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chicgeekgirl89 · 3 days

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Chapter 4 is up!

Tagging: @lemonlyman-dotcom and @kiwichaeng

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[6:22pm] Why do smoke detector batteries only die in the middle of the night?

T.K. is chowing down on some of Paul’s chili when his phone buzzes in his pocket. His dad is regaling the table with another of his New York exploits, this one about a rather scandalous call at a night club. T.K. had been off that night, but he’s heard the story so many times he could probably tell it word for word.

“An unbelievable amount of glitter,” his dad says as T.K. slips his phone out. As soon as he sees the text he smiles.

T.K.

[6:23pm] Are you speaking from personal experience?

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[6:24pm] Yes. Two o’clock in the morning last night. Even though I change them every six months. Took me fifteen minutes to figure out which one. So tell me firefighter, why?

T.K.

[6:25pm] Bad news. Smoke detectors are sons of bitches. They’re like Santa. They see you when you’re sleeping. They know when you’re awake. And they choose to use that information for evil.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[6:26pm] That seems like a major design flaw for a life saving device.

“Why are you smiling at your crotch?” Marjan asks from across the table.

T.K. slides his phone back into his pocket. “No reason.”

“Nobody smiles at their crotch for no reason,” Judd says, wiping at his mouth with a napkin. “You talking to a guy?”

“I wasn’t talking to anybody,” T.K. says, scooping up another spoonful of chili. It’s true. He was texting. Not talking. He’s a professional at telling the truth without actually telling it.

“I bet it’s that guy from the other night,” Paul says, a smirk on his face.

“Ooh, the hot guy with the six pack?” Mateo asks.

“Son, if you are engaged in sexting I’m going to ask you not to do it at the dinner table,” Owen says, clearly flirting with the line of dad mode and captain mode.

“I’m not sexting,” T.K. says with a roll of his eyes.

“But it is the guy from the other night?” Paul says. “Come on. You can tell us.”

“Is this what it’s like to have siblings?” T.K. asks. “Kind of glad you and Mom never got around to having more kids, Dad.”

“You’re welcome?” his dad says in a slightly bemused voice.

“Listen if you’re gonna text during dinner you’re gonna owe us some answers,” Judd says. “Least you can do for not paying attention.”

“Fine!” T.K. says. “Yes. It is the guy from the other night. His name is Carlos and he’s APD. Happy?”

“Carlos what?” Marjan asks.

T.K. stares at her. “What do you mean Carlos what?”

“What’s his last name?” she says. When he doesn’t answer she sets down her spoon. “You do know his last name, right?”

“I—“

“Are you sure he’s real?” Mateo asks, adding more cheese to his chili. “Could be a catfish situation.”

“Catfish?” Owen asks, looking confused. “You think T.K. is talking to a fish that lives in muddy water?”

Judd shakes his head. “I’ll explain it later Cap.”

“I am not being catfished,” T.K. says. “He’s a real guy. A nice guy,” he adds.

“Ooooh you’re smitten,” Paul says with a grin.

“I am not smitten!” T.K. cries.

He does not share the part where he poured his heart out the other night through texts to Carlos. Apparently his New York sob story needed to be released and a somewhat faceless, hot ass phone man seemed like an appropriate person to do it with. He’s not sure if his therapist will be thrilled or horrified.

“Just be careful what you send him,” Marjan cautions. “The internet is forever.”

“Thanks Mom,” he shoots back.

“Marjan is right,” his dad says. “I am all for you sowing your oats or Netflix and chilling or whatever you kids are calling it these days. But you should be careful.”

“One time,” Mateo says around a mouthful, “my cousin thought he was going to some girl’s place, but when he got there, it was actually a dude named Knife. He stole my cousin’s wallet and his cell phone.”

“You know sometimes I really worry about you probie,” Paul says, eyes full of genuine concern.

Mateo’s story takes the heat off of T.K. and the team spends the rest of dinner ragging on him instead.

But T.K. is still thinking about Marjan’s words hours later when he’s laying in his bunk staring at the ceiling. Everyone else is asleep; he can hear Judd’s chainsaw snores, Mateo’s sleep mumbles, and Paul’s deep breathing. Crazy how quickly those sounds have become familiar to him.

He rolls over and grabs his phone off the nightstand, turning down the brightness so it doesn’t wake anyone else up. He gnaws at his lip for a second before sending another text off to Carlos.

T.K.

[10:41pm] You’re real, right?

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[10:43pm] As opposed to…?

T.K.

[10:44pm] This isn’t a Catfish situation? You’re not really a woman living in Boise who’s going to steal my credit card information?

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[10:45pm] You got me. You’re my third mark this year. What gave it away?

T.K. snorts then looks around quickly to make sure he hasn’t woken anyone up. His fingers fly as he types back.

T.K.

[10:46pm] Prove it.

Office Hottie- Carlos

[10:47pm] Prove what? That I’m real? How?

T.K.

[10:47pm] Idk. Send a picture of you holding a fork.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[10:47pm] …a fork?

T.K.

[10:48pm] Four tines? Used for food? Popular with mermaids?

There’s no response and T.K. sets the phone down on his chest. He’s stupid. This is stupid. What kind of stupid person asks someone who’s basically a stranger to send a picture of themselves with a fork at this time of night?

T.K. winces. Weirdest booty call ever.

His phone vibrates and when he lifts it up he has to clap a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

Carlos has sent a selfie of him holding a fork. His eyes are squinty, like he’s barely awake, and there’s a hint of scruff on his face. His hair is all mussed and he looks so adorable that T.K. feels a very strong urge to kiss him.

He’s also shirtless. Which makes T.K. feel a very strong urge to put his mouth other places.

T.K.

[10:55pm] Do you ever wear a shirt?

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[10:55pm] I was in bed. This is how I sleep. And you’re welcome that I got up to prove my legitimacy to you.

T.K.

[10:55pm] Thanks. Do you want me to prove mine?

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[10:56pm] No need.

T.K.

[10:57pm] No need? What does that mean?

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[10:57pm] I know you’re real.

T.K. thinks for a minute and then his mouth falls open.

T.K.

[10:58pm] Did you background check me officer?!

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[10:58pm] …I plead the fifth….

T.K.

[10:59pm] You did!

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[11:00pm] Okay fine, I did. I wanted to know more about you.

Warmth blooms in his chest, but then is immediately doused like a bucket of cold water has been thrown on it. If Carlos ran a background check…

T.K.

[11:01pm] So…you know about the shooting then?

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[11:01pm] Yeah. And the incident at the bar.

Shit. He’d really rather Carlos not know about the bar. He wishes nobody knew about the bar. Having his dad pick him up from jail had been a low point in their first few months in Austin. It had taken weeks for his split lip to heal. At least he hadn’t been charged. He hadn’t realized there was still a record of some kind though.

