so intoxicating? He had boosted your mood immediately. Oh, you hated feeding his ego.

"Rude.” Daemon muttered. He pulled you into a hug, pressing your bodies close. Chest to chest, hips to hips. Your curves against him, so damn soft, so ready for the taking. “There, there. It will all be fine.”

“I pity your kids.” Still, you melted into the hug regardless. Daemon took the chance to nuzzle your hair, hands trailing dangerously lower on your back.

“You are so rude and cunty. I can see the family resemblance.”

“Shut up, you inbred degenerate.” You mumbled against his throat, still hugging him. “You were chasing after your niece’s skirts not so long ago. And Viserys first wife was your cousin. Your family resemblance is worse.”

“I have not denied it.”

And of course, doing something very foolish, you tilted your head up and kissed him. Blame it on the sexual frustration, or the way he had shown you he had a decent side to him, but you never found him more tempting. Your kiss was heated, all teeth and frustration. If he responded, it would undoubtedly turn things less family friendly.

Daemon, never one to lose the opportunity to have sex, responded in earnest. How could he not, when he had been waiting for a chance to pounce for a month? His lips parted, turning the kiss into something much more dirty. His hands went to your hips, rolling them against his. You moaned.

When you parted, he had his trademark smirk on, full force. The one that said, Daemon Targaryen is a winner. The asshole was getting off on the thought of corrupting a Hightower.

You pressed a few careful kisses down his throat, making sure to not smear your lipstick in places that are noticeable. Daemon smells so good, it makes your knees weak. Fucking expensive cologne.

The arousal doesn't let you think straight, and he loves it. You are desperate for him already, Daemon can tell by the way you clutch and grope at him. And in truth, you are turning into a wanton little thing. Wet from just a few stolen kisses, it’s hard to think of all the reasons why this is wrong.

You want to suck his cock, badly. It’s not often, you are in the right headspace to give head. It gets guys too arrogant. And Daemon is already arrogant enough. The temptation seems too great, until he tries pushing your head down. Talk about a mood killer. It feels as if a bucket of cold water has been dumped on top of you, dulling your arousal and making you realize, in fact, you had been about to suck your nemesis off.

Daemon. You had been about to suck Daemon's cock. The guy who orders you to bring him coffee, as if you were some intern and not the head of your section. The guy who despises your family. The guy who calls you and your father kiss asses and Alicent a cunt. Twenty years older, brother to your godfather, man whore, Daemon.

Oh my god, are you turning into Alicent? Fucking men old enough to be your father? Being into Targaryens? Ew. No way. Viserys is nowhere near as appealing as Daemon. But still. What's next, leaving your career to pop out entitled brats?

You stop. Daemon pushes your head down again. It ignites a rage long settled on you.

“Are you seriously pushing my head down?” It comes out like an indignant little yelp. Turns out, the little lamb was not so willing to surrender, Daemon thinks. He has two choices. He can force you down, make you break. Or he can wait it out, lull you into a false sense of comfort, and slowly get you more and more pliant. Yet, he wants to see what you are about to do.

“Is it working?” He sasses, and you turn your head up to glare, even if he can’t see it in the dark elevator. Then, a thought sparkles in your mind. Kiss ass. And here you have someone who needs to be taught a lesson.

A thud. Your knees hitting the floor of the elevator, between Daemon's legs.

“Fuck. Are you really…?” He groans, and you hear another thud. Must be his head against the wall. Good. Perhaps this way, his two brain cells will actually connect.

You unbuckle his belt and open his trousers, the sound loud in the stillness of the elevator. It's done the fast and quick way, not really knowing how much time you have left before someone comes looking for you. You kiss his hipbones, then his thighs. Daemon tangles a hand in your hair, leading you to his cock. You go along with it, but do not touch him where he wants you to.

Instead, you go lower. And a bit further back.

“What are you…?” He asks, confused. Praying to god he showered that morning, you spread him open and lick a stripe over his asshole. His body seizes up, a moan leaving his mouth. “Oh, little girl… You are filthy.”

Daemon is clean, if a bit hairy. The carpet matches the drapes, you will be able to say now. This will be a little secret, between the two of you. When he mocks you in the boardroom, or asks you to get him coffee, you will be able to think of this moment. Not only have you seen him bare, but you intend to take him apart.

For all his posturing, he is only a man. It shows in the way he arches, hips bucking, desperate to find friction. Cock swollen and balls heavy, tip messy with precum. You lick at him, making sure to make the most obscene slurping noises you can, as if his ass was a fine meal. Daemon moans, hand desperately going to grab at the wall to keep himself upright, and you snicker.

“Tell me again how much of a kiss ass I am.” You taunt, curling one of your hands around his gorgeous cock. He is thick and warm in your grip, you can feel him throb in your hand. Your panties feel embarrassingly wet at the pure filth of the act you are performing, but also at the fact Daemon is losing control so steadily.

“You… Oh. Seven Hells. Fuck.” And it's not his fault, really. You have been steadily opening him up with your tongue, nearly french kissing his hole, only to spear your tongue right when he tries to form a coherent sentence. One of your hands keeps him spread for you, and the other is braced on his hip, to avoid him rutting and bucking. Daemon is so pent-up that if you weren't holding him, he would be humping the wall.

His hand tugs at your hair, harshly. You stop.

“What…?” He looks down at you, at the way your face disappears between his thighs, utterly confused. Then, he gives you a menacing growl, as if he were the one in control. “Don't tease, little girl.”

Daemon wears dominance well. It comes with being a Targaryen, you have realized. The entitlement oozes out of his pores. When he gives an order, he is used to at least five people jumping out of their seats to obey him. That gives any man an unstoppable confidence.

But it's not what you want. This is about rewarding politeness, not him acting like an entitled fool. You press down on the sensitive skin behind his balls, right on his perineum. You want him to beg. Not only will it teach him a lesson, but perhaps, get you railed after.

“Beg.” You order, pinching at his thigh.

“You are out of your mind if you think…” Daemon starts, but he quickly shuts up when you place a hand on his cock again. You are not what he was expecting, not what he was expecting at all. He underestimated you. Yet, he cannot say he doesn’t like what he is learning about you.

“Beg.” You insist, teasingly dragging your nails over his sensitive skin. Not enough to hurt, but to warn. Your teeth and mouth are very close to his most delicate parts, and he should remember it. “And be polite about it.”

“You will not get away with this, little girl. I’ll spank your pretty ass red.” Daemon complains, and you snicker. Funny, that he thinks that is a threat. You intend to do much worse to him.

“Oh, really? And who says you will have the chance?” Petty. Realizing you are not going to budge, and he cannot make you, Daemon lifts his hand from your head and pats you on the hair. Not an apology, no. A reward for a particularly clever pet. The game is not over yet. Not when he still has everything to play for. What is losing a battle when he can win the war?

“Please.” At his moan, you start jerking him off. It's a bit rough, without any lubricant, so you offer your hand to him, never stopping your tongue and mouth from working. Daemon catches the hint beautifully, spitting on your open hand. You go back to jerking him. His desperation is a heady thing. It gets you almost high on the thrill of it. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to get some friction on your clit. A shame you cannot touch yourself, with both hands busy.

You wish you could suck his cock, mouth watering with the sight. He has one of the prettiest you've ever seen, all flushed skin and slightly curved in a way you know would feel just right inside of you. And he is smells nice too, which is deeply unfair. Clean, yet still male and musky. Daemon tenses, cock throbbing in your hand. He is very close, about to spill all over you.

The sound of metal scratching against metal makes you jerk and pull away. Divine intervention, you think to yourself, as you get up and start rightening your clothes and hair.

“And where in the Seven Hells you think you are going?” His tone is so short and clipped, you worry he is about to pounce you. His breath is heavy. You bet, if you could see his face, he would be absolutely enraged.

“Are you deaf?” You answer condescendingly. You can hear how his teeth grit against themselves with how hard he must be clenching his jaw. “Bruxism is not sexy, by the way. You will hurt your teeth.”

“Deaf? Bruxism? What the fuck are you talking about? You just ruined my orgasm! I was so close and you, you… ” Daemon truly, truly wants to grab at you and choke you. He underestimated you. Again. Such a fool, he has been. Thinking he is leading his little lamb to the slaughter, and here you are, composed and retouching your lipstick without a care in the world. Oh, next time he gets his hands on you, he is going to make you cry.

“They are opening the door.” You answer, smugly.

“You little shit!” Daemon nearly screams. You cannot hold it any longer, and start laughing. The scratching turns louder, and Daemon hurries to tuck himself back into his suit.

When they finally open the doors, you strut out, not a care in the world. You kiss your father’s cheek, who is standing next to the security guys. Daemon glowers.

“Neither of you thought to text or call someone?” Otto asks, incredulous. He turns to you and checks you over. “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

“I didn’t hurt your precious little flower, Otto.” Daemon rolls his eyes. Now that he is standing in the light, you can see he looks slightly disheveled, cheeks flushed and standing awkwardly. You nearly smirk. “She is a cunt, just like you. If any, she hurt me.”

Otto glares at him, and places an arm over your shoulder, gently steering you away. He starts talking a mile per second, something about all meetings being adjourned because of the weather and waiting to give you a ride home. Of how worried he was, when you didn’t answer your phone and were not in your office. You hardly listen. Because your phone pings in your hand, another Instagram notification.

@caraxesrider: You will pay for that, little girl.

Your fingers fly over the keyboard in your haste to answer him:

I'm totally reporting you to the PR guys. XOXO.

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon smut #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targeryen x reader

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aethon-recs · 11 months

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Hi! Do you take asks? I really like the idea of a tomarry fanfic with a crazy harry like Bellatrix crazy, maybe even being a follower of Voldemort. If you don't have any recs on this just ignore it. <3

Oh hi, yes, I absolutely love this theme/trope. Give me Harry with the crazy eyes, give me Harry with a vicious grin and blood dripping out from between his teeth, give me a feral little gremlin boy who’s been pushed to his limits — and who then decides to push back.

And then paired with Voldemort? A match made in heaven ♡

Tomarrymort Recs with Unhinged/Dark Harry

Again and Again by Athy (M, 335k, WIP)

Harry is on his 12th reincarnation of his same old life, and he can’t figure out a way to break the cycle. By now, he’s become a jaded, bitter, and tired wizard who just wants to die. But in this life, he befriends Voldemort and is given a chance to learn how to live.

As Portioned from a Whole by @cannibalinc (E, 24k, WIP)

In which Lord Voldemort undermines the Prophecy and raises the infant Harry Potter as His; in all aspects.

Bitumen by @crowcrowcrowthing (E, 32k, WIP)

Harry finds out the hard way that dementors can’t digest horcruxes. Now separated from his body, his best option is to seek out a similar soul for help, who just so happens to be the Dark Lord Voldemort.

Damaged by @duplicitywrites (E, 26k, WIP)

All his life, Harry has been beaten and bullied—both at home and at school. New student Tom Riddle is handsome, charming, and dangerous. Harry has all the reasons in the world to stay far, far away from him. But he doesn’t.

Descent into Darkness (part 1) / Breeding Darkness (part 2) by Athy (E, 496k, WIP)

Everyone has abandoned Harry when his name comes out of the Goblet of Fire, and he feels utterly alone. Through an accident, Harry and the piece of Voldemort's soul that resides inside him begin to interact, and Harry slowly begins to change. (Note: this fic and its sequel are no longer available on AO3, but it is possible to still find it via Google.)

From Every Ruin by @officialsporkintheroad (M, 5k, complete)

Harry dies during the final battle with Voldemort, but instead of going back to the battle, he wakes up back in the graveyard in his 4th year. Confused with everything, Harry dies, only to wake up at the graveyard again. And again. And again.

Hell is Your Son from Another Dimension by @wynnefic (T, 28k, complete)

A desperate Order of the Phoenix turns to an alternate dimension to summon a hero who has the power to defeat Voldemort. They do get Harry Potter from another dimension, but it’s not entirely who they expect.

nothing left to lose by @cindle-writes (E, 11k, complete)

After the war, what Harry wants more than anything is Tom’s soul piece back inside of him. He goes to desperate measures to attain it.

Painted in Grey by @louveclaviere (M, 34k, WIP)

In a world where Harry Potter is born a few years after Tom Riddle, he becomes Lord Voldemort's most trusted general.

The Foul (part 1) / The Great (part 2) by @meles-merrivale (M, 24k, complete)

Harry travels back in time — very far back in time — and ends up in the Dark Ages. He confronts the worst combination of immortality, fate, and time travel paradoxes.

The Left Words by authoresswithoutwords (M, 235k, complete)

When Harry starts Hogwarts, he finds out that the “Avada Kedavra” on his left wrist means the Dark Lord Voldemort is his soulmate. He hides the words so that no one can see, but he doesn’t become any less of an outcast.

Uncrowned by OatMilkLatte (M, 104k, WIP)

A war between magic and muggles destroys everything that Harry had ever known and loved. He travels back in time to prevent the war, stopping at nothing to carry out his vengeance.

we who walk in shadows black by @evandarandahalf (M, 4k, complete)

In which Harry Potter is a vicious little gremlin who mysteriously knows too much, and Lord Voldemort adores him for it.