T.K.

[11:02pm] Great. So you’ve seen the highlight reel of all my finest Austin moments.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[11:02pm] I actually already knew about the shooting. It was kind of big news. I just didn’t realize it was you.

T.K.

[11:03pm] Yep. That’s me. Remembered for my near death experience and getting my ass kicked.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[11:03pm] I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have looked.

T.K.

[11:03pm] It’s okay. Like you said, you already knew about the shooting. And it’s my fault the bar thing is on record anyway. It was really stupid.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[11:03pm] Everybody makes mistakes T.K.

T.K.

[11:04pm] Well I already spilled my guts to you about New York. So you know I’ve made more than a few.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[11:04pm] So have I. You just don’t know them yet.

Why does that small bit of empathetic understanding make his heart ache? His therapist would probably say something about how he always feels like he’s too much for people to handle and Carlos choosing kindness instead of running away at the first signs of T.K.’s baggage.

T.K.

[11:05pm] Do you think it’s weird that we never met before the other day? Since we’re both first responders?

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[11:05pm] Not really. Austin’s a big city.

T.K. rotates his phone in his hand a few times, getting his nerve up.

T.K.

[11:06pm] Would you want to hang out? Sometime?

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[11:09pm] Like a date?

The alarm blares and T.K. immediately shoots upward, pulling on his boots and turnout pants as everyone else does the same. The fire is a big one and they don’t get back to the station until four am. By then it’s way too late to text Carlos back and honestly, he’s too exhausted to even form words. He drops into his bunk and falls immediately asleep.

#911 Lone Star #Tarlos #911lsfic #Tarlos Fic #Thirst Trap Thursday

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shakingparadigm · 9 hours

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idk if your still busy so obviously finish what your doing before doing anything else but do you know how hyuna's prosthetic latches together?? I think theres like a knee-latch on her prosthetic that's a bit father down than her other leg but theres so much going of its hard to tell whats going in that area

Honestly I'm not sure how the mechanics of it would work, especially since there's got to be some weird alien technology or structure at play there. It's pretty different from what a prosthetic leg is like in real life, so it's tricky to make assumptions based on that, too.

There's some stuff I noticed about Hyuna's leg across the various official arts, though. Mostly the fact that it's inconsistent, and I kind of see a reason for it. Please forgive me as I go on a bit of a ramble.

In her original performance outfit the prosthetic is structured almost like it's just a normal leg molded out of metal. It's a lot more solid and is dark in color, almost black. It also seems as if it goes up to just her knee? Maybe it still goes up to her thigh and she just ripped her pants until the knee for better/unobstructed joint movement. It joins at the ball of her knee and seems to be composed of quite a few different parts, somewhat complicated.

In All-In, Hyuna's prosthetic is still mostly of average leg shape. The most notable difference is that the leg includes hollow spaces, most likely thinner parts assembled together as opposed to one solid leg. It's also a different, lighter color. We can infer from this image that her leg is until her upper thigh.

And then we have the latest one. Hyuna's leg in All-In seems to be until her upper thigh, but this image makes it seem as if it goes much higher than that (although it's most likely an artistic choice. maybe I shouldn't look into it too much. I've learned my lesson 😭). But it's interesting how this leg is the most unique, solid and without hollow spaces, but considerably thinner, more simple.

There's also the fact that you mentioned, the latch being farther down in comparison to her actual knee. It's different from her previous prosthetic legs which seem to join at the knee exactly and are much more similar to that of normal leg anatomy. For this prosthetic, her leg doesn't actually latch at the knee, it latches just a bit below it. The prosthetic knee may look a little lower, but it's just the way she's angled, left leg facing left and right leg facing forward.

Maybe I'm overexplaining something that's already obvious/basic knowledge, my bad. Also I'm no scientist, so I could be wrong.

Anyway, the fact that Hyuna's leg changes quite a bit is interesting. It could be a design shift from the earlier production of ALNST to the finalized version, but I personally like to think that Hyuna's leg changes because she replaces it sometimes. Her lifestyle calls for a lot of action, and while her body can heal itself overtime, her prosthetic leg is prone to wearing and breaking apart.

This is how I see it (just a theory/maybe headcanon):

The leg she has in her performance outfit is one supplied to her by the aliens, which is why it looks much more sturdy, more like a true human leg. They're very advanced, so they'd know exactly how to make one that best suits her. Once Hyuna escapes to the rebellion, she doesn't have access to that kind of material anymore, nor does she know how replicate it. So instead she gets creative, taking scraps of metal and joining them together to make another leg, which is why it looks considerably lighter and less complicated. Whenever her leg breaks, she (or someone from the rebellion) creates a new leg from the material they can find, which is why her legs become progressively more simple and less conventionally "leg-like" . It's no problem to her though, and she's very proud of it.

#sorry it took me a while to get to this! I've been busy #also if there's any inaccuracies with how prosthetics work/wrong terms used for prosthetics pls let me know! i dont intend any disrespect!#alnst #alien stage #alien stage hyuna #alnst hyuna #asks

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definitelyuseless · 7 months

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no but i was really like, after intentionally misrepresenting my personality, wHy DoEs nO oNe uNdeRstAnd Me?!??!?

#how the fuck are you meant to format that #i was like this in high school so much though and there were like extenuating circccumstances and stuff #but it was sort of funny after i spent years lying and prenending like i cared about doing well and behaving #and then in year twelve i just didnt care about prentending anymore so i admitted i didnt care #and then the staff members this specific one #was like i dont understand whats happened to you why are you like this all of a sudden #and i was confused before i remembered how i used to act #dont know how i forgot guess im really just that dumb #but the fact that she actually bought my clueless well meaning really really dumb but academically smart loser act #i mean the only thing there that was a lie was the well meaning like id say i didnt mean to do the thing that got me in trouble i thought i #was allowed or it was an accident or something #actually sometimes that was somewhat true #but as a teenager lying to adults especially school people is literally the easiest thing ever and yet they all think they can see through #and i guess at the time i was convinced that they all did see through it a ot more than it turned out they actually did #i mean like sometimes it was so obvious i was lying and it was obvious they knew i was lying but it wasnt that important so they let it go #and this specific person who did that was one of those like she was more easily convinced i guess but i was sure she saw through me sometim #there was this specific time which was a bit more serious and like i lied as much as i could and they clearly werent convinced but they wen #with it for some reason i guess they did know i didnt actually mean any harm that was clear #i only lied about the specifics instead of admitting i was bored and showing off #but there was no way they believed me #and yet they still had this totally inaccurate version of me in their head and had no idea of my actual motivations for anything #i mean obviously they could see through a bit and still think that but its like she though i didnt lie at all #obviously a parrt of this is that i was just one student and they probably forgot a lot its just funny how she thought she knew me #like her specifically just had a personality like that #they all had very specific personalities that influenced how they saw students behaviour and stuff #i feel like it was weirldy like christian or some shit #not the right word but like when they think theyre this great righeoteous benefactor doing all this good #and theyre actually just cluesless

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greenfiend · 1 year

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So I went on Reddit (big mistake I know). And it’s honestly so fascinating to me, like from a psychological perspective, how adamant 99% of them are that there’s zero evidence for Byler/Mike being queer.

When there’s actually more evidence for Byler than so many other ships out there? (For comparison sake, I shipped Ron/Hermione back in the day, and I was fairly confident they’d end up together (they did). Though, there was not as much evidence… I’d argue.)

Like, do just a few minutes of research and you’ll find evidence in the cinematography, the music, the costume design, the script, the acting choices, and more.

To be fair, I *try* to look up evidence to the contrary… and what do I find? Shallow, surface level evidence… “Mike said he loves Eleven” (completely ignoring how lying is a major reoccurring theme in the show…)

Then you have them all echoing that Bylers are delusional. And I’m not even upset. I’m just fascinated. The lack of insight is astounding.

#I work in mental health #so it’s just interesting to me #im genuinely curious #how much and what kind of evidence would change their minds #byler #this is a random sidenote #but I work with people who are sometimes actually delusional #like grandiose paranoid etc #and I still consider the possibility that what they’re saying is true #if it’s somewhat realistic #because sometimes there is some truth in there #but the idea that two fictional male characters which one is in love with the other ending up together?#nope #completely delusional #uh okay guys sure #I wouldn’t even call midleven endgame truthers delusional tbh #stranger things

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theflyingfeeling · 6 months

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I think Niko is shipping Olli and Aleksi…👀

oh, for sure 😌 and he's absolutely right to do so as well <3

so yeah who else tried googling 'michael jackson anti-gravity lean meme' or something to figure out what the hell that was all about. I mean not meeeee

#i couldn't find anything noteworthy so i guess this will remain another mystery 😔#what i'm about to say next is 100% fictional and just a delulu headcanon so pls don't actually think i believe it's true but hear me out:#imagine niko having noticed olli and aleksi are into each other but too oblivious (or scared) to do anything about it #and so he puts his best efforts in trying to sort of...lead them towards each other 🥺#oof i should shut up before i'll headcanon them being misearable in their current relationships #(which i'm sure they're not!! i'm just headcanoning 100% fictional scenarios!! not speculating!! i know nothing!!)#and niko knowing about / having noticed that too. thus providing him one more reason to make them see how good they'd be together #i swear i'm not obsessed about them being cheaters lol #rather i'm obsessed with the trope 'yes they're dating person X and are relatively happy #but then they meet person B and realise who they should actually be with' 🤧#because sometimes that happens okay?! 😭#sorry for the somewhat irrelevant rant lol i'm avoiding real-life responsibilites 🤡#answered asks #anon ask #ollixallu

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evilkitten3 · 8 months

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btw i decided to restart my undertale replay bc i wanted to play through in japanese (both the practice and out of curiosity) and. i gotta say the way they handled the fonts for sans and papyrus was not what i was expecting

#undertale #i don't know what i was expecting tbh #just. not that i guess?#i like it but it's a tad disorienting #and sometimes sans' dialogue is a bit hard to read #it's also somewhat jarring to me to have sans clearly being the older brother #my hc is he's actually the younger one #but it's kinda adorable regardless #also i really like how the japanese version has been using kanji so far #it feels very easy to subscribe to the ''chara does the flavor text'' hc imo #it would also make frisk seem young enough to struggle with kanji #but anything they hear or might be being read to them is in almost entirely in kana which is neat #although this theory would mean that chara refused to read them the signs in the colored switches puzzle....#also playing through while actively thinking about what the characters are saying is. interesting #like y'know how towards the end of the true pacifism route toriel scolds asgore for his inaction?#i just realized she does the same damn thing. she could've destroyed the exit to the ruins before frisk caught up to her #or before they even found the house or before they even fell into the underground at all #it's interesting #also now that i'm reading in a language i'm not as comfortable with. i've noticed...#it's REALLY frustrating when the game dialogue doesn't wait for you to finish reading it #like i do get it but yeesh

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blujayonthewing · 1 year

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the reason I've never drawn Melliwyk asleep in Zhartook's backpack is that I originally said that as a joke and even though it is a canon thing that happens sometimes, Mel is. kinda too big to actually fit in a backpack

#you know how inventory in dnd is handwaved and don't even worry about the logistics of how you'd be carrying all of that #that's also how mel fits in backpacks #you right click her to pick her up and she pops into the dedicated Sleeping Gnome inventory slot #this was actually a consideration I HAD after realizing that 'small humanoid who is sometimes asleep in a backpack'#was something I wanted to actually build: I seriously considered making this character a halfling so they'd be smaller #but I knew it'd be a wizard and like man... halflings give you NOTHING for that! gnome just fit too well with the concept #anyway all of this is true except that this is not actually why I've never drawn this #the truth there is mostly just laziness skjhdgdkfg #and also I forget! I always give my OCs gimmicks and then forget about them :') like how aubree is supposed to be superstitious #or kethri's somewhat of a compulsive liar #about me #my OCs #melliwyk

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crispy-chan · 1 year

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#cried over my ex for the first time in ages #it feels so fucking stupid - we’re both kids ffs #we used to be so close but now we barely even exchange a word throughout the day #it hurts me so much…#dude was my first everything #we were really close friends before we even started dating and I was so excited when he finally asked me out #it just hurts so much #I actually felt somewhat relieved when we broke up. I though it was for the better #but sometimes… sometimes I get these random memories of what we’ve been through a bf it just hurts so damn much #I have a problem of opening up to people but he was the person who managed to get me to open up the most #not entirely but a bit #he was there for me when I went through some bad shit and thinking back #I’m really sad #I don’t even know why #I know it was for the best and that it wouldn’t work out but it still hurts so bad #especially when he moved on so fast #having her walk into our #classroom feels like someone is stabing me tbh #gaaahh this is so embarrassing #but I mean I guess it’s true that you don’t get over your first love that easily…#jas bambles 🎐#rant tw

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moe-broey · 2 years

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Feels like ripping out a particularly stubborn plant from the ground. Your explanations are beginning to sound like excuses. It always seems to grow back.