#tomarrymort #tomarry #harrymort #aethon recs #tomarry recs #tomarrymort recs #harrymort recs #hp fic recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #dark harry potter

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inawearyworld · 4 months

Text

free if you truly wish to be: chapter v

the power of a found family heist saves the day (six of crows who??) (god these summaries have become rather unhinged over the course of this fic huh)

2023!wonka x oc, this chapter ~2.3k

just wanted to say thank you to all you lovely people who've read and loved this fic! please lmk what you think, like reblog yadda yadda yadda. i'm euphrasiepontmercy on ao3 if you want to see any more of my near-embarrassingly escapist writing :) there will certainly be more wren coming in the form of playlists, pinterest boards, drawings, etc

so much love <3

part four fic masterlist

The next day, for half of a moment upon awakening, she thought the whole past month had been a dream. That she’d go on living in her unpierced golden cage, that there was nothing revealed and nothing to reveal, that things could be fine for a little while longer.

Then she heard the blaring vocal warmups of the comedian who lived down the hall.

…Okay, then.

It’s real.

She stayed up in Piper’s room, hoping to escape notice from the owners of the establishment, whom she’d never seen but hated due to their imprisonment of her friends. She’d warned them all the previous night that the Chocolate Cartel had seemed about to propose a surely sinister deal to Wonka-regrettably all but Noodle, who was asleep, and who she thought would probably take the hit the hardest, whatever hit that might be.

She wasn’t sure where to go from here.

Willy had wound up under the thumb of men who would gladly destroy him, the wash crew was nowhere near the freedom they deserved, and she herself was disgraced and thrown out by the only practical lifeline she’d had for two years, the man she’d thought she’d loved.

She realized, though, that the chain of actions that led to finally standing up to Felix was the first thing she’d done in two years that she didn’t regret.

That new sense of assurance, though, wouldn’t put any food on her family’s table.

Or her own.

And still, the thrumming in the back of her heart took the form of olive eyes, soft curls, and chocolate-dot freckles. How much danger was he in? Had he really lost all hope?

Was he even alive?

The only venture she’d made that morning was a careful one to Lottie’s room; the telephonist had snuck her a bit of gruel and told her she could borrow some of her clothes for the day. When she got back to Piper’s, she heard a large clank against the wall, and opened the window to investigate.

She was met with those same olive eyes, accompanied by a tired but teasing smile.

“We have really got to stop meeting like this.”

Relief flooded her so thoroughly that every rational thought momentarily disappeared, and suddenly Wren realized that she was kissing him.

And that he was kissing her back.

And that he was very precariously perched on a very tall ladder.

“I, ah…”

She trailed off, struck speechless by the haze in his expression that could be described in no way but adoring.

“You’re alive,” she breathed. “You’re here.”

“So are you.”

“And you feel the same way?”

“Very much so.”

Apparently unable to form any longer sentences, they fell into shaking, half-disbelieving laughter.

“Wrap it up, Romeo, a person can only keep this steady for so long,” came Piper’s voice from below, and Willy laughed again.

“Alright, I-well.”

“Yeah?”

She watched him run through the events of the past hours in his mind as he tried to sum it up, and he quickly shook his head.

“Come on down, we’ll all explain what happened. Then we need your help to rescue Noodle.”

And so they did. Once the whole crew had been informed of all that had happened, they planned and began to carry out their heist, and Wren-while still fully aware of the danger-allowed part of herself to be thrilled at finally having adventures with a found, created family like she’d read about all her life.

There were a few variables, of course-there was a plan for if Willy and Noodle were caught by the Cartel and a plan for if they weren’t, which, of course, they were. Wren flitted through various windows enough to throw a surely-still-reeling Felix slightly off his game, enough that he’d gladly drown his thoughts in the planted Hoverchocs. She also misdirected those who somehow weren’t distracted by the giraffe, allowing the Oompa-Loompa to enter the cathedral and do his part.

What she wasn’t expecting to do was help him to rescue the pair from death by chocolate.

She’d started to make her way out of the cathedral when she heard a shout of “thank you, little orange man!” from under the ground. Puzzled, she’d looked down to see a chocolate-drenched Noodle and Willy gasping for breath under a circle of glass and flooring as the brown liquid receded. She startled, then quickly came to her wits in time to break the surface and pull each of them through, all three falling into each other’s arms.

“What-”

“Oh, God-”

“What on earth-”

“Thanks, Wren-”

“What happened?”

“The plan,” Willy said, pausing to clear his throat of chocolate, “ran into a few setbacks.”

“I can see that.”

“But,” and here he reached into his vest to produce a large and somewhat soaked envelope, “I brought you this, from the vault.”

Wren opened it carefully to see that its contents were luckily mostly untouched by chocolate. Half of them she recognized as what she’d sent to her family, the things that Felix had withheld, but the rest of the envelopes were graced with her mom’s handwriting.

She’d thought she’d cried more in the past days than ever before, but apparently there were still plenty of tears left, and they all threatened to break loose upon that sight.

They’ve been writing to me all this time.

It was devastating and hopeful all at once. Her husband had spent two years keeping her from contacting her family and keeping them from the reassurance that she cared, but now that she had the letters, she could finally start to make things right.

Also in the massive envelope was a shinier letter, addressed to her from the city’s opera house, stating that a new artistic director had been hired: one who didn’t live in fear of the Cartel, had programmed Romeo et Juliette for the upcoming season, and wished nothing more than for Madame Fickelgruber to play the second title role. Not because of her association, not her relative fame, but her.

She hurriedly looked at the postage date; it wasn’t too late for her to write back and accept.

It’s not too late.

The thought, and its application to just about everything, filled her with light.

She didn’t know why Felix had kept all of this instead of throwing it out; possibly to feed his own ego, to know that his wife was in demand but he was the one that had her. Whatever it was, Willy had found the truth and held it even when he’d thought all was lost, and given it to her the moment he’d had the chance.

“And we found out why Slugworth was acting so weird,” Noodle said excitedly, still catching her breath. “We’re related, if you can believe it-but my parents really did care-and my mom, we-we found her!”

“Oh, Noodle, that’s wonderful,” she gasped, pulling the girl into a hug.

“Yeah, Willy managed to find her name in the ledger-but even after that, he kept looking around the vault until he found that envelope. Said it was for you-that we’d find your family, too.”

Tears brimmed in Wren’s eyes as she nodded to the girl with a smile of sweet solidarity. She then looked over to meet Willy’s gaze, more grateful than she’d ever been, and saw that he’d been watching her with a compassionate blend of sympathy and shared hope.

“Thank you,” she breathed, and kissed him again, heedless of the mess. “I know this will come as no surprise, but-”

“I taste like chocolate?”

“I could get used to it.”

“Okay, WE GET IT,” came Noodle’s laugh, “you like each other, it finally happened, hallelujah. Now-look!”

They all turned to the door to see the unmistakable silhouettes of the Cartel, and Willy grinned. It was time for the final phase of their plan.

The three misfits helped each other off the ground and made their way to the cathedral’s entrance, just in time to hear Prodnose’s “in which they died” followed by the men’s laughter.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

All heads turned at his voice, and Wren grinned to see all three chocolatiers pale at the sight of them.

“Wonka!” shouted Slugworth.

“Florence,” formed Fickelgruber.

“What?” piped Prodnose.

“Officer, would you kindly take a look at this?”

Willy handed the ledger he’d held to Officer Affable, and Noodle smiled as she stepped forward.

“It details every single illegal payment these men have ever made. Thousands of them.”

“Affable, don’t listen to her. She’s lying,” the Chief said, but Affable had already opened the ledger.

“Well, of course she is,” said Slugworth, his clear nervousness betraying him. Wren smirked and looked back to Affable.

“She’s not, sir. She’s absolutely right, it’s…incredible.”

The Chief blinked, then tried as he might to take back control.

“Oh. Well. Then it sounds like a case for the Chief of Police. Give it to me, Affable, I’ll take it from here.”

“I can’t do that, I’m afraid, sir.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because your name’s written down here, sir. A lot. Gentlemen, you’re under arrest,” he said, addressing the Cartel with the latter statement.

Slugworth nodded slightly, his eyes widening, and barely turned to his colleagues when he spoke to them.

“Run.”

And run they did, but they didn’t get far. Gasps went up in the crowd as the Chocolate Cartel took to the air once again, and the other trio strolled down to the base of the fountain.

“Wha-what’s happening,” Slugworth cried, “why are we airborne?”

“You didn’t eat any of those chocolates, did you, Mr. Slugworth?” Willy asked, knowing full well that he’d won.

God, certainty looked good on him.

“Why?”

“Because they’re Hoverchocs! Delayed action. But extra strong.”

“Florence!-” Felix called, the adrenaline of flight having pitched his voice up nearly an octave as he grabbed onto Prodnose’s leg with one hand and reached to her with the other. “Just forget it all, my pet, I’ll forgive you in time, don’t worry, we’ll get rid of him again and all will be well-”

He always was one for the dramatics.

And that’s something I can easily match.

She looked straight at him, made a show of removing her wedding ring, held it aloft until it glinted in the sun, and let it go, allowing it to tumble through the air and land directly on the edge of a convenient storm drain.

Felix let out a strangled gasp, his eyes not on her but rather trailing the expensive ring as it fell. From his vantage point, it was gone forever in that drain, and she was happy to let him believe that; she’d pick it up later and send it to her family.

Though, perhaps, with her dream off to a real start, she’d finally be able to make her own way in the world and help to support her family on her own accord.

That thought was sweeter than any amount of candy.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you, Wonka?” Slugworth was saying. He went on to rattle off assurances on how the Cartel could still defeat him, a frantic gloat of their societal power over him, but Wren barely heard it; she was becoming progressively more distracted by Willy’s slight and slowly growing smirk.

“I wish I’d thought of that.”

Then, with something close to darkness, he looked up at them through the chocolate that framed his eyelashes, and Wren thought for a moment that she might faint.

Noodle gave her signal, the ground started to rattle, and Wren’s heart beat faster and faster.

No going back now.

She took a last look at Felix, feeling strangely sorry for him despite herself. In another world, perhaps, he could have been given the space to regard his humble past without shame, could have used it to become a more compassionate person.

Then she reminded herself that, in this world, he had tried to kill two people and had possibly already killed many more, spent his life prioritizing appearance over literally anything else, lied to her countless times, and allowed his chocolate monopoly to uphold an elitist society.

And this world was the one she lived in.

And this world was the one in which the frozen fountain burst with chocolate, rocketing the three men who’d clung to it up and out until they were sailing through the sky.

“Don’t worry, gentlemen!” Willy was calling to them. “You’ll come down eventually, I think. Probably.”

He then turned to her and whispered, “they will.” Through all of this, he still refused to completely harm anyone. The bare minimum, perhaps, but more compassion than the Cartel would have faced opposite any other foe. She smiled and squeezed his hand in silent thanks.

With that, he threw a few ingredients into the chocolate fountain, causing it to sparkle as it never had before, and invited the crowd to enjoy.

As the wash crew came together in relief and celebration, Wren realized that the teasing phrase she’d spoken earlier had more meaning than she’d originally known.

She could indeed get used to this.

Not too much of a time later, that same group stood in that same town square on those same cathedral steps, but there was something different in the air.

The Cartel had indeed come safely down from the skies after a few hours on that fateful day, and had promptly been arrested by the newly appointed and much more just Chief Affable of Police. There was more color in the town, more music; everything had seemed a bit lighter, or maybe that was just how it felt to be genuinely living in love.

Because now, Wren Matterson was able to write back and forth with her family again. Now, she was in rehearsals for a role she adored. Now, she was coming into a state of self-empowerment unlike anything she’d ever known. Now, she spent time not perched restless on a fainting couch, but laughing with and learning from a better group of friends than she ever could have imagined, and had even worked together to reunite one of them with her own mom, which they were just about to do.

And right now, in this very moment, Willy Wonka, with tears of grateful closure in his eyes, carefully broke apart his mother’s last chocolate bar, handing a piece of it to each of these dear, dear friends. He then looked to Wren with an expression she was still bowled over by every time, and reached into his pocket.

With a soft but sparkling smile, he opened his hand to reveal an emerald-wrapped, heart-shaped almond milk chocolate.

So, no, Wren Matterson was no longer fine. She was so much better than fine.

She was free.

#fiytwtb #wonka 2023 #wonka #wonka movie #willy wonka x reader #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet fic #timothee x reader #timothée chalamet #wonka fanfic #wonka fanfiction #timothée chalamet x reader

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inevitablysomber-dark · 5 months

Text

Ladybug (Chapter 4)

Intensely Dark! Rafe Cameron x Acutely Aware! Reader

WARNING: Non-Consent, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Stalking, forced interactions, Causing trauma, unhinged obsession. MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY. MINORS DNI

Summary: After a fresh breakup with her ex, Kyle, a chance encounter leads to an entanglement between Ladybug and her friend, Sarahs, volatile brother, Rafe, who had long standing conflicts with her friends. However, what began as an accidental hookup, quickly spirals into a troubling situation as Rafe's infatuation takes a darker turn. His fixation becomes a source of distress, as his persistent harassment disrupts Ladybugs Peace.

Series Masterlist

You were tired.

Rafe continued to assault you through the night and well into the morning. About halfway through, you could no longer fight back and just allowed him to do as he pleased.

You eventually did pass out, although, you’re not sure when. However, when you do wake up, there is exhaustion in your eyes and a stiffness in your neck. Rafe had his head laid on your naked chest between the valley of your breasts.

He looked so peaceful.

So you slap him, with everything you could muster, and continue to do so until he has your arms pinned against his bed as he straddles your body still.

“What the hell is your problem?” his voice croaked.

“You’re my problem, how could you do this to me,” you push against him but fail to break free, “ I knew you were fucked up, but I never thought you’d be this bad,”

You continue to push against him, aggravation rising within.