(fourth panel is a little unclear I know lmao, it's supposed to be pulling roots from the face w a bit of dirt and blood)

#this actually applies to. many feelings i've been having.#i'm. struggling a bit here lmfao. ik i'm chatty n sometimes i'll share something that feels like i'm pushing it #but i'm very careful to never overshare too much. i want to be responsible for the sake of others n myself #to speak vaguely and broadly though. i am technically disabled. somewhat mentally ill too but better since meds #that's the core of it! how it seeps into every facet of life. how it's isolating. how i can not want to get out of my own way at times.#i have a lot of wishes i have a lot of dreams.#i look at my circumstances and go 'well it would be annoying as hell to work within those. achievable? yes. annoying? yes.'#i tell myself i'm working on it i tell myself i need a break i tell myself maybe one day in the future.#and maybe that's all true! but i am fighting for my life to even get myself to be in the present lmao #all that said death of the artist. this could just as well be about how you're the only one wearing a mask in the grocery store #for real though???? that bitch the pandemic isn't helping either fuck you navigating shit was hard enough without you!!!!!!!!!#me tag #my art #blood #there's only a little bit but i wanna be considerate!

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vsimp · 10 months

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bitter

pairing: kamisato ayato x f!reader

wc: 3k

genre: angst

summary: where you are in an arranged marriage with him and you rarely ever see him

warning: somewhat traditional housewife roles, negative thoughts

What a cruel fate it was, to fall in love with a man who neither loves or hates you.

To spend long, cold nights alone. A large, indifferent room divided by two separate futons.

You knew that your husband was a busy man. He worked all night, barely resting during the day, and every time you’ve caught glimpse of his office, there was always a huge mess laying around on his desk. But having been married to him for such a long time, you felt that the distance between you two grew longer and longer every day.

In the morning, you would greet him with the biggest smile you could muster. He would greet you back with the same gentle smile everyday. At this point, you knew what his real smile looked like. You don’t recall when the last time he’s ever given you one.

If Miss Ayaka and Thoma were busy, and you dined alone with your husband, the table would be silent. You didn’t know what to say, and he’d also be reading over papers while eating, so you were afraid to disturb him. If the two were present, or if there were any other guests, Ayato would be more active in the conversation, joking lightheartedly and appearing like he was actually enjoying himself.

This man did not treat you unkindly despite having these feelings that lurked in your chest. In fact, it was the opposite. He was a true gentleman every time you interacted with him. He would open the door for you while you two walked together. He would pull out the chair when you wanted to sit. He would hold your hand and escort you to any event, or if you were getting on/off a carriage.

But it was all superficial. It felt like he was forcing himself to do these actions for you. You couldn’t even tell what his intentions are for doing so. You couldn’t tell if he just disliked you, disliked this arranged marriage, or if he just wanted people to see what a loving husband he was, that everything was okay right now even though it really wasn’t.

From touchless nights to meaningless small talk, your heart ached at the thought of everything. You don’t ever recall the last time he’s kissed you on the lips in private. You don’t recall the last time he’s ever opened up to you about the depths of his heart, from the things that scared him the most, to the things that has made him truly happy.

And while you know that a relationship thrives off of communication, you couldn’t help but feel scared. You were scared that the man in front of you would grow even colder, shutting off the depths of his heart forever, pushing you away if you were to ever confront him. Maybe he’d even take it to an extreme and call off the marriage with you, telling you that he never loved you, as this was really only an arrangement between your two families. Maybe he was in love with someone else prior to this marriage, and he has only reserved his heart for them all of these years.

You have seen his darker sides. He doesn’t think that anyone has noticed, but you have. You were always watching him, after all.

A more mischievous side of him existed deep down in there, a certain sly foxiness that could even rival Guuji Yae herself. Sometimes, it would scare you to see that forced smile on his face as if what lingered in his mind were true thoughts darker than what he had initially led on.

But despite his flaws, despite the mask he constantly wore around, you loved him. You loved him so much it hurt. You loved how he cared for people despite them being complete strangers to him. You loved his gentle smile as he holds your hand so tenderly when you accidentally trip. How could a man be so kind, yet so cruel to your heart?

And even as you laid in bed most nights alone, shedding tears as if you were the dark side of the crystal moon longing for the light of the sun, you still loved him regardless.

You were in your futon all alone as of this moment, staring at the ceiling. The room was pitch black and silent, other than the occasional sounds of the residual droplets from the passing rain. Ayato would never let you rest in a room that was cold, so the temperature was heated comfortably, yet you couldn’t help but bundle yourself up under the covers even more.

It was cold without him. You didn’t even realize when the last time he had actually went to bed in this room you both allegedly shared.

But it didn’t matter anyways because his futon laid far away from yours.

Your own husband wouldn’t even come near you when you’re together in the same room. You didn’t know if he just wanted to be respectful as a formality between husband and wife, or if he is repulsed by being in the same vicinity as you, but it hurt regardless.

You sighed as you covered your face with the blanket, trying to get rid of these harboring thoughts. It was no use, no matter what you did, you couldn’t stop thinking about your relationship with him every single night. He is what plagues your mind at night, like a thorn lodged deep in a fingertip. It was only soon that you will be bleeding out your love for him.

How could you make a scene about all of this anyways? You've seen how hard he works. You knew that everything he did, it was for the sake of protecting his family and home. Who were you to complain about how busy he was? That was another reason why you continued to keep silent. You thought that your worries meant nothing compared to his own.

Your mind was racing a mile per minute, and you knew you weren't able to get any sleep like this. You got up and out of your futon as you decided to go for a stroll around the estate. The guards protected the outside and prevented from anybody from coming in. As long as you walked around inside, there should be no problem with you strolling the corridors, so long as you remained quiet.

Lighting up a candle, you started meandering through the halls, your footsteps nearly silent with no goal or destination in mind. You didn't even realize your feet had automatically taken you to the doors of his office, the same door that you have stared at many times, knowing that your husband was in there, but you had no reason or courage to open. You see the dimly lit light through the translucent paper sheets, and you knew that tonight was going to be another long night with no rest for him.

You sighed, not remembering the last time you had been in his office, and you were about to step away, but the door suddenly slides open rather violently. You flinch in shock because you didn’t expect for anything to happen, as he usually never notices your presence.

"Who is there?" He said in a serious tone, and you were finally greeted by the man who plagued your every thought and dreams. His hand laid on the hilt of his sword, almost as if he was ready to strike down any intruder who was lurking in the shadows. But instead of drawing his sword, he blinked a few times, realizing it was just you who stood there. He instantly let go of the sword and his expression relaxed a bit, although his eyebrows were furrowed slightly to show confusion. "Y/n? What are you doing here? It is almost 2am right now."

His presence stunned you for a second before you snapped out of the current awe-struck daze you were in. It had been quite a while since you've seen his face. He was rarely home anymore, but when he was, he would be holed up in his office. You only ever see him to greet him when he returned back home, and sometimes when he leaves, as he had a habit of sneaking out secretly every so often.

"Oh." You were flustered at this unexpected situation. "I had trouble sleeping, so I decided to go for a walk..."

"Is something troubling you?" He asked in concern. "If it is work-related with the household, then I know Ayaka would be happy to give you a hand.”

"It's not that..." You shook your head. You didn't want him to worry about you, so you tell him a small lie. "It's just one of those nights..."

"I see."

"Have you been faring well?" You then asked him.

He gave you a small, gentle smile, but you have seen this many times. It was one of the masks he wore when he wasn’t telling the truth.

"I've been doing alright," he replied. Anybody would've believed him, as he would never appear disheveled in front of anybody, but from the way his eyes had a slight dark tint underneath them and the mess that apparently was his desk with papers and pens strewn everywhere, you knew that he was far from so. "I was actually looking to take a break soon from my paperwork. Since you probably will be up for a little bit, would you care to join me?"

An invitation from him was rare, and you immediately jumped ship. You nodded. "Let me go prepare some tea."

"Oh, there's no need to do that."

"Nonsense," you gave him a reassuring smile, knowing what he was going to say. He was so considerate as always, not wanting to trouble you. "It will only be a few.”

You start to walk down the hall to head to the kitchen, but you were surprised to hear footsteps behind you. Before you knew it, Ayato was walking beside you, and you could hear your heart thumping in your chest.

"Ayato?" You questioned.

It was dim, as the candle was the only thing that lit the dark halls, so you can barely make out his expression.

"I'll tag along with you then." He said softly, as to not wake anybody else up. "It will be a good change of pace from being stuck in my office all night."

To you, he was so hard to read at times. If he was accompanying you, he surely must have his reasons, as he had never used any of his personal time on you before. He only accompanied you outside when he had a special meeting at an event that required for both spouses to arrive. Those were the only times when he was somewhat affectionate. That was why you were nervous when he decided to come along with you, thinking he had an ulterior motive like he usual does. But a small, small part of you hoped that it was something else; that he wanted to join you because he missed you and just wanted to idly chat.

You stepped into the kitchen and then lit a brighter lantern to illuminate the room using your own candle. But before you could do anything else, you watched as Ayato's hand pushed a portion of your hair aside. You couldn't help but feel your cheeks heat up at the action, your eyes making its way towards him now that you were able to see his face.

He wore a gentle smile on his face as he looked down at you tenderly. A rare expression indeed, you’ve only noted him to give this look to Ayaka. It made your heart hurt a little as it thumped away in your chest, feeling like you could soar to the moon and never come back.

"Your hair was getting close to the flames, so I didn't want it to burn,” he explained.

"Oh..." You didn't know what else you could say. "Thank you..."

With that, you started boiling the kettle of water, your body moving to find tea leaves. Ayato watches on without speaking a word, and you two drift into a somewhat lulling silence.

As you prepared your leaves, Ayato interrupted the silence no sooner than later.

“There’s another event that the Kanjou Commission is hosting,” he said. There it was. He needed you to attend another political event with him. You were once so naive to think that he would actually spend time with you just because he wanted to. You knew he hated small talk and would rather get straight to the point. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind attending it with me.”

Of course you didn’t mind, if it meant that you would be spending more time with him. But even if you did expect for this, you were still disappointed.

“Sure. When will it be?”

“In two months. They’re hosting a party event to discuss upcoming financial plans for the winter.”

You nodded, your hands a little rougher than usual as you crushed up the dried tea leaves in the mortar. Usually you would hide your emotions well, but it definitely showed in the way you pounded at the leaves.

If Ayato had noticed your switch in moods, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he went over to the cabinet to grab two cups for the tea.

“I appreciate it. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”

Another blatant lie fueled only by courtesy. He always says this whenever you did a favor for him. If you were to truly ask for a favor, he would have Thoma somehow fulfill it, or he would say that he was too busy to do it himself, and that he would make it up later. He would send a gift, picked out by either Thoma or Ayaka of course, to later apologize for not fulfilling your promise.

And although it has only happened four or five times before you’d stop asking him for favors, knowing that he was too busy to fulfill them, it still left a bitter feeling within you.

You felt that it was selfish for you to feel this way. You knew that he had lost his parents at a young age, having to resume the role as the leader of the Yashiro Commission and head of the Kamisato Clan very early in life. You thought it wasn’t right for you to feel bitter about small things like this. Yet, as you glanced at the man in front of you, who barely looked at you and instead stared at the bright full moon outside, your heart ached at this solemn expression— one that loomed with fatigue and tiredness.

Maybe what you truly longed for was his happiness. Maybe you wanted to share that happiness with him, although you knew it would be a long shot. So long as he was the head of the Yashiro Commission, the leader of the Shuumatsuban, there will always be a distance between you two, as he prioritized things differently from any other typical person. Even though he was in the same room as you right now, as the moon peaked through the small window, the cicadas singing in the distance, he still looked as alone as ever. Like there was an unmeasurable length between you two, and you were too afraid to cross it, in fear that you would never be able to reach him.

The kettle soon starts to heat up, and you take it off the flame to start steeping the tea leaves. A few minutes of silence passed, and you wondered then if he was going to leave immediately after he finished his tea. It was still hot, so you had a couple more minutes left with him, right?

You poured the tea carefully in the cup and then proceeded to hand it over to him.

“It’s hot, so be careful.”

“Thank you,” he smiled at you and graciously accepted the tea. He picked it up to his lips, blowing it a few times as he inhaled the scent. “This smells like a different type of tea than the one you served at the event the other day.”

You remembered that event. You were attending a birthday party for an old couple who were close friends with the Kamisato’s. You brewed that tea with extra care, knowing that Ayato was going to drink it on that very occasion.

“It was truly delicious,” he complimented and you felt your heart soar at his words once more. “I know I never told you this, but it was one of my favorite hot teas.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” I smiled, making note to remember that information. “This one that I brewed helps with stress and calms the mind.”

He took a sip once the tea is cooled down a bit more. “I can see how this one can have that effect. It’s a very mild, but calming flavor. It’s a good choice for you to brew this, since it will probably help you sleep.”

Actually, you had brewed it for him, so that he wouldn’t stress so much, but you held your tongue back. Instead, you took a sip of the hot tea, trying to match his pace so that you both could finish at the same time.

“I hope you like it,” you said.

“I do enjoy it quite a bit,” he replied with a small smile on his face. “I will take it to my office and savor it. I appreciate you willing to spend time with me.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

“I hope you get some sleep soon, and try not to stay awake for too long,” your husband stated. “Please pardon me, I must return to my work.”

You forced out a smile in return, knowing that he had cut his time off with you short on purpose.

“Have a good night, Ayato.”

He gave a small nod as he walked out with the tea in his hand. You waited for the door to fully shut before you leaned on the counter with your back pressed to it.