“Be careful,” he said, his voice deep and husky. Before you can decipher his meaning you feel a hardness against your stomach, and stop altogether.

You give Rafe a pleading look, and he smirks, amused at the situation, at your distress and frustration.

“Good girl,” he says, waiting for a beat before letting you go and laying beside you. “Why don’t you go take a shower and I’ll take you home.”

You pull the sheet closer to your body trying to hide away from Rafe and he notices.

“I think I’ll be fine,” you refute “I’ll just get dressed and head out”

You couldn’t help but get a gut-wrenching feeling at Rafe’s suggestion to shower.

“You can stay a good girl and shower here, or we can stay in for the rest of the day and I can fuck you on any available surface in my room, and keep you trapped in here as my sex slave for the rest of your life,”

You pause.

“Please be reasonable, this is stressful enough for me,” you clutch the bedsheet tighter to your chest. “You already got what you want, I just want to be left alone now,” Rafe stares at you, face devoid of emotion and full of expectation. It takes you a moment to realize that there would be no way out, unless you adhere to Rafes whim. Increasingly aware of your vulnerability you make a move to head to the bathroom, pulling the bedsheet with you. Rafe quickly snatched it, taking you with it. Your head snapped in his direction.

“You don’t need the bedsheet,” he says with finality in his voice.

“Rafe,” you plead

He ignores you, pulling the bedsheet harder, leaving you naked in the middle of his room.

“Chop chop he stated,”

You quickly move to the bathroom and lock the door when you close it behind you

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, filling your lungs with air. This was unacceptable, Rafe has officially become a danger to you. You’d always known him to be unhinged but this was a different level, he’d crossed a line you’d never thought he could even approach.

You turn on the shower, and sit on the toilet, were you actually going to get in this man's shower? You really had no choice, you had to hope that once you were done, Rafe would concede and let you go, hopefully, with little issue.

So you hop in, browsing through his selection of hygiene products, eyes landing on a bottle of liquid soap. You peep out from behind the shower curtain and grab one of the washcloths that you had seen hanging over the sink.

As you clean yourself, thoroughly and efficiently, you hear a banging on the door.

“LadyBug!” Rafe shouted.

“You can’t come in here Rafe”

Rafe barges in, walking up to the tub and roughly pushing the shower curtains aside. You were scared again, you couldn’t say anything. You could just sit and watch as Rafe did as he pleased.

“Why did you lock the door?” he asked, a smirk on his face as he stared at you intensely.

He was still naked as he stepped into the tub with you. He turns your body around and shoves you into the tiled walls.

Bringing his mouth to your ear he says “I figured we could save some water.” as he forced himself inside you.

***

Rafe insisted on taking you home, you yourself insisted that he dropped you off at the bus stop or even at the entrance point of the cut.

But once he threatened to have his way with you in the bed of his truck you relented, giving him your mothers address. You knew she wasn’t home, and since you still had a few items in her house, you figured you could change out of the clothes Rafe had forced you to borrow and into your own before you head back to the Chateau.

Once you reached your mothers house, he made you work for your freedom, with a makeout session. Taking it upon himself to partake in some heavy petting before letting you go.

“I put my number in your phone, when I call or text you respond and react, I don’t want any resistance.”

“Sure” you say just ready to leave his truck.

But he grabs your chin and forces you to face his direction “Do I make myself clear?”

You nod. “ Yes Rafe.

He let you step out, and watched you walk up to your mothers porch. You find your mothers emergency key, and before you can even unlock the door, Ella Mae is on her own front porch with her arms crossed.

“Well you move on quick?” she snipes “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

For a moment, you want to say something, but then you realized you had much bigger fish to fry than Ella. So you opt to ignore her jab and step into the house. Making a beeline to your old room, to find something to wear.

Ella’s quip however had you thinking about your mother. When you were around 12 years old your father had found out that your mother had been having an affair. You didn’t know who it was so you just assumed it was some random man. But your father had no room to speak, since he had cheated on your mother while she was pregnant with you.

Though that didn’t stop him from leaving and going no contact with you and your mom 6 months after he had found out.

Maybe your mother was empathizing with Kyle, but she also knew what it felt like to be on the other side, so why would she be so complicit in Kyle’s infidelity? It frustrated you to no end, that she refused to have your back.

Once you were dressed in your own clothes, you stuffed the clothes Rafe had given you, on the floor in the back of your closet.

You made your way downstairs looking through your phone, trying to find Rafes contact. You couldn’t find it under the R’s so you started combing through them.

Then you found it Daddy Rafe

You wanted to throw up at his audacity, you stared at it for a moment. He probably put it in there while it was in his possession.

You block him immediately.

You were still confused, however, pertaining to how he got your phone open, it was locked and protected requiring both your fingerprint or a password.

You look through the window to find his truck missing, and immediately leave the house and head toward the Chateau. Ella Mae was still outside, you hear a scoff from her, but choose to ignore it.

At this point she was a waste of your time, and not worth the energy she insisted you spend on her.

When she realizes that she’d been ignored she yelled out “Whore” to you. Still you ignored her and continued on your way.

You sent a message out to the pogues, asking they meet up with you. Sarah and John agreed to do so, but Pope was busy, Kie said she was at an event with her parents and JJ didn't respond.

When you got there, you spilled everything to Sarah and John. Both were completely appalled at Rafes actions and Sarah tried to comfort you immediately.

“Have you told Kyle yet?” Sarah asks

“We broke up.” you respond

“What? Why?” she said incredulously as she hugged me tighter “You guys were so good for each other.” “ I guess not that good, cause he cheated on me with Ella Mae.” you say.

“Jesus Christ, your life is a fucking mess right now,” John Comments

Both you and Sarah look at him with disdain. He puts both his hands up “Sorry, its just you got a lot going on right now, is that why you asked to move to the Chateau.”

You nod.

“Rafe’s not gonna get away with this,” Sarah says “ I’m gonna tell my dad and he’ll take care of everything ok?”

“You promise?” you ask.

“Totally” She responds

***

The Chateau was spotless both inside and out.

You’d gotten permission from John B to clean his room and organize his fathers old office, and though reluctant at first he gave you the go ahead.However he didn’t let you into his room until he’d gotten rid of whatever he didn’t want you to see. The Bathroom was sparkling and the front deck was almost brand new.

You even did some lawn care, going as far as to primp up the chickenless coop. You eventually take it upon yourself to find John new a chicken. Apparently, JJ accidently killed the original one before you had come to know them.

You remembered Mrs. Featherstone had a chicken coop of her own with her own chickens. So you set out to her humble abode.

When you told John and Sarah what had happened, it was like a weight had been lifted off of you. Sarah told you to hold off on telling everyone else, she needed to get her fathers advice on the matter first, and see how he planned to deal with Rafe.

You were still anxious though. There was a buzz in your spine and your heart constantly felt as if it would jump out of your chest. Something felt wrong but you just couldn’t put your finger on it.

You were depressed for several days, just wanting to keep to yourself and stare at the ceiling. John, watched you with Sympathy, and everyone else seemed worried, but they’d only ask if you were alright, before going about their business.

You had to buy another Plan B, and it seemed like you would go broke any day now. You needed to make a plan, but you just couldn’t find the energy to.

So you just cleaned John B’s house, in its entirety, and now you were trying to find this man another chicken.

Once you reached Mrs. Featherstones house, you noticed her yard was wild and mangled. Her chicken coop sat in her front yard, as chickens surrounded it pecking the ground at their feets.

When she answers the door, she is skeptical at first, but eventually gives you a bit of her time. The moment you asked for a chicken, she was ready to slam the door in your face, but you managed to make a deal with her. You would clean up the front yard, and the chicken coop free of charge, if she gave you two chickens. A rooster and a hen, she says no and instead offers two hens, and if John B ever wanted more chickens she’ll just give him some.

So you set to work, you find tools in her late husband's old shed and before you know it her yard looks fresh and she is preening about the clean coop. Even the chickens seem to be happy about the ordeal.

However, by the time you’re done, it's pretty late and you’re exhausted, she gives you two of her best behaved chickens.

She was so happy in fact that she offered you refreshments in her house. You bond a little as she tells you stories of her late husband, and their kids and grandchildren. She was such a sweet old lady, and you couldn’t help but smile through her stories.

“You know” she starts “Would you mind helping me clean up around here?” she asks, gesturing to her home “I’ll pay you, though it won’t be much.”

“Totally” you said. It might not be alot, but it would be something, and at this point something is better than nothing.

You finished out the night, and Mrs. Featherstone drove you back to the Chateau with chickens in hand.

John B, was ecstatic at the new state of the house and his two new pets. “We’ll finally have some free eggs.” he says

That night you found sleep easy, most likely due to the exhaustion of the day, still you couldn’t keep away the unnerving feeling that something was wrong.

Tags:

@applelovesposts

#Dark! Rafe Cameron #dark obx #dark! rafe cameron x reader #Aware Reader #Pogue Reader #dubious consent #dubcon #manipulation #unconsent #shy! reader

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monsterfuckerconfessions · 5 months

Note

I keep having this reoccurring fantasy of being a monster, I created an OC (as far as I know) to let out all these ideas easier but it's like this.

Unique monster, humanoid but just a little off. maybe seeming a little too lanky or such, pointed ears and black hair that's just a little too dark, a little too wrong seeming.

solid black eyes and a mouth that stretches all the way up the cheeks, jaw seeming to unhinge to open it wide enough and rows of retractable teeth (think teeth like toothless in httyd) Now of course that's not all, a long, black tongue, smooth and tapered.

Here is the real bit I always get caught up with, distracting myself when I'm trying to write because my mind likes to run wild. Sheathed penis, like canines, it's completely inside until needed, but it's like a tentacle, fully controllable, and an utter tease. It appears as a cunt otherwise, until being in the mood enough for it to come out,

I used to think I was like the most subby sub, pillow princess all the way, pretty litle begging and tied up anytime, but damn does this just make me want to absolutely take control.. *now comes the actual imagine part*

My partner teasing my clit and fingering me as I'm pinned under them against the pillows, or maybe the damp, moss covered forest bed, I let them have this for now of course, I love them so much I'd do anything but when I can feel the air hitting my slick tentacle cock, I oh so easily flip us over and pin them face down ass up, ready to be bred. I start slow, teasing as I ease myself in. I keep our hips still so I can move my dick, writhing inside of them purely for my own amusement at this point.

When I start to actually move my hips, I keep it slow, drawing it out at first to hear their delicious moans. At some point I grow tired of the slow pace though and start to become more forceful, pounding them again and again, why should I care right now they've already cum? I know I'll use them for at least another hour, changing my pace or the position as I start to tire of one or another. Maybe I clamp down on their neck with my mouth, the threat of my teeth just barely there as I hold them in place.

Finally, it may have been an hour, or maybe even a few, I'll cum, spilling my seed inside and knowing that it won't take but still loving to fill my partner up. I know they could never have someone else after me, I've ruined them for anything but my own cock.

Afterwards, we lay together, and I'll gently lick all of the marks I'd have left, taking them to a spring or just the bath to soothe their aching muscles, treating them as preciously as what's mine should be treated.

fin.

#monsterfucker confessions

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gabessquishytum · 11 months

Note

Long time Lurker, first time messager, love your blog btw. Anyway I just got back from a wedding which reminded me of an au my bud and I have p much written in its entirety through text chains but the basic gist is this. Man of honor Dream and Best Man Hob for Jessamy and Matthew's wedding. Dream is a Neurotic Mess bc he Will make sure everything is perfect for his bestie, she already has enough to worry about just Being the Bride, let alone all this inane Bullshit that comes with planning a wedding. He takes his stress out on Hob, Matthew's best man who is similarly devoted if not a little less Messy about it. And of course by Take Out His Stress I mean fucking Hob every time he sees him. Cake tasting? Bathroom Handjobs. When he sees Hob in his suit at the tailors? Blows him in the dressing room IMMEDIATELY. Every wedding planning event ends with them sneaking off for some sort of quickie bc Dream just Can't Deal with it any other way. And I mean it's kind of tradition for the best man and Maid of Honor to fuck right? We had a whole thing about Feelings at the end but this is the basic premise and I thought you would enjoy ❤️

Skssks thank you so much for sending this!!! I love an unhinged horny Dream who deals with stress by being an absolute slut about it!

The best part is that Hob is just as stressed but his coping mechanisms are more like... having very sleepless nights and chewing his fingernails down to nothing. Suddenly he's having his back blown out in a public bathroom and he's like oh?? Maybe this is a better way of dealing!! And he becomes just as hornily unhinged as Dream is <33

Maybe on the wedding day itself they don't fuck until Matthew and Jessamy have been safely sent off for their honeymoon. Hob takes Dream to KFC at 2am or something and they eat fried chicken and maybe have a little cry about the wedding being all over now and it was just a lot, wasn't it?

Dream is so tired and emotional he's just like "Come home with me I need to fuck you on an actual bed at least one time." And then they just stay together forever and Matthew and Jessamy have to plan their wedding two years later <3

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft

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gayerthanevertbh · 2 years

Text

conversation with your demons - part two.

pairing | step-mom!natasha x fem!reader (romantic)

summary | you began to notice that your stepmother looks at you in a way that a lover would. though, you try to dismiss it. but you also began to like the idea of it.

warnings | DARK THEMES INVOLVED! voyeurism (non-con), slight touching, masturbation, mentions of depression, natasha just being unhinged in this part. (let me know if there’s more to add.) 18+!

notes | i loved writing this part, i had so many thoughts of words and i just AHHH i hope you enjoy this one! commenting your thoughts and all that would be greatly appreciated, mwah! <3

series masterlist | masterlist | taglist for this series

A few days after the graduation party, I was back in my room with nothing much to do other than reading and watching a few old films with a DVD set. I got tired of watching the same shows repeatedly and watched the movies that Wanda recommended to me which was good. I haven’t checked up on Natasha, but she would leave a tray of food on the ground that was in front of my door. I would take it, eat it a little, and then put a sticky note on the tray that says: thank you. I don’t know if she threw those away, probably after acting like a brat a few days ago. So, I never let that stick in me.