He didn't even wait to finish the tea before he left. He just went straight to the point, pushing you aside as if your feelings had never mattered to him in the first place.

Your hands gripped the ceramic tea cup tightly. It felt like if you had held it tight enough, it would shatter and break, scalding your skin like the way your husband did just now.

Your tears dripped into the tea, the salty solution messing with the delicate taste of the drink as you sipped it, not wanting anything to go to waste. What was once a calming, smooth taste was now bitter.

So, so bitter.

It was another cruel, lonely night that awaited you.

#repost from this morning because I don’t see it listed when tagged #when u just started this blog and ur already soft shadowbanned #genshin impact #genshin #Kamisato Ayato #Kamisato Ayato x reader #Kamisato Ayato x reader angst #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact angst #Ayato x reader #Ayato x reader angst #genshin angst

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wander-wren · 1 year

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i write a lot of breakdowns of various types and somehow i always manage to sneak in a dialogue exchange like. character a is berating themself for “overreacting” and character b is like “look. [blunt description of what happened that shows the breakdown was not an overreaction]” and. yeah. thats just a wrenism i totally do that i’m sorry but i will continue to make my characters do it

#bird noises #i do it to other people and it is very helpful when other people do it to me #like. hey! youre not stupid for having a panic attack bc x y and z happened! that is actually very reasonable to your brain #protip you gotta like therapize yourself sometimes #wahh i get triggered by corn mazes like a dumb lil baby what the Fuck even is that #[therapist!wren voice]: actually self you had a negative experience in a maze very similar to The Big Trauma and around the same time #also corn mazes usually involve running and not easily being able to escape. both of which are bad for you/me/us.#therefore it is somewhat unconventional but makes a lot of sense #right?? is this a therapy thing. i wouldnt know i have a bad track record with therapists #thats true btw thats 100% bona fide wren lore i cant do corn mazes #just silly like that ig #all of this was prompted by me reaching this point in a fic and wondering if i should Not Do That this time #but no im doing it

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creature-wizard · 3 months

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Is the spiritual person a conspiracy theorist? A list of red flags

They talk about a shadowy group of people supposedly manipulating everything behind the scenes. They might refer to them by terms such as globalists, bankers, international bankers, secret rulers of the world, the elite, the cabal, Kabbalists, Talmudists, satanists, satanic pedophiles, pedophiles, generational satanists, satanic bloodlines, the Illuminati, the Babylonian Brotherhood, lizard people, Reptilians, Orions, regressives, regressive entities, Khazarians, Marxists, cultural Marxists, or leftists. Sometimes, very rarely, they'll just come right out and say "Jews."

They claim that the conspiracy has been working to conceal historical and spiritual truths from humanity.

They claim that the conspiracy uses stuff like food, entertainment, and medicine to control the masses. For example, "additives in food suppress our psychic abilities" or "Hollywood films contain subliminal messages" or "COVID vaccines were actually created to alter your DNA to make you more docile."

Also, claims that the conspiracy controls people via spiritual or technological implants, 5G, or alter programming, with or without explicit mention of Project Monarch (a conspiracy theory promoted by far right cranks such as Mark Philips and Fritz Springmeier, who used hypnosis to respectively convince Cathy O'Brien and Cisco Wheeler that they'd been put under mind control by a global satanic conspiracy).

They claim that this conspiracy is controlling the media, has fingers in every institution they disagree with, and is generally behind everything they disagree with. (EG, the conspiracy created the Catholic Church; that other New Ager they disagree with is actually controlled opposition, etc.)

They claim that the conspiracy is trying to keep people in fear.

They claim that the conspiracy harvests something from people. Blood and adrenochrome are common ones. Loosh is somewhat less common. Expect to see something else pop up eventually.

They claim that the conspiracy practices genetic engineering; EG, creating animal/human hybrids, using vaccines to genetically sever people's connection to God, etc.

They claim that true spiritual wisdom can be traced back to places like Atlantis, Lemuria, or Mu.

They claim that world governments have secretly been in contact with extraterrestrials for years.

They appeal to known frauds and cranks, including but not limited to Erich Von Daniken, Zechariah Sitchin, David Icke, David Wilcock, Graham Hancock, Jaime Maussan, Bob Lazar, Steven Greer, Richard C. Hoagland, Fritz Springmeier, and Drunvalo Melchizedek.

Appeals to forged documents, including but not limited to the alleged diary of Admiral Richard Byrd, The Emerald Tablets of Thoth the Atlantean, and The Urantia Book.

Appeals to channeled information, such as that provided by Edgar Cayce, Carla Rueckert, or George Van Tassel.

"But all of this has to come from somewhere, doesn't it?"

Oh, it all comes from somewhere, all right, but the where isn't what most people imagine.

A lot of the stuff above is just a modern spin on the content of The Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion, a Russian hoax created to justify violence against Russian Jews. The Protocols itself was plagiarized from a political satire and incorporated a lot of the post-French Revolution conspiracy theories about Freemasons and Jews being behind the French Revolution. I wrote a summary of the conspiracy tropes found in The Protocols over here.

The stuff about Satanic sacrifices and the consumption of blood, adrenochrome, loosh, or whatever are simply just variations on blood libel, an antisemitic conspiracy theory that claims Jews practice ritual cannibalism. Blood libel can be traced back to ancient Greece. (With the Greek version, I really can't help but notice the similarity to modern urban legends of gangsters kidnapping random people for initiation rituals.)

Many of these tropes can also be linked back to the early modern witch hunts. It was believed that witches sacrificed babies to Satan, practiced cannibalism, and put people under mind control by way of diabolical magic. It was also believed that some witches didn't even know they were witches; they'd go off to attend the Devil's Sabbath at night and come back in the morning without remembering a thing. In the late 20th century, this witch hunter's canard would be reinvented as the alter programming conspiracy theory when media such as the 1973 book Sibyl and its 1976 television adaptation put DID (note: the woman who inspired Sibyl did not have DID) into the public consciousness. For a more complete list of witch panic and blood libel tropes, I wrote a list over here.

Lemuria was a hypothetical landmass proposed to explain the presence of lemur fossils in Madagascar and India while being absent in continental Africa and the rest of Asia, because if lemurs evolved naturally, they wouldn't be in two separate places with no connection to each other. The discovery that India and Madagascar were once connected not only made the hypothesis obsolete, it precludes the existence of Lemuria.

The whole notion of Mu began with a horrendous mistranslation of the Troano manuscript. A man named Augustus Le Plongeon would link the mistranslation with the story of Atlantis, and use it to claim that Atlantis actually existed in the Americas. (For Plongeon, Mu and Atlantis were one and the same.) And then other people (like James Churchward) got their hands on the whole Mu thing, and put their own spins on it, and the rest is history.