I came out of my cave – finally – and walked to the kitchen to see Natasha preparing for dinner, humming a song that I couldn’t understand. Natasha always had a beautiful voice, I would sometimes listen to her singing whenever I was in the living room or just near her. Although now that I think about it, does she know I listen to her sing? Hope not.

She almost turned into a startling matter and smiled kindly at me, “Hey. You got out.”

I nodded, trying to smile meekly. Responding with a tight lip smile: “Yeah. At some point, I have to.”

Natasha places the pot down on the countertop and turns away, making me look down at the ground. She speaks up, “That’s good. I’m glad you’re here to eat dinner with me, Y/N. If I’m going, to be honest, I’ve been feeling lonely and I just need some company sometimes.”

I do feel bad that I wasn’t there for Natasha when she needed it the most. We made a pact – sort of – that we will be friends but in a parenting way. Well, for her at least. I always saw her as an older friend and she saw me as this younger friend. It was funny to even think about it since she’s my step-mom. But now that mom is gone, I don’t know what else to think of her. A guardian? A friend? Maybe she’s still my friend.

I sighed as I played with my fingertips, pulling the skin slowly – not wanting to hurt myself. I whispered softly, “I’m sorry, Nat. I should’ve been there for you when you needed it.”

Her voice altered into this bright and cooler tone as she turned to me, smiling that was almost a grin but her teeth weren’t showing. She nods, gets closer to me and touches my arm, and squeezes it – as a sign of something that I can’t seem to understand. I gulped as I felt her warm hand against my skin that it was firing down my body. It felt… different. Maybe it was just me considering I haven’t had a physical touch in such a long time.

“It’s okay,” she says, but more like a whisper and her voice was huskier than before. She squeezes my arm again, but very gently – like it was as if she was afraid to hurt me. I looked at the side of my arm and began to think why was she holding me like this. It all felt weird yet so awkwardly comfortable. I looked back at her and she added, “Now come eat dinner with me.”

I waited for her while she was changing since she has been working in the house all day. It makes my stomach churn into this frenzy that I wasn’t there to help her – the guilt trip becomes overbearing for me as I try to think of something else to help me ease the stress that is punching in my head. I should’ve been there for her, I should’ve helped. But, I succumbed to this emotion that I still can’t tell whether I was sad or not. I was about to eat when I noticed Natasha coming back with a tight black tank top that defined her breasts quite noticeably. She flexes her arms as I see the trail of lines that were in it as she grabs the red bottle of wine that was in the beverage drawer. She sits beside me and smiles, pouring herself a glass of wine and drinking it – but usually, she would smell it. Instead, she just dunks it all inside her mouth; making me snort a laugh quietly.

“I hope you like my pelmeni. It took me a while to make the whole food right.”

I nodded at her and took a forkful of the cooked dough inside of my mouth and almost let out a strangled moan once I tasted the wonders that were inside that dough. I munched on it, smiling with a snicker, and looked at her with my mouth still chewing.

“Are you kidding? It’s so good!” I muffled while taking another dough inside my mouth, closing my eyes with an exaggeration. Although, it still was really good – I hope she knows that. Natasha smiles down at me and looks away, forking the dough and putting it inside her mouth.

“Thank you, printsessa.”

We remained silent for a few minutes, enjoying the food that we were presentably eating. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way Natasha’s other hand that was on the table is nearing me. Like as if she wants her hand to be holding mine. Why does she want to hold it? I know she does it by the way she’s inching herself closer to my hand – which is kind of skeptical if you think about it – but I just shrug silently and continued chewing on my food, which by the way was almost finished.

Natasha and I never really spoke about my mother’s death, maybe there was one time we did. It was always: I’m here if you need anything and that’s that. Although, I have never heard her grieving for my mom, or even just recognizing that my mom is in fact – deceased. I was skeptical – notice how I said that again – but I tried my best not to get in right through me. Sometimes, most often not going to lie, I go overboard with my thoughts that most of it isn’t even true. So, maybe my thoughts about Natasha weren’t true. Maybe she just kept it to herself – just like me.

But her actions and words don’t mend with it.

“You know you don’t have to go to college,” Natasha says with an encouraging tone. But then, changed quickly when she realized how stupid she sounded. She shakes her head, letting out a small nervous laugh. “I mean–Of course, you can. I just don’t want you to feel pressured that’s all. I want you to be at your most comfortable Y/N. So if you need a longer break, you deserve it.”

As long as you don’t date people.

It was sweet and rather kind to hear that from Natasha, letting me know that there was nothing to be pressured about. My lips remain pursed and silent, not sure if I should reply to that statement she made. I deeply thought about going to college, suddenly feeling that maybe I should skip a year to remain healthy and stay mentally hydrated or something. She will understand.

“Can I take a year off?” I asked, sounding so small but so good to hear. Natasha nods at me, smiling in fact. But, it wasn’t a gigantic smile. It was a normal smile, elegant even.

“Of course, Y/N.”

“Do you think Wanda will make fun of me for it?”

Her face softens even more and holds my cheek with her right hand, pulling me to look at her as we made eye contact. She stared down at me with her bright green eyes that suddenly darkened with how deep she looked at me. I could feel the way her thumb caresses my cheek in such an electric way that I could feel my lower stomach twisting into knots. This wasn’t just a normal touch, it was something else.

“No one will,” she says, feigned with a slight annoyance. But, hoping that it wasn’t targeting me. She sighs. “You’re going through a lot. I understand you and I’m sure Wanda will, kotenok.”

That nickname again! I shook my head that I could feel her hand slipping away from my cheek as it burned up my skin, waiting for her to touch it again. But, I thought about that very inappropriately and continued to eat my food. In fact, I jabbed my fork onto the dough and ate the last one. It was a little awkward, especially when she was holding me as if I was her lover. I wasn’t, I was her stepdaughter – whether I liked it or not. Which was, in fact, unlikable considering she’s now my mother. Yet again, we never saw each other that way and I continue to think like that.

“Have I made you uncomfortable?” Natasha asked with worry. I shook my head at her and stood up briefly, straightening my loose shirt, and walked near the stairs. She added, walking toward me: “Wait, please come back. I have to ask you something.”

I turned to her with my usual smile that’s always on my face whenever I’m faced with Natasha. I raised my eyebrows and said slowly, “Yeah? What’s wrong?”

She took a deep breath and let out an exhale that was sort of dragged. Then, within fifteen seconds, she timidly asked: “I know how much you hate sleeping alone. Do you remember when I got you a bear on your sixteenth birthday?”

I nodded, almost smiling at the memory when Natasha gave me a small brown bear that I called: bear. Eventually, I started calling Natasha that name since she bought me a stuffed toy like that. In fact, she even mentioned that she loved it whenever I called her that.

“Do you want to sleep beside me later? You’ve been whimpering in your sleep… I hear you most nights.”

There were so many questions inside my head when she asked me that. Firstly, would it be weird to sleep in the same bed as your stepmother? And secondly, I felt embarrassed that she had to hear me making noises at night. And foremost, did I ever talk in my sleep? I should download that app that Wanda was telling me to.

“Natasha, I don’t think–”

“We can put a pillow between us,” she suggested. Her voice with a sound of hope and want – I even began to think she wasn’t helping me, maybe this was an excuse to sleep beside me. Though, it wasn’t something Natasha would think, though. It was an absurd thought. “If you want to that’s all.”

“I think I would like that,” I tell her, giving her a small smile. Natasha’s face brightens once I answered her and began to step away from me – her hands rooting in her back pocket. I added quickly, “Thank you, Nat. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“So am I.”

I was in my white camisole top along with black shorts that hung around my butt. I knocked on her door softly before I could hear her saying: come in! I held onto the doorknob as if it was my life support and took a deep breath. This was going to be a normal night and a normal thing to happen. It wasn’t like we were going to do anything, right? That thought swerved around my head relentlessly until I could feel a thump on my temple. I opened the door and saw her in the same outfit she was wearing when we had dinner. Although, her hair was down and I could see her blonde locks at the edge of her red hair. She looks up at me and smiles, setting aside her book on the bedside table and patting a hand on the bed – inviting me in.

“Come here.”

My body made its way to the bed and I got comfortable immediately with how soft the mattress was. I forgot the feeling of being in this bed ever since mom died, it almost felt too scary at some point. But, I lay on the bed and tuck myself in the blanket – my head resting against the feathery pillows. She grabbed a pillow and was about to put it on our side until I quickly said:

“No, it’s okay. I mean… we don’t need it anyway.”

She looks up hesitantly and whispers and asked gently, “Are you sure?”

I nodded – frantically – answering with the same voice she had.

“Yeah, it’s okay.”

Natasha gave me a certain nod and I nodded back, turning on the side and putting my head behind my head. It felt cold but inviting at the same time, and I noticed that the room had changed after my mom’s death. The table that she always uses was gone and was replaced by a newer one and it looked a little longer and broader. When I looked around more, there was a tall rectangular shaped painting that was hanging beside the walk-in closet door. And the bed itself was not silky but the sheets were very soft. I liked how the room smelled and it didn’t smell like mom, it was more of Natasha’s smell and I loved it.

Once the lights were off, we fell into this enduring silence. I felt her body shuffling in the bed and I felt stiff because of it. I began to think that it was a bad idea to sleep in the same room as her, I didn’t know how to act or even think properly. I shouldn’t probably move too much, it might annoy her.

“You won’t disturb me while you’re moving,” Natasha says with a deeper voice. Does she sound like that when she’s about to sleep? No, she always sounds like that – I’m not that surprised. Then, she chuckles through the silence. “I promise. Okay?”

With the power I have left, I yawned and whispered near her: “Okay, bear. Thank you.”

I was surprised that I called her that nickname that died a few years ago. Usually, I’ll only call her if I want something so bad or whenever I’m in a comfortable area with her. Natasha wouldn’t care a lot about it – in fact, she encourages the name as she finds it adorable in a way that it makes her blush. I could hear a fainted sigh – frightened it might be an annoyed one – but quickly faded away when I heard her gentle voice say:

“Goodnight, bunny.”

—

The tension went on for days. Whenever I was minding my own business – like reading a book on the patio or eating a cookie dough that I made that was in the fridge – her presence would be there but from afar. I pretend not to notice it, as I find it weird if she catches me that I caught her staring, but it didn’t make me uncomfortable. Or maybe, I was being nice about this. But, sometimes I do feel a little frightened because I don’t know what her tensions are and I do not want to ask what it is. I have this slight fantasy that she touches my hips with her fingers that were trailing against my naked skin as I feel her lips–

“We should put more sugar into this batter.”

Damn it. I shouldn’t even think like that, it’s forbidden like how Eve ate the apple from the tree and was abolished from the most beautiful garden with her weird husband.

I had to gather my thoughts and shake my head, sighing rather with a grumbling sound, and pinch my nose bridge as I felt a headache coming through. I nodded toward Wanda, replying quickly: “You think so? I mean, this Crème brûlée is perfect.”

“It tastes weird,” Wanda speaks up with annoyance that erupts from her tone. She dips her finger on the batter and I swatted it, making her let out a hissing sound, and wrapped her hand around her finger. “Ow! What the fuck–”

“You literally dipped your finger a minute ago,” I said, rolling my eyes and grabbing the bowl away from her – making Wanda a fake pout that I clearly don’t even want to see; in a joking matter. “Grab the sugar and caramelized it.”

With so much distraction I had, Natasha was staring at me in such a condemning way that I had to look up and catch her eyes that were glued to me. She then notices my act and looks away – pretending she wasn’t just staring a few seconds ago and left like a dash. Was she upset? Did I crowd the kitchen too much? Wanda bumped her shoulder against mine and whispered close to my face.

“She was staring at you.”

I shrugged but could feel my body trembling as I beat the batter with a whisk.

“I think we’re making a mess,” I stated loudly. “Maybe that’s why she was staring.”

I continued to whisk the batter without even looking straight into my friend’s eyes, who is hoping for me to look at her with an answer. I quickly poured the batter into a white circular bowl and placed it on the tray that was inside the oven. Wanda notices my sudden actions change, thinking I was moving too harshly or the way I replied was too quick. She began to calculate what the situation was until it hit her that it made her stomach hurt.

“I think Natasha has a crush on you.”

I chuckled. I chuckled so hard that it could be heard from another room. My forehead began to sweat with her theory, my body starts to heat up with the sudden imagination of Natasha having an actual crush on me. It was a weird thought, and I quickly dismissed her when I closed the oven that made a loud bang! Sound.

“This isn’t first elementary school anymore, Wanda.” I said, turning to her so I can look her straight in the eye – even though my body was shaking, not in an obvious way. My voice changed too.

“But the way she looks at you is something else,” Wanda responded with a sudden drop of worry and took a step near me – her mouth close to my face. She took a deep breath and added, “Do you think a stepmother would stare at you like that?”

“Unless she was pissed off–”

“That wasn’t a look of pissed off, Y/N.” Wanda responded with a slight irritation that feigned in her tone. She crossed her arms, making me look small, and said, “She has a thing for you.”

“I don’t think it’s appropriate for that to happen.”

She quirks an eyebrow as if she was in disbelief. This is true though, it was inappropriate to be with a stepmother that was in a relationship with your biological parent. She blabbers, “Uh, I think it’s quite alright. Yeah? I mean, she’s really pretty and super sexy. And she’s kind and so loving, and you guys–”

“No, Wanda,” I cut her off, turned away, and pulled the faucet lever to wash my hands. “It’s not going to happen. I’m sure Natasha doesn’t see me that way, it’ll be too scandalous.”

Where to begin to start in that relationship? There were no similarities between us nor the fact that Natasha would ever be interested in me at some point. It will certainly be too scandalous and repulsive to the thought of even kissing her or being touched by her. It wasn’t like I was an anti of it, but because we are in this circumstance where my mother had died while still being married to Natasha. No, it cannot happen.

This is such a weird conversation.

“Alright,” Wanda sighs loudly and scratches at her nape. “Sorry if I may have offended you.”

—

“We should go to France,” I said in a bubbly voice, flopping against the dark itchy couch that was inside Natasha’s office. I laid against the headrest and threw my arms back, yawning. “I mean, just for fun. We could like… just be there for a while and forget every shit we’re going through.”

Something changed inside of me after that talk between me and Wanda. I was bolder and more reachable in a way that Natasha was merely surprised by my sudden change of actions. Though, she has said that she liked it and wanted me to keep it up. She looked up at me and smiled at the thought. Us lived in a rental beach home with the sea in front of us that looked so inviting. She could imagine it perfectly well.

“I think that’s a nice idea,” she responded, dropping her book against the table and dialing her phone, which made me a bit curious. I asked:

“Who are you calling?”

“Someone I know who lives by the sea.”

It didn’t take a minute for the person to pick up and I could hear Natasha saying: “Hey, Steve. How’re you doing?”

“Hey, Nat! I’m doing good, yeah everything’s well here. How about you? I know everything’s hard–”

“Please don’t pull that shit, Rogers,” Natasha stated, erupting in an irritating tone that made Steve gulp in such insensitivity that he had brought on the phone. Natasha leans against the office chair while mindlessly staring at me. She noticed that the hem of my shirt was almost on my ribs, the half of my stomach showing with such attention. She could feel her throat tighten, her core starting to beat relentlessly as it heats up with so many imaginations – inappropriate ones – inside her head.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned that. What brought you to call me?”

Natasha’s fingertips were on the button of her pants, silently playing with it and debating if she should touch herself while she was very close to me – she could be caught. She sighs, almost too heavily, and didn’t have a choice but to unbutton it slowly and very quietly; afraid enough to make a sound that would alert me. She sighs through the phone when she could feel how wet she was from the sight of my stomach. How much imagination she has that her lips are all over my belly button, kissing and biting it with a desperation that was roaring out of her. She slipped her hands into her underwear and tried her best to stifle the moan.

“Um,” Natasha gulps, her eyes finally hooded as she plays with herself while looking at my stomach which was almost shown by how high up my top was. “Me and Y/N are wondering if we could–Ugh–Stay there for two weeks. If you’re there with Sam and Bucky, that’s alright.”

“Yeah! I’m so glad you asked, this house gets pretty lonely these days. Maria will take a visit as well as Peter with her girlfriend. I don’t know how the kid was brought up, but apparently Stark is coming so yes it’s available for the both of you.”

“That’s good,” Natasha was close. She starts to rub her cunt at a slightly faster pace with two of her fingers that were on her folds, occasionally bringing it up to her clit where it really hits the spot. My eyes were closed from this moment and they were covered by my arm that was slung around my head. I start to heave my chest, feeling the warmness around the room but I was too lazy enough to ask Natasha. This was an advantage for the older woman who whispered on the phone, “I’ll call you back. We’ll be there soon.”

When she hung up, Natasha did her best to be quiet and continued to play with herself. Her mouth was hung open – slightly – and stared right into my bare stomach. She noticed as well that the ribbon of my panties was a little-seen, and my shorts were kind of loose because of it. Natasha rolls her eyes back and sighs quietly – her fingers relentlessly rubbing against her clit. She mutters in a quiet voice, “Fuck.” and spreads her fingers around her folds, bringing the wetness to her clit, and flicks it rapidly.

With the thought of her fucking me with her strap-on that was above average and my mouth was clung on her core, eating her out like a hungry animal – she came silently, too silently. She shuts her eyes tight, letting out a deeply strangled moan as her pussy beats with so much adrenaline from her drawn orgasm. Natasha knew very well how wrong this was, but at that moment; she didn’t care. All she knows now is that she needed my pussy badly. She wished that somehow I was a pure virgin that wants to have preyed. Her wild thoughts began to hallucinate her and finally, her orgasm died.

This was so wrong on so many levels, but Natasha admits that she has a thing for me. And to her, it was like speaking through your demons.

taglist: @sayah13 @lizzieolsen89 @marvelwomen-simp @when-wolves-howl @cmfouatslota77 @riles-is-an-idiot @ygtft-chen @aru-son @karmasgxrl @natszn @d14n4ol @hitthatsnappy @natasharomanoffswifeyyy @simpforolderwomen @fluffypanda1603 @whore4nat (i’m sorry i can’t tag any of you, it won’t work :( )

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #natasha angst #black widow x you #cwyd series #dark!natasha romanoff x reader

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dreamweaversfavsandthoughs · 5 months

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Rick and Morty S7 Ep. 9: Mort: Ragnarick

(God is dead and we killed him…and killed him…and killed him)

Turn away now to avoid the Viking hordes of spoilers ahead

My Favs

Delightfully unhinged…

This is a perfect description of the episode (and this season as a whole)

Somehow this episode combines the afterlife of Norse mythology, Pokémon, Bigfoot becoming an enemy-turned-ally and a showdown with the leader of the Roman Catholic Church into a story that is cohesive and wildly entertaining. Every single screen grab of this episode is one WTF moment after another, probably more so than any other episode to date.

…and sacrilegious

Did I mention that the villain of the episode is the Pope himself? Well it is.

“Fuck you, I’ve been tired”

Gotta love a sassy Morty moment.

Feral Clone Rick

I can imagine the conversation the director had in the recording booth,

“ Hey Ian, we’re going to need you to sound like a rabid squirrel at this moment. No, more rabid. More rabid.”

Plus, I don’t know what comment the writers are saying by implying a feral, animalistic version of Rick can make his way up the hierarchy of the Catholic Church….

Heavy Metal song during the tower defense sequence

Bigfoot being transported into Summer’s clone

Honest moment, I didn’t get why Summer/Bigfoot commented on how small her feet was the first time I watched this episode. I am slow on the uptake.

Poooooooope!

Popey Ball

I love me a corny pun and the fact that Rick had to point out this very corny, very obvious pun was icing on the cake.

Saying goodbye to Bigfoot

It absolutely killed me that they forced Bigfoot, who is just some guy at this point, back into the woods like he some stray animal. So mean!

Not My Fav

I wish we could have explored other afterlives.

When I saw the cold open for this episode I got really excited because I’m a bit of a mythology and religion nerd and I was expecting that this episode was going to be more of a deeper dive into different kinds of afterlives. It was a little bit disappointing that we only visited Valhalla and, very briefly, Jerry’s concrete and fog machine heaven. If I had written or pitched this episode I would have loved to see Rick and Morty hop around to different religions’ afterlives (Greek, Egyptian, Christian, Buddhist,etc.) and use different elements of those afterlives to harness infinite energy and defeat the Pope. Maybe in an early draft they went in that direction and it just got too bogged down and they had to cut back. Or maybe Valhalla is the only afterlife that Rick had a chance of getting into. He sure isn’t getting into Christian heaven after this episode.

My Thoughts

The concept of an afterlife is a bit tricky to develop in a show where one of your main characters is a staunch atheist and there is a scientific and naturalistic explanation for everything, including things that are traditionally associated with the supernatural, i.e. the afterlife. Of course, the explanation is nothing but science fiction mumbo-jumbo, that is said rapidly and moved on quickly, less we dwell on the nonsense too long. Nevertheless, I prefer the attempt to create consistency in the show's philosophy rather than have the writers throwing their hands in the air and conceding to the existence of the supernatural. Curious observation, we never see any deities in Valhalla and the Valhallans haven’t either since Rick is able to convince them that he’s Odin. Feral Rick being hung on a crucifix didn’t escape my attention either. It’s a running joke that Rick’s a god but maybe it’s not a joke after all…

This seems like a standalone episode but there has been a trend since season 4 or season 5 to have the penultimate episode connect with the finale, so I’m interested to see if this trend will continue. I don’t buy that Rick wants to tap into the afterlife just for the wealthy of infinite energy. Do you?

#rick and morty #rick and morty season 7 #rick sanchez #morty smith #rnm #rnm season 7 #rick and morty spoilers #rnm spoilers #mort: ragnarick

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clatoera · 9 months

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Always Remember We’re Burned for Better Chapter 15: If I’m On Fire, You’ll be Made of Ashes Too

...Hey y’all. Sorry I sucked again and didn’t post for 17 days. I had a literal breakdown over boards and worked 70 hours a week two weeks ago and! Yeah! Here we are! Back to full length chapters too so! woo.

Direct quotes from Mockingjay are not mine!

TW for Glimmer’s speech at the end (Finnick’s speech in the book/movie)

Title from My Tears Ricochet (T swift of course)

AO3

Masterpost

As always. thank you to my besties, who I feel bad tagging every week, but I don’t feel bad tagging @kentwells ever so!

Anyway...let's do it.

“We’re never going to lose these ‘mentally unstable’ bands if you keep taking a swing at everyone who looks at us wrong.” Finnick flicks a shred of bread in Cato’s general direction, sure that no one would see him dare to waste food, even if that food was a glorified crouton. “You know she isn’t here for you to impress, right?”

“Leave him alone, Finnick.” Glimmer sighs, tired of yet another version of the same conversation. Cato’s unhinged. Glimmer’s unstable. Cato’s a loose cannon. Glimmer’s not to be trusted alone. “Gale deserved it, anyway, he’s running his mouth that the two of us are together-“

“And we would never.” Cato stabs the slightly sharper end of his spoon into the tray of lunch, having lost his privileges to any further utensil when he threatened to carve out Gale Hawthorne’s eyes with the spork he had just been upgraded to. “No offense, of course, Glimmer.”

“Oh, none taken! You were never my type anyway.” She offers over her full fledged fork and goes back to ripping up the stale roll to toss back at Finnick. “Besides , they were starting the same rumors about me and you Finny, that's not a rumor we need Annie to hear when we get her back.”

Such is how they, as the surviving victors, had decided to talk. It had to become when we got them back, not if. False hope or not, it was all they had to get them through day to day life in the hell hole that is District 13. It was a light at the end of an impossibly long tunnel that was the other side of this great war.

“I’ve had worse. He doesn’t even leave a mark.” Cato brushes off, taking Glimmer’s offering with an appreciative nod. “His only value is fawning over Fire girl anyway.”

“He keeps her stable enough. Which, you know you aren't getting any closer to getting them back by going after her personal attack dog, right ?” Finnick warns, noting how Katniss sits a safe distance away from Gale at their assigned table entirely across the room, firmly lodged against her little sister’s side.

“I find it hard to believe she cares about Peeta if she’s so easily moving on.” Glimmer huffs before she rests her left elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. “I’ll never be able to love someone else. And I don’t want to. You’d have to kill me before I'd just…move on that easily. She changes her man more often than she changes her braid.”

“Oh he wants her, but she doesn't feel the same.” Finnick assures, fingers falling into a familiar pattern of braiding his napkin. It was obsessive and unintentional, but it kept him in one piece. “She feels like she owes him, I think. For getting her family out…”

“And he left Peeta’s behind.” Cato reminds, a tone in voice that could nearly be disgust if someone really wanted to call it such, if they really wanted to look for meaning in the way he refers to the families from Twelve. “Seems like a low blow, leaving behind the family out of jealousy.”

He’ll deny it, fervently, to anyone who even suggests it, but there's something about the bombing of District Twelve right off the face of the map that settles inside him wrong. Sure, they were an outlying district, but wasn’t that the whole point of Panem? All the districts contribute to a greater good, providing some sort of service to the others. Twelve and Two, while plenty different, are both the mining districts after all. Maybe the mountainside villages of Two make the shantytowns of Twelve all the more desolate, but at their core, were they really that different in what they provided to the capitol?

If twelve was so expendable..what really makes the others any different?

Glimmer is the next one to renew the lease on her ‘mentally unstable’ armband, and lose their utensil privileges, when she actually uses a fork and goes after the same insufferable district twelve boy for having the audacity to insinuate that her relationship was fake.

–

“You two are wanted in the conference room.” A guard, maybe twice their age, announces at the door of their cell– room, okay fine it’s a room, but it may as well be their prison cell.

Glimmer shoots Cato a hesitant look– noone has ever wanted them in a conference, noone has ever given a single fuck about what they have to say about anything that happens to or around them. At this point though, what would the benefit of executing them be?

“Sorry, Conference call isn’t on my schedule for the day.” Cato holds up his left arm, with their printed schedules tattooed in for the day. Not that either of them followed them– ninety nine percent of their time was spent inside these four walls of this room. “Maybe if you factor it in we’ll consider–”

“It is not an option. You are expected promptly. Failure to attend will be seen as a direct act of discompliance and will have severe consequences.”