Le Plongeon's ideas influence modern Atlantis mythology today; EG, the idea that it was in the Americas. Another guy who helped shape the modern Atlantis myth was Ignatius L. Donnelly, an American politician. Dude claimed that Atlanteans spread their oh-so-superior culture far and wide. He also claimed that Atlantis was the home of the Aryan people, because of course he did.

The idea that all of the world's wisdom can be traced back to Thoth/Hermes goes back to Hermeticism, a product of Greco-Egyptian syncretism. Hermeticism produced a fascinating body of mythology and an interesting way to consider the divine and its role in shaping human history, but that doesn't mean it was right. And the Emerald Tablets of Thoth the Atlantean is a modern text that has fuck-all to do with ancient Hermeticism and more to do with HP Lovecraft.

This idea that the conspiracy uses pharmaceutical drugs and vaccines for evil also has roots in Nazi Germany. The Nazi government, wanting to reserve real medicine for their soldiers, told the general populace that said medicine was the product of evil Jewish science and prescribed alternative healing modalities instead. (Said alternative healing modalities did not particularly work.) It also echoes the old conspiracy theories about Jews spreading the Black Death by poisoning wells.

The idea that the conspiracy uses genetic manipulation to create subhuman beings or sever humanity from the divine is a permutation of the Nazi conspiracy theory that Jews are trying to destroy the white race through race mixing. The idea of evil reptilian DNA goes back to the ancient serpent seed doctrine, which is indeed old, but no less pure hateful nonsense for it.

"But there's got to be somebody up to something rotten out there!"

Oh sure. But these people aren't skulking around in the shadows. They're acting pretty openly.

The Heritage Foundation has been working to push this country into Christofascism since the early 1970's. They're the ones responsible for the rise of the Moral Majority and the election of Ronald Reagan. They're also the ones behind Project 2025, which intends to bring us deeper into Christofascism. (Among many other horrible things, they intend to outlaw trans people as "pornographic.")

The Seven Mountains Mandate is another movement pushing for Christofascism. They intend to seize the "seven spheres" of society, which include education, religion, family, business, government/military, arts/entertainment, and media.

There's also the ghoulish American Evangelicals who support Israel because they think that current events are going to bring about the Second Coming of Jesus and cement the formation of a global Christofascist empire. Don't let their apparent support of Jews fool you - they believe that the good Jews will become Christians and the bad ones will go to hell.

All of these people are working toward monstrously horrific goals, but none of them are part of an ancient megaconspiracy. In fact, these are the kinds of people pushing the myth of the ancient megaconspiracy. From the witch hunts to Nazi Germany to the American Evangelical movement, if history has taught us anything, the people pushing the conspiracy theories are always the bad guys.

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sadesluvr · 5 months

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Three Simple Wishes - William Afton x Reader

It’s Vanessa’s birthday, but her father William ends up getting the best present.

A/N: Pure filth, yet again. This has gone through a BILLION iterations, but I’ve finally done it…I’m off to horny jail. Minors DNI!

Word count: 3.5K

Tags: SMUT / Dom + Sub dynamics / Dub-con / Age gaps (Reader is in her 20’s) / Infidelity / Costume sex / Perv! William / Oral sex, male and female receiving / Sex toys (Vibrator) / Multiple orgasms / Unprotected sex / Creampies / LOTS of use of the term 'Princess' / William is just NASTY, ok? And a bad father but we knew that

Being a Rent-A-Princess was far from glamorous, but sometimes it was rewarding. As for the other times? Having to endure sleazy men who hire you for bachelor parties, and cleaning yourself up from that one sickly child who puked on your dress.

You hoped today wouldn’t be one of those days.

It seemed promising enough to start, until you’d apparently shown up an hour early.

“I’m sorry,” a man named William said. You’d quickly learned he was the birthday girls’ father. “Sarah should’ve told you that they were going to the movies first. It’s funny how she can forget that, but not to nag about everything I do,” he said matter of factly, swigging his drink.

So he was the complaining husband. Nothing you hadn’t dealt with before.

“Well, I can wait…” you sighed, playing with the sparkly material of your dress. Mrs Afton had specifically requested that you be a ‘fairy princess’ - so you were dressed in a flowery tiara, crème coloured wings, and a corset-like dress with off the shoulder straps and a tulle skirt that stopped just by your knees.

“Want a drink?” William asked, breaking the tension. He seemed nice enough, albeit slightly dorky with his large glasses and oddly coloured tie. Apparently he’d come from work.

You politely shook your head, biting your lip as you directed your attention around the room, somewhat oblivious to the way the man was staring at you.

He’d heard of his wife’s “genius” idea to hire a princess, but for some reason the concept had never really manifested in his mind. He’d always seen them as slightly cringey with weird, overly heavy makeup, but you were a dream come true. Shy, polite - perfectly submissive. He wondered what was hidden under the layers of tulle and petticoat; if you’d squirm when he ran his hands up your thighs, spreading them apart so he could finger your pussy. He wanted to see you in action; if you’d stay in character whilst he pounded you into the counter, tears of ecstasy forming in your eyes as you’d squeal when you came around his cock.

His relationship with his wife had gotten stale a long time ago, and it was time that he got a thanks.

“You know, I’ll pay you for this extra hour,” he announced. “Can you do a little bit of your act? I wanna see if you’re good enough for my ‘Nessa,” he smiled, eyes wide and sparkling. Even though he was a grown man, it was actually rather cute. You loved seeing devoted fathers -

How could you say no?

You picked up your wand and stood in the middle of the kitchen before you curtseyed.

“Your wish is my command…” you said gently, peering up at him through your lashes. It was a classic move in the business, but it drove the man crazy. He smirked, finishing the last of his beer before he walked around the counter to join you, leaning against the counter.

It was then you realised how much bigger he was than you; tall, with a large chest and limbs. What struck you the most was his biceps and thighs - he was far more built than the typical man his age. For some reason you now felt nervous, but it wasn’t the usual pre-show jitters.

“…How may your Princess be of assistance?”

His Princess. You were all his for the next hour.

“I get three wishes, don’t I?” he hummed.

You pursed your lips and nodded, rolling the wand in your hands as your heart pounded against your chest.

“Well, for my first wish I’d like a dance with you,” William said, smirking at your startled reaction.

“I’m not a great dancer…” you said bashfully.

William stepped closer, reaching out a hand to adjust the material of your sleeves down so that they were level, noticing how your skin freckled with goosebumps upon his touch.

“Don’t worry, Princess. I’ll teach you,” he said softly, taking your hand in his and beginning to lead you into some kind of ballroom dance.

There was no music but he hummed a deep, methodic melody that came from inside his chest, almost like a satisfied purr of a lion. He was careful as he held you, as if you were a porcelain doll, making sure that his body was a safe distance from yours. Still, your bare legs and the tickly material of your dress occasionally rubbed against his own, earning an apologetic ‘sorry’ from you every time.