Cato tightens his jaw before he slips his feet over the edge of the bed, nodding to Glimmer to do the same. The narrowed look of her green eyes in his direction tells him all he needed to know– she can imagine the same consequence as him, which isn’t a direct threat to the two of them at all.

They say nothing as they follow this armed man, weaving through halls and up elevators, a route they could not re-create on their own even if they combined their brain power with the intention to do so.

The door has a keypad, opened only with a scan of the guard’s eye rather than any code they can memorize and exploit later.

Glimmer glances out of the corner of her eyes as she is ushered into the room a step in front of Cato, fully taking in the physicality of the guard as she passes him. They could probably take him, if one dispatched the gun from his hands and the other got him down.

Glimmer’s mental notes were tossed to the wayside when she saw the contents of the room.

Around a conference table sat Miss Mockingjay herself, Finnick Odair, a newly sober Haymitch Abernathy, Plutarch Heavensbee, Beetee, and a gray haired woman Glimmer could vaguely identify as the president of District 13.

Her eyes must betray her absolute distrust in the members of the room, as the guard behind her grabs her by the shoulders and goes to push her to the table, when Cato’s hand encircles one of the man’s wide wrists.

“Don’t touch her.” He warns, though it comes out as a warning growl. Cato would fight, that much he had proven over and over during their months long stint in the pit of hell that is District Thirteen.

“Now there’s no need for any of that–” Plutarch interrupts, and with a wave of his hand Glimmer’s shoulders are released and she steps forward on her own accord. “Please, sit. You two were invited here as guests for this conversation..”

“Oh, Guests? That's what we are here now? Guests?” Glimmer quips, but settles herself down in one of the conference chairs furthest away from anyone else, anyone who could reach up and grab at her. Guests, sure, of the local psychiatric lock down unit maybe.

“You have both been extended a generosity by District Thirteen under our protections. And you were both granted an even larger generosity under Miss. Everdeen’s Mockingjay deal. It would behoove you both to listen to the expectations that are required of you both.” The gray haired woman begins, addressing them both. However, it is like she sees through them both, refusing to look either in the face and instead staring through as if they are beneath her, unworthy of her attention.

Something about her steely gaze and underlying threats in her tone feels familiar to Cato, and for the briefest second it is like he is back in President Snow’s office being given an ultimatum with Clove at his side.

What he wouldn’t give to have her at his side now.

“...requested of you.” Plutarch intervenes, holding out a hand to stop the president from continuing on with what Cato assumes would be demanded. “We believe that having two victors from previously Career districts openly on the side of the Rebellion could help the cause, especially in District Two.”

“And before you start with the ‘we aren’t on the side of the rebellion’ crap,” Comes from Haymitch, who is more sober than either of them have ever seen him, looking dare they say well shaven and clean, “Remember who the Capitol has. If you think they’re being treated well out there… you’ve got another thing coming. This is how we get them back.”

“The faster we bring in the districts, the closer we are to Annie. And Clove. And Marvel. And Johanna and Peeta.” Finnick offers, also somehow miraculously looking healthier than he has since their time in Thirteen began. He had mentioned being allowed outside with Katniss for a few hours– the sunlight did him some good, clearly.

“It is expected that you will do your part to help this Revolution.” The cold voice of President Coin cuts through the warmer tones of past victors and a gamemaker, staring right into the center of Cato’s face. “If you give us cause to believe that you would in any way be a threat to this cause, we would have no choice but to remove that threat, and the threat your respective partners would present as well, once we got our opportunity.”

The threat is not even veiled, but before Cato can give her the rise and reaction Coin is prodding out of them, Katniss herself chimes in.

“That’s not part of the deal. The victors are pardoned. All of us.” Her tone is not the young girl who won the game, or the girl who gave everything for the sweet little sister that even Cato couldn’t hate, no, that was the voice of the leader of this rebellion. The power and insistence of someone with a lot more pull than she’d give herself credit for.

“Everyone is doing some part,” Plutarch interjects, attempting to assuage the underlying power struggle between the President and the Mockingjay. “Katniss is going into the battlefields, she’s shooting rallying calls on the front lines. Finnick has agreed to begin doing special features on fallen tributes from each district. Pulling on the heartstrings of every district one by one.”

“Glimmer, you were very popular in the capitol, maybe you could reach them.” Haymitch suggests, with a wave of his hand. “Smile, toss your hair, whatever it takes..”

Before Glimmer can snap back in response Cato takes over, despite how she deserves to say whatever the hell she wants at this point.

“How are you even getting in? Doesn’t Snow control the airways?” Cato leans back, arms crossed over his chest firmly, a stance of both disbelief and judgment. “Do districts even have televisions for this to get across?”

“I am responsible for the creation of a lot of the airways.” Beetee explains, wheeling his chair over to access a remote before clicking on the screen. “Here’s what we have so far.”

They watch the reel of Katniss in District Eight, as a hospital is obliterated in the background. They watch her on the front lines rediscovering District Twelve, and most notably, they hear her voice filling the air as she sings a song of rebellion and lovers running to their conjoined deaths.

“...maybe your talent should’ve been singing, not Fashion.” Glimmer comments, though there is no sarcasm or venom in her own tone. It’s a compliment, a genuine one, when she says, “you have a lovely voice, Katniss.”

“Peeta thought so too.” Katniss admits, finally making direct eye contact with the career girl for the first time. “It just..it wasn’t for everyone else.”

“Look at that, this government can exploit you, too. It’s not just the Capitol!” Glimmer snorts, shaking her head before glancing at Cato out of the side of her eye.

His jaw is locked, his knuckles nearly white from how tightly he is squeezing his fist together. Something in the conversation had successfully gotten to him, and while the source of all of his self control is locked in a cell in the captiol, he somehow manages to hold himself back for once.

“Katniss…let us talk. Alone. Finnick too.” Glimmer requests, glancing between the other two young victors in the room. There’s only four of them left, maybe only four left in the whole world for all they know.

Now is the time to make new alliances.

“Absolutely not.” President Coin interjects, shaking her head furiously. “The safety of Katniss is too important–”

“They won’t hurt us.” Finnick assures, giving a knowing nod to Glimmer and Cato both. There is an understanding, an agreement, amongst the victors. “Let us talk.”

Haymitch puts his hands up to prevent any further debate or questioning. “I say we give them ten minutes. We can wait right outside the door for them, come in the minute we hear a raised voice for something being thrown.”

“Ten minutes.” Plutarch agrees, and that seems to convince Alma Coin to eventually agree as well.

“You get exactly ten minutes. Nothing more.” She pushes herself back and the elder men at the table agree, shooting Glimmer and Cato a look of diluted venom, not quite a snake but maybe a scorpion instead.

The immediate second the door is closed, Glimmer lets out a shaky breath. “I don’t like her at all.”

For the first time ever, Katniss smiles at Glimmer, in a wordless agreement. Maybe the leader of the rebellion couldn’t say it, but the unhinged victim from District One certainly could.

“What the fuck is going on out there?” Cato immediately presses Katniss, the only victor who has seen beyond the perimeter of thirteen and into the real world. “Who’s fighting, is there an actual war happening?”

“All of the Districts have joined, except for District Two.” Katniss begins, oddly at ease with two of the people who were most determined to kill her. “Two provides the army, I guess–”

“Peacekeepers, yeah.” Cato agrees, giving an unsurprised nod. That was always the other option– you either went in the games and won or the high level of training guaranteed a higher rank in the peacekeepers upon graduation. There were the outliers, training partners who resented each other for not getting into the games, who married and tried to combine their mediocre genetics to create a victor child. That had not been successful, possibly ever, but every year there were one pair who tried it. “Two won’t be easy.”

“....even One is in the war? On our side” Glimmer pipes up, for the first time verbally acknowledging that yes, she is with the Mockingjay, too. “That’s a loss for the Capitol, they rely on us for..just about anything they enjoy.”

“It was you and Marvel, Glimmer.” Finnick reaches forward to grab at the remote, shuffling through additional propos as they talk, an audio buffer to protect their conversation from the inevitable listening ears just outside the door. “It had to be everything you said before the games. They had enough of sending their children to be trafficked. They’ve sent enough luxury goods, their sons and daughters aren't going to be added to the list of their hottest commodities anymore.”

“....do you know if Cash and Gloss are…”

“We don’t. But what we do know is that the Capitol is completely cut off from everyone but Two.” Katniss adds, looking between the two.

“You two need to see this.” Finnick interrupts, before he settles on a hidden file of a recording deep in the depths of a desktop folder . “They already think Katniss hasn’t, and I know they kept this from you two. You’re a liability when you’re angry.”

“What do you mean they’re keeping something from us, they keep everything from us, what else could it be-” Glimmer is cut off by her own gasp of shock, when the screen lights up with a scene in the President’s mansion. Peeta– looking far worse for the wear, fifteen pounds lighter than he had been just a week ago on the recording, with deep dark circles under his eyes– is flanked on either side by two other victors.

Their other victors.

Glimmer is on her feet first, a look of pure horror on her face as she reaches out to the screen to touch the ghost of Marvel’s face.

Like Peeta, he is easily fifteen pounds lighter than he had been when they were lifted from the arena. And though the collar of his shirt doesn’t seem to conceal bruises the way Peeta’s does, he looks overall limp. Lifeless. As if the fight has been sucked right out of him. Most notably to Glimmer, of course, is his eyes. The shining blue of his eyes lacks the joy and brightness she had come to find her home in, the one constant source of comfort ripped from them both.

“What did they do to him?” Glimmer whispers, frantically looking around the duration of the screen for any other clue. “Are they starving them? What are they doing to him?”

Clove does not look as distinctly ill to the untrained eye. Always small, the drop in weight is not as blatantly apparent on her. Sure, the darkness under her eyes is abnormal, but anyone would see it as a normal response to lack of sleep and stress. There is some purple discoloration at the top of her black dress, that may even be passed off as a shadow rather than bruising.

But when she slightly tilts her head to the side, Cato recognizes in an instant the way the corner of her lip twitches downward for the slightest moment. It was a tell, a tell only to someone who had spent the majority of his life pulling from her.

Pain.

Clove was never one to show it, not in the academy, not in the games, and surely not for the nation.

Cato, though, knew her tells and her secrets more than he knew his own.

“What the fuck did they do to her.” Cato pushes himself to a standing position immediately, his voice barely above a whisper. For all he can growl and scream, there's something almost more haunting about the way he whispers in this moment, like a man possessed. “Why the fuck did he touch her–”

“It’s a message to us,” Finnick has to explain, as Katniss locks her gaze on her feet and never at the screen. “They don’t say anything, Peeta does all the talking, but look at them. It’s a message, Cato. You’re here, you are guilty, and she is going to pay for it.”

Katniss does not look up, she can’t stomach to watch the violence that has occurred to Peeta yet again. Peeta, who has suffered for the crime of loving her, for the crime of being too good.

“I’m going to kill him.” Cato snarls, and though it isn’t said it is immediately understood who he means.

“You’re going to have to fight me for it.” Katniss chimes in, though she continues her lock on the floor while Cato and Glimmer keep their eyes locked on the screen.

“Why aren’t they speaking?” Glimmer half whimpers, unable to tear her eyes away from the remnants of her loved ones on the other side of the screen. “Why aren’t they saying anything!”

“Because Peeta’s the mouthpiece. Peeta is to the Capitol what Katniss is here. They started this rebellion, they have to represent it. They’re a message to you two, and you two only.”

“...has there been any sign of Annie? Or Johanna?” Glimmer tries, though her heart is with the dulled eyes of the man she loves on the screen.

The silence that follows provides the answer they needed, without ever needing to even be said.

“...I’m in.” Glimmer agrees in an instant, backing away but not breaking her gaze. “Whatever you need from me, I’m in.”

“We have to get them back.” Cato begins, though he has also moved to a standing position right in front of the tv. “I’m going to get her.” And though he’s made the threat before– and been shot down at the idea– the demand has new meanings. They need to get them and do it fast. “....I don’t know what I can say or do on these stupid videos. I have no big story. I don’t think I’m much help…”

He wants to argue, he wants to come up with an excuse as to why he’s no use, but he can’t. He’d do anything for that psychotic girl, walk to the ends of the earth for her, if it meant she was safe in his arms.

“Fuck it, I’m in.”

They never planned to die by being suffocated alive in the tomb that is the bowels of District 13 in a bunker, if they were dying it was in glory in the games or at their own hands on their own terms.

Cato, Glimmer, and Finnick were resolved to their own tiny corner, much like the lunch table, where none of the other citizens would dare come near them.

Cato sits on the floor, the heels of his hands digging so deeply into his eyes that it stung. If there were any light– which there is not– Glimmer would have been able to see the way he is digging into the skin of his hairline, like he wants to peel his skin from his skull.

It had been a nightmare to get him to agree to come under ground after the disastrous interview.

Peeta had been flying solo in an interview yet again, though Clove and Marvel must’ve been nearby. When whatever trance Peeta was in broke, he had warned them of their impending death, and the feed cut out as fast as the Capitol could manage.

Not fast enough, of course, to drown out the blood curdling scream in the background of Peeta’s broadcast. It would have been ambiguous enough, with no face to the name of an anonymous woman, until the single word she managed before the broadcast cut came across clear as day.

Cato.

Him. She was calling for him. Screaming for him, really, and here he was. Unable to get to her. Unable to help her.

“She called for me.” Cato repeats, over and over and over again, bordering a state of catatonia and hysteria as he refuses to get off the ground.

“I know.” Glimmer sighs, a half hearted agreement. There was nothing she could do, to ease his comfort. It was clear as day– Clove had screamed his name from deeper inside the President's mansion, and it was clearly a call of desperation.

Clove would kill her if she called it a cry for help, even if for all the world that is exactly how it sounded.

While it could have been a warning, like Peeta had given. A dead girl walking calling out in warning you too, Cato, he’ll kill you too. It could have been confirmation of what Peeta was saying.

No matter what her intention, it did not change all Cato could hear.

She had been his longest friend before she was his world, his longest ally, and they had always had each other’s backs. That was a plea rooted deeply in their childhoods, deeply in the core of who they are.

That was not a cry of a desperate girl, that was not the scream for her lover. That was a scream and cry for her partner, the one person in two she was supposed to be able to rely on to be there if she got in too deep of trouble.

And he failed her.

Not as her life long best friend, or as the man who married her.

He failed her as her partner.

He is only pulled from his self effacing spiral by the feeling of something soft brushing against his calves.

He nearly flinches when he realizes it is the tail of a soft little animal against his legs, and not some sneak attack.

A purring noise immediately betrays the creature as Katniss’s sister’s cat, the only pet in all of thirteen. The little thing didn’t like Katniss and so it already earned a bonus point in Cato’s book, and he thinks of his own little sister every time he sees the little blonde that belongs to the girl on fire. He gives the cat a half-hearted pet, remembering how desperately his sister had begged their parents for a cat for her fourth birthday, and how he nearly bought her one with his winnings a few years prior.

He lets himself think of the dog he and Clove will never get to have and begins to give the cat a more diligent pet in honor of the future they have lost.

He failed her. He failed her. He failed her.

He’s lost her.

The four of them, the surviving, youngest victors, are led above ground before anyone else is given clearance. It of course had to be deemed safe before they let precious Katniss Everdeen step foot above ground.

“What the fuck.” Is the first thing Cato thinks to say, when he takes in the surrounding destruction. Where as he had expected the smoke and ash, nothing could have prepared him for the blanket of white that littered the smoking land. For a second he wonders if it is snow, if somehow a nuclear winter has fallen upon them, but the warmth of the air pushes that idea right out of his head. He’s acutely aware of the team of videographers focused in on Katniss, priming and prodding her to make some statement about surviving an attack by the capitol.

There is a soft crunching under his foot, and when he sees the slightly luminescent spray of white rose petals under his heels, he realizes (though he does not understand) that they are walking in a sea of white roses. He is about to pick one up, to run the unnatural petals between his fingers, but he is immediately startled by the panic coming from Katniss just over the rocks.

“He’s going to Kill Peeta. I can’t do this–”

Cato steps forward, over the edge of the rocks to catch a glimpse of Katniss, as she slowly starts to unravel before the cameras.

There is a woman with a half shaved head with a camera in the girl’s face, prodding and poking at her to brag about the survival of the center of the rebellion against a direct attack from the Capitol, but Katniss is fading fast at their insistence.

“He’s going to kill him, because I’m the Mockingjay. I can’t do it.” Katniss utters as she staggers away, trying to avoid the cameras shoved in her face and their persistence.

Haymitch Abernathy takes her by the shoulders, and leads her out of the way of the Camera, but it isn’t enough for Cato.

Because if they’re going to kill Peeta, they’re going to kill Clove too.

He pushes the camera out of the woman’s hands, not enough to break but enough to be indisposed just for a little while.

“She isn’t fucking doing it,” Cato reaffirms, hand still resting on the camera equipment, not breaking it but not opposed to doing so.

Finnick leads the camera crew away before Cato can make any permanent damage to the equipment or the war effort.

–

“Why the fuck didn’t you let me go, I’ve been threatening to go for months and you left us behind!” Cato pushes firmly in the middle of Haymitch Abernathy’s chest, cornering him into the wall. “I should be there! It’s my fucking job, she’s mine.”

“You couldn’t be trusted not to go off on your own, Cato.” Haymitch explains, gently placing his hands on the young man’s shoulders. “It was impromptu, there wasn’t time to get you properly trained.”

“Properly Trained? I gave my entire life to training for this! I know what i’m doing–” He snarls at the older victor, and without Enobaria and Brutus here to cool him off he might just carry through on his most intrusive of thoughts, the ones that say to crush the man’s skull against the concrete wall. “I’m better trained than anyone in this hell hole.”

“You aren’t reliable. You’ll throw the whole mission to get to that girl, they couldn’t risk it.”

“Let me make something so incredibly clear. I will throw any mission, I would throw this entire district, I would let this rebellion burn to the ground if it meant getting to her. I do not give a single fuck about any other person in this entire district, but her.” Cato drops his grip on Haymitch, letting the man relax against the wall. “If they leave her behind, I am going to kill every single one of them. That’s a promise, Haymitch. I don’t need a sword or a knife or a gun or a fork. I will kill them.”

“That's exactly the problem, Cato”

“What is he doing..” Glimmer whispers, wiggling her thumbnail between her bottom front teeth. Her nails bleed from her biting to the quick, watching as Finnick commands the attention of the camera and the media screen behind them.

“It’s to distract while they’re in the training center,” Someone, Glimmer doesn’t care who, informs her.

Listening to his words, with his allusions and language with only insinuation, she wipes the blood of her fingers on the sad gray of her clothes, and steps forward.

“Put me on.”

Beetee quirks his head at her, and Plutarch gives her an unsure look, not quite trusting she knew what she was offering to do.

“Finnick has it.” Plutarch assures with a patronizing half smile, before redirecting his attention to Finnick and the broadcast going out to all of Panem.

“We were told to do our part, this is mine. Put me on.” Glimmer once again insists, this time walking herself right into the eyesight of the camera.

They cannot stop her when she steps in directly next to Finnick, as he recalls stories of secrets shared as late night pillow talk, as the exchange for his service.

“Stop sugar coating it.” Glimmer demands, stepping into the light of the camera.

The girl presented to Panem is a far cry from the beautiful bombshell of a victor she was once paraded around as. Once perfectly manicured nails bleed from the quick she had bitten them too. Once perfectly shiny, bouncing curls fall in two half braided pigtails, with crinkled waves going the length of her hair, frizzy ringlet curls framing her eyes. There is no perfectly winged eyeliner, eyelash extensions, or expertly applied blush.

She is not a shimmering shining prize, but she is still Glimmer.

“Finnick is so considerate as to give you a filtered version of what happened to us. I’m not. We weren’t just ‘sold’ to the highest bidder. I was brutally, violently raped. From the time I was fifteen years old. I have been held down until I screamed, and I have bled and begged people to stop. My sister, my brother, Finnick, Marvel..and countless others. We are not being rented, we are being violently abused. There is a trafficking ring of Victors. Starting from our childhood. I was fifteen. Fifteen years old! Finnick was Fourteen! We were children!” Glimmer catches Katniss out of the corner of her eye, who has a whole new layer of horror painted on her features. Katniss nods at her, to keep going, because if she is enraptured so is the entirety of the capitol.

“It doesn’t stop there! My entire life has been this. I’ve been sent to procedures where I don’t even know what they did to me! I’ve been drugged unconscious for days! I have sat in bath tubs full of my own blood, and woken up in sheets so wet with it that I couldn’t stand the next day! We lose our childhood to the games, but we lose our innocence to them! Seven years. Seven years of horrific abuse, and if I didn’t? Then my parents die. Then my older sister and brother, who already did all of this to protect me. They go after the people you love. Call this what it is. It is violence and it is abuse.”

Together, Glimmer and Finnick offer a passionate plea.

Finnick exposes name after name of a capitol official and bought him, listing the secrets of each and every one. Between stories Glimmer accounts graphic details of a girlhood lost, of specific moments of begging for death after fighting so hard for her life. Finnick exposes the President himself and his history of poisonous treachery, while Glimmer recounts the long nights and the aftermath of such horrific, harrowing moments of her young life.

Ultimately they lose the broadcast until Katniss steps in and directly asks for the President himself.

Glimmer steps out of the light, and realizes for the first time that she has tears running down her face, uncontrollable and unstopping.

Cato can’t help it, when he grabs her and pulls her in what could pass for a hug. He’s seen Glimmer as, well, Glimmer, for a long time. A career victor from One who had gone through a little too much at the hands of the capitol. Something about her now, though, goes deeper than that. She is someone’s little sister, someone’s little blonde sister who was robbed of the sweetness his own was so remarkable for. He is all too aware that he may never see his own again.

She is a brotherless sister and he is a sisterless brother, who would give just about anything to make sure his little blonde baby sister never even knew the kind of horrors Glimmer experienced even existed.

He watches over Glimmer’s head, as Katniss pleads her case to the president directly.

“You asked me to convince you I was in love with Peeta. Haven’t I at least done that?” Katniss questions, and there is an earnestness in her voice that even Cato cannot ignore.

Maybe she had convinced them all.

The next words Cato picks up on send a chill to the very root of his spine.

“Don’t you think I know your friends are in the tribute center? Cut them off.”

If his blood could run cold, it would have. As the feed cuts out, and Katniss begins to spiral- “He was taunting me, he knew the whole time!”-- and the reality starts to come from Beetee– “we can’t communicate with them” it all falls into place. The seemingly unbroken communication, the opportunity to plead directly with the president of the country..it all made more sense as reality set in.

It was a trap.

They were never getting them out.

“They’re dead.” Glimmer whispers, pushing him back and turning to face the screen. Her sob catches in her throat before she even realizes it is coming. “They’re dead, we aren’t ever getting them back!”

The four of them are corralled into a single, padded, locked room on the same level of the command center using various levels of sedatives.

Hours pass, maybe. They can’t be sure, in their windowless room, with some drug coursing through their system.

Finnick rocks and ties his knots, and Katniss has gone catatonic, resting her chin on her knees, humming that creepy death song from the propo she filmed what seemed like ages ago.

Glimmer lays against a wall, tears freely flowing from her eyes, matching the level of helpless she feels deep in the core of who she is.

Cato paces. Whatever they calmed them down with has started to wear off in him, based on his sheer size alone.

“When did you know you loved Annie?” Katniss nearly whispers to Finnick, voice and face flat in affect. “Was it immediate?”

“No. It was gradual. She snuck up on me.” Finnick nearly smiles, but then passes the question on to Glimmer. “What about you? When did you know?”

“We were friends for a long long time at first. I would sleep in his room a lot. Nothing ever happened and then..well It was actually during Clove’s games. I looked at him one morning and I realized that I wasn’t afraid when I was with him. He was right there, right in front of me the whole time.” Glimmer nearly smiles, but the tears do not stop. “Come on Cato, like we weren’t all there.”

Cato stops, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand for a moment. “We uh..we were fifteen. We trained together since we were ten, you know? She was at my house with my baby sister and I realized that I knew exactly how many freckles she had on her face. One hundred and forty seven. That isn’t a normal thing that you notice about someone.”

There is a soft silence that befalls them, as if it hits them at once that they are giving eulogies to the love they have lost.

“....It was on the beach in the Quell. That's when I really knew.” Katniss offers without prompting, the softness in her voice confirming what they had slowly grown to accept.

Somewhere along the line- during the quell, apparently– life began to imitate the art of the star crossed lovers' performance.

Time passes slowly in thirteen.

How long exactly, none of them know.

The door swings opens without so much as a knock, and Haymitch lets himself into the room of sedated, miserable victors, before he announces:

“They’re back.”

#clato #cato and clove fanfic #clato fanfiction #thg fanfic #thg au #ARWBFB TAG #always remember we're burned for better tag #glimmer and cato are bonding #trauma bonding besties #its almost time for..the reunitings

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itsmaferart · 2 years

Text

SxF · · Mission 68 · · Everything is for Yor!!

Alert: This contains spoilers from the manga

Well, we didn't get the Yuri and Fiona meeting. But at least we did see these two crazy obsessives in continuing chapters. And it really paid off for me!!! This chapter was hilarious!!

Thorn Princess returns!

I really appreciate Endo starting to show other facets of our lovely assassin. We usually see Twilight's work and how exhausted he is, so we don't usually appreciate how hard it is for Yor to be an assassin. Already in other chapters we have come to see her so dizzy from the exhaustion of her battles. It also supported seeing Yor's injuries on occasion, so we can empathize with her work.

Although Yor seems powerful enough to throw a ball into outer space, she still receives considerable injuries. I guess in the Spy x Family universe, there are high-level opponents to hurt the legendary Thron Princess. However, despite the magnitude of damage Yor receives in her confrontations, she ends up receiving minor injuries, such as spraining a finger or having her wrists inflamed. The most serious we have seen her receive was the bullet in her beautiful butt, the impact of the samurai's katana and the cut on her chest, and yet she only felt tired the next day.

I see that Yor always feels that she has to recover in one day from her injuries, I don't know if she has a very high healing capacity or if she puts too little effort in taking care of herself.

Brothers unhinged by love Vs. Perfect husband who doesn't understand what the hell is wrong with his brother-in-law

We all wish Twilight had held Yor's wrists really tight during a heated night of passion. But that's fanfic material!!! ( ͡' ͜ʖ ͡').

I really like it when Yuri appears, although I know that many differ from my personal opinion (which is fine, and I respect it).

That guy just kills me with laughter, he's such a jerk!!!!

It honestly kills me his personality is so over the top and erratic, and being fair, he does produce beautiful Twiyor moments (which he ends up interrupting himself in the end). His craziness for Yor and his personality I think is deserving of its own analysis like Fiona's.