You were beyond perfect. Quite literally a fantasy come to life.

Once you were done, you broke away.

“Where did you learn to move like that?” you chuckled.

“I play a character too,” he said vaguely. “I’m very comfortable in my body. Besides, my wife always said I was good with my hands…” he finished, raising his brows slightly. You bit your lip and cocked your head, giggling at his entendre.

“What’s your second wish?”

“A kiss,” he said bluntly, and you glanced at the ground shyly. This was certainly beyond your means. Still, you were technically on the job, and you’d jokingly kissed people on the cheek before as part of it. This was the only gig you had that was getting you through college, and you couldn’t lose it.

You nodded, adjusting your tiara before you leaned in, standing on your toes as you planted a kiss on his cheek. His skin was slightly prickly because of his beard, contrasting against your soft, slightly sticky lips. Pulling away, you realised you’d left a smudge of your lip gloss on his cheek.

William hummed at the contact, unable to suppress his growing erection. You smelled heavenly, and your kiss was even better. So gentle, so precise…

“That was lovely, sweetheart, but I didn’t say on the cheek,”

Your eyes widened and you gasped.

“Mr Afton — I can’t…You’re married,”

“That doesn’t matter,” he said dismissively. “It’s all just make-believe. Besides, she’s not here…”

You remained frozen as he got closer to you, his hands again brushing the sleeves of your dress, this time beginning to slide them down your arms. You knew what he wanted.

“Mr Afton, please,” you begged, glancing around the kitchen. If this endeavour was going to happen, it shouldn’t be by a children’s birthday cake. “Not here…”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, his voice raspy. The cracks were beginning to show, and his eyes were filled with lust. “This way,”

He led you down the hall and up the stairs. Before you knew it, you were in the Afton’s bedroom, the door left slightly ajar.

“Get on the bed for me, Princess,” he grinned. “I want to look at you,”

William chuckled as you immediately obeyed, pulling yourself up towards the headboard, sat on your knees, staring up at him expectedly. You were quivering, and it only made his cock harder.

The tulle ran up your thighs, its poorly constructed bottom beginning to leave nothing to the imagination. Your chest was heaving, exposing the outline of your breasts. Even though you were scared, you were so ready for him.

“I don’t want to get caught…” you said softly, a lump bobbing in your throat as he slowly approached you, staring you down like a piece of meat. “I’ll be fired,”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Princess,” he smiled, beginning to loosen his belt as he kept staring at you. “But it works two ways, you know…”

You nodded.

“Is this your final wish?”

“No. I like to savour my treats…” he purred, pulling down his zipper. “Look up at me, doll,”

You obeyed, letting him take your face with his free hand, cupping your chin as he guided you to his cock. He was a little over average, and it was thick, with a prominent vein running along its side. He groaned and threw his head back as your warm mouth enveloped his cock, precum acting as lube and coating your lips like gloss. His grip remained firm on your face as he began to pump in and out of your mouth slowly, giving you time to adjust to the sensation. You hollowed your cheeks on his cock, guiding your head along the skin as you used your tongue to lick the sides, earning a groan from William.

“Has this pretty Princess sucked cock before?” he teased. “Of course you have…You’ve never had one like this before though, hm? Married, daddy dick,”

You managed a ‘Mmfh’ in response, unable to speak. The man chuckled and let go of your face, letting you do the work whilst he caressed your body, admiring your wings and stroking your neck, his hands making their way down to your chest. You wasted no time in using your hands to grip his base, holding him still as you began to eagerly suck him off, taking him as far as you could whilst your hands jerked him off at the base.

He huffed, and began to unbutton his shirt, leaving him in a vest, showing off his slightly hairy chest. He looked down at you, and you looked up at him, secretly satisfied at the way his eyes were half lidded with desire. It was his daughter's birthday, and his wife was 30 mins away, and yet here he was getting a blowjob from the hired entertainment. It was so sinful, and he’d barely even begun.

“Go deeper, Princess. For me…” he commanded, his voice breathy. You did, and his thick tip hit the back of your throat, making you gag. Pulling away, a trail of spit connected your mouth to his cock, and the man tutted, scooping it with his finger to run it over your swollen lips.

Had you disappointed him?

“I can do it —” you insisted, psyching yourself up to go again, but he stopped you, bending down to place a sloppy kiss on your lips.

“Lie back,” he said simply. “I have a surprise of my own,”

He opened a drawer, fumbling around through the contents before he pulled out a box — to a vibrator.

“It’s all clean,” he said, holding it up teasingly. “You got one of these, Princess? Or are you too much of a good girl for them – Maybe there’s a Prince around to do the job for you…?”

You shook your head. There was one guy named Mike who’d sold you the tires of your car once, but you’d never really pursued him.

“Hm,” William hummed gleefully. “ ‘Got this for Sarah as a fun little Valentine's gift ‘n she never used it. She’s a fucking prude, as you can tell. But you’re going to be my good little princess, aren’t you?”

“Yes Sir,” you replied, and he smirked as he opened the box, wasting no time in sorting it out.

In a moment he clicked it on, and the quiet house was filled with whirring which filled you with anticipation. It’d been a while since you’d had sex, let alone anything penetrating.

William leaned down, hands on either side of your body as he snaked his hands up the sides of your thighs, calluses brushing the material of your skirt away before he reached your panties.

“I’m gonna put this inside you, okay Princess? Be a good girl for me…”

You hadn’t realised it was a dual operator.

The rubbery material slid into your folds as he pushed your panties aside with his hands, allowing for the other nub to rest on your clit, leaving the base sticking out of your body. If that wasn’t torture enough, he covered the bottom with your panties, placing them back into position and leaving you with no escape.

The machine began to pulse and vibrate, leaving you as nothing but a squirming mess.

William chuckled at the sight below him, taking a moment to watch you squeal and call out for him as he lazily jerked his cock. This was far better than any porn. Or sex with his wife, for that matter.

You arched your back and clung onto the sheets as it continued to fuck you, the outside handle massaging your clit in circles, sending shockwaves through your body. You’d never been fucked like this, and it was even more sinful knowing it came from a married man.

“Please Sir…” you begged, eyes watery as you stared at him, arms outstretched. “I need —“

“Does the Princess need her King? He’s coming, doll,” he cooed, desire laced in his throaty chuckle. He walked over to you and took your hand, but assumed his position back at your mouth, taking a moment to run his heavy shaft over your wanting lips. You took him in your mouth like a good girl, making sure you teased his balls with your tongue.

He groaned, legs shaking as he ran his fingers to the top of your dress, roughly pulling it down to just below your breasts and began to fondle them with his large hands. He squeezed and tugged on your nipples, bringing