Lesson 1: If a Briar enters the kitchen and holds a knife, it is an imminent danger!

I think this chapter perfectly evidences that Yuri's complex for Yor is not that he is "in love with her". Although many interpret it that way.

Yuri's dilemma lies in seeking to make sense of his existence through his sister.

Already in past chapters Yuri has shown in flashback that he has always felt vulnerable and small in comparison to all that Yor has done for him. Although Yor does not perfectly execute tasks such as cooking, she has worked and made an effort to give Yuri a decent life to grow, study and become a professional.

Considering that Yor probably came home tired, full of blood and minor injuries, plus her brutal strength to break his brother's ribs, Yuri has always compared himself to Yor, feeling insignificant. Being a grateful brother, he strives to repay everything Yor ever did for him. So he wants to feel that he is taking care of her and protecting her, and seeks imaginary enemies to vent his own frustration on.

Lesson 2: Variety in your food is not synonymous with good taste

Lesson 3: Do not leave sharp chopsticks, fish heads and bones in food

I think it's nice that canonically we have a chapter of Yor being taken care of by her family. Too bad Yuri ruins it with his: Let's go compete!!!!

I really feel sorry for Yuri, because he really wants to cook with love for Yoru. But Twilight is a professional chef and pampers his wife's palate every day with delicious delicacies. She is already getting used to the attention Loid gives her.

Such a sweet mother/daughter moment! Glad to see that when Anya forgets the competition between her and Yor. She loves her sweet mama so much and feeds her with so much love.

Open wide... Ahhhhh

Ohhh! Poor Yor, she's having a fit of : Lo-loid?!!! Loid is going to feed me?!!!! Mouth?!? Loid!

My queen! She's so in love with him, she can't help but feel so embarrassed that Loid does these romantic things for her, even when he's putting on that serious face. Twilight and his expression of: for the mission!!!!

Yuri mode: My life went to hell!!! I hate you perfect Loid Forger!

Lesson 4: Basically if you challenge a Forger at his own game you are going to end up with a resounding and humiliating failure.

Becky, Fiona, Damiand and Yuri know it.

Yor treasures Yuri, and always thinks of him first: When she thought her marriage will be sabotaged by Fiona, she thought of Yuri and making him care again; when she thought she would die in battle during the cruise, the first one she thought of was Yuri. She even considered giving up being an assassin as she felt Yuri didn't need her. The Forgers are not there to displace or take his place. Each one of them is there to help and take care of Yor (Whether it's for the mission or not).

However, it will take a while for Yuri to understand that.

Just look at those expressions, for crying out loud!!!!! He is so crazy and clinging to the slightest idea of surpassing Loid Forger!!!!

Someone give him some help and psychological support.

♥♥♥ Shojo love filter ♥♥♥

I wonder if the beautiful atmosphere surrounding Yor, is it a product of the shojo filter of love? (I know the obvious answer is yes) Since these moments always happen when Twilight (And Yuri) are looking at Yor. I don't think it's Yor being especially cute, but her being so sincere that they are dumbfounded at the sight of her angelic beauty.

If so, it would imply that Twilight has looked at Yor through the eyes of love: as the purest and sweetest woman in the world. (Similar to Damiand looking at Anya).

But he is so blind, he doesn't realize it himself. At least Damiand, he was so overwhelmed with his love that he ended up collapsing (Although he is a child, is reasonable).

I really hope that if Twilight in the future has an epiphany, he will understand that that shojo filter is not usual for Yor, but him in love.

But I am placing too many aspirations on a blind man who does not want to see.

Conclusion: While, it's not a chapter that moves the plot forward. It's fun, refreshing, and right-sizes Yuri's character, really exposing his complex and the wrong way he deals with his frustration.

What is your opinion?

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bigassbowlingballhead · 1 month

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"give grace and don't assume malice"

I love this HT 🥹. Completely unrelated, and I don't know if it's because I'm drained over work kicking my ass these weeks or something else, but I love this approach.

I'm not even in the fandom, I just love Taylor and Nick, and reading weird and hateful comments about them these past days, and completely disregarding what they've said and done just because of reasons actually made me sad. It did not even affect me, but made me sad as in, "Fandoms used to be fun and sweet and now it's a place where people want attention and argue over who is the loudest among them."

So thank you for being fun and insightful. We need more people like you in these spaces: Someone who knows how and when to take a joke, have fun, and be unhinged, but knows when to say these things, so people have more perspective on online situations. And especially someone who can set boundaries.

people are SO quick to jump to attack to defend their favorites at a perceived slight and which i get the urge, I do. I spent the last couple weeks under a barrage of just cruel words about taylor that felt like were being directed at me because they were doing it in my (and others) inbox.

Thank you so much for you kind words, I feel so lucky to have curated this space where we make silly little jokes and have some fun.

I try to stay out of a lot of fandom discourse, as I am old and tired and just don't have the energy for the negativity, so that give grace and don't assume malice as kind of become a go when i scroll the tag and see some outlandish takes, unless they're just straight up cruel, then they get a block.

#thank you fr tho this is so sweet #🥹🥹#box talk

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inkblackorchid · 11 months

Text

So... about season 3 Aki.

Ok harsh contrast to my previous, excited post, but I did say I had more to yell about episode 75 and I need to get this off my chest anyway. Plus, I remember mentioning in a post that I need to talk about season 3 onward Aki anyhow, so might as well do that now! I am thinking Big Thoughts and I need to Scream.

Long, incoherent, unhinged rant incoming because I have 100 things to say and 100000 screenshots to post, but I am also tired and my brain is mush.

Can we please talk about all the jarringly unfulfilled setup the start of season 3 did for Aki? Because I'm starting to feel an urge to claw at the walls. I'm gonna go through this, piece by piece of damning evidence, because I need to vent my utter confusion and frustration somehow, I guess. Okay. So.

After giving us a bit of time to settle in after the timeskip into the pre-WRGP stretch of things, the itty-bitty portion of the story Aki occupies at this point starts off arguably strong. Yusei gets kidnapped, everyone's in a frenzy about it, but Aki's especially worried.

Then this. Funky new signer powers! Nobody's been able to do this before! I wonder if they're going to do something with that! (Spoiler: They're not.)

Then Aki "no sense of self-preservation" Izayoi gets herself in a bunch of danger trying to rescue Yusei and we get this:

Oh! Wow! Aki can control her powers now! (Which: how. Why did they never show us this. That alone could have made for a whole mini-arc. Why waste that????) That would give the writers so many cool opportunities to let her use them! I wonder if they're going to do something with that! (Spoiler: They're not.)

(Side note: I love this scene. I love it to death. They're both ride-or-die "who cares for my safety when yours is on the line" for each other and I love them.)

Of course, shenanigans then ensue, leading up to Sherry's marvellous introduction.

(Mwah. I blow her a little kiss.)

And it is at this point that Aki Has An Epiphany.

And to top it off, she gets some interesting interactions with Sherry, too!

So Aki resolves that she wants to become a turbo-duellist, too. And the thing is, this isn't a little one-off thing or something they never deliver on. They end up building this up for several episodes, bit by bit. First we get another mention of it at the pre-WRGP press thingy they all attend:

Then it's brought up again when Yusei accepts the first duel against Bruno/Antinomy:

(Also, side note again, but can I just mention that Aki also gets this moment the episode before:)

(Where she literally puts herself directly in harm's way in a public setting to protect people with her powers??? Like, I'm sorry, pinch me or something, but how does that not scream "badass good girl setup"???? HOW?)

So we get at least three episodes worth of buildup where Aki agonizes over becoming a turbo duellist to understand what her friends (but especially Yusei) are feeling when they duel like that, and then they finally deliver on it and episode 75 has her getting her license. And it's fantastic. Seriously. That episode is golden. Not just because it delivers on this promise, not just because it has a really cute moment between Aki and Yusei in it (regardless of how you read their relationship dynamic), and not just because it (as per my last post) showcases how much the rest of Team 5Ds cares about Aki (by literally building a runner for her and accompanying her to her exam and don't even get me started on Jack beating up those jerks trying to make her crash unprompted) but because it gives us just that smidgen more detail about Aki's character, too. Because the thing is, at first, she majorly sucks at driving.

And not only is this realistic to a degree (learning to drive is hard, regardless of what you're learning to drive), it's also great, because you know what Aki's response to it is?

She keeps going. She doesn't let it get her down, she gets back up and tries again. (And from a writing standpoint, this is lovely because that stubbornness is great in situations like this, but you could easily turn it into a weakness in a different scenario if you wanted to.)

And not only does Aki learn driving the hard way here, she also finds herself confronted with jerks who don't want her to succeed,

(Ruka, sweetie, I love you.)

and she makes an absolute rookie mistake during her exam by trying to play a speed spell when she doesn't have the necessary speed counters.

And feel free to disagree, but I think this is also great. Because honestly? While driving a really damned fast motorcycle that I'm not super used to yet, and being expected to make solid tactical judgements in an overcomplicated card game—the rules of which are slightly different when you're playing it on a motorcycle—at the same time, I would likely also mess up like that and accidentally try to make an illegal play. But the thing is, the episode rewards her for sticking it out anyway by letting her pull off a really complicated driving manoeuvre to save herself from her envious turbo-duelling-license colleagues' cheap tricks, and by letting her score a really nice win from a tight spot, much like any of the boys would have in her position.

(Take that, you jerks. Dumbasses only get blurry screenshots.)

So Aki gets her license and is welcomed by the team as a fresh turbo duellist. Hooray!

(I love them all so, so much, help me.)

And we also get this:

Wouldn't you know it! Sherry's been watching Aki get her license with interest! And she seems to be mighty pleased with the result!

So. After all that, I don't think you could blame anyone (it's me, I'm anyone) for getting really excited about what Aki's gonna get up to from this point outward. Aki can control her powers now! And she got her turbo duelling license! And we've got a new, enigmatic side character who seems like she could have super interesting interactions with and play off Aki! I wonder what they're gonna do with all that.

*deep breath*

Sigh.

Seeing as I already know this show like the palm of my hand, I kind of dreaded getting past this episode because I know exactly what happens to Aki from this point out: Nothing. A whole lot of nothing. Okay, well, no. See, I went back and checked all the episodes I have left, just to make sure, just in case I forgot something (very likely when you've already watched the show three times, I know).

From here on out, during the entire pre-WRGP, WRGP, and Ark Cradle arc, Aki gets exactly three things to do:

She uses her shiny new turbo duelling license to fill in for Crow at the Team Unicorn match because he got injured. Which, on paper, is a perfect way to let her have the spotlight for a moment. Except, the only thing she gets that spotlight for is to last a hot four turns in the duel before losing spectacularly to Andre and literally never turbo duelling again for the rest of the show. (Like, yes. The moment where she summons Stardust Dragon is chefs kiss and legendary. But in light of the surrounding circumstances, it feels like a consolation prize to make up for the ensuing character trainwreck.)

Since Crow is technically still injured when they're meant to go up against Team Catastrophe, Aki trains to fill in for him there again. Except! They intentionally make her crash right before the duel, putting her in a short-term coma! And as the icing on the cake, when she wakes up, it also turns out she lost the powers she was only just able to control for absolutely. no. reason. None. They never bother explaining it, they don't even try to hint at why they might have vanished. (I have my own theories for why they had to let her powers vanish and they all start and end with the words "we couldn't be bothered to figure out how to write this character".)

At the very end of the show, the very end, after temporarily fridging Sherry, too, they dig both girls back up in order to let them participate in a three-way final boss duel with Crow. (Which is a fantastic duel, I love it to pieces. Genuinely.) You could argue that they tried to cash in on all the intrigue they set up between Aki and Sherry here, but—come on. At the end of the show? Seriously? Oh, and did I mention that for some reason, Aki's powers mysteriously reappear after this duel? For no reason? Again?

I just. It does not compute. They went as far as doing all this setup, letting Aki get the hang of her powers, letting her get her license, making her part of Team 5Ds, even giving us a new character that seemed like the perfect fit to let her bounce off of—and then, like some sort of kafkaesque reverse-miracle, they somehow managed to take a sharp left into "whoops, don't care about this character" and nearly wasted the entirety of that setup in one fell swoop. If it weren't for that finale saving at least a smidgen of it, I'd be holding a torch and a pitchfork over here. (Hell, I might, even knowing that Aki's final duel in the show is kickass.)

Please tell me if this is just me (15 years after the show released, I know, leave me alone), but this feels like they were literally loading Chekov's gun directly within view of the audience, only to later procede to toss the damned thing into the sea instead of firing it.

Okay. Okay, I think I'm done. For anyone who actually bothered with the whole post, first of all, thank you for your attention, secondly, sorry, but this does, indeed, still bother me ten years after I first found this show, so I had to get it out or it would have eaten at me forever. God damn it.

Anyway, if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to writing fics where Aki actually gets something to do right this second. If anyone's interested in giving a fic series where Aki gets a separate character arc that tries to stay mostly canon-compliant after the defeat of the dark signers a go, you can find my stuff here.

#yugioh 5ds #aki izayoi #akiza izinski #ygo 5ds #character analysis #orchid watches 5ds (again)#orchid rambles #setup and no payoff is one of the worst things you can do to me in media #I get so unreasonably maaaaaaad #they literally gave themselves so many opportunities to do something with Aki #and then they wasted them all #also shameless plug I know #look I'm just trying to attract more people who will yell about Aki with me #that's what I do here #ok I'll shut up now

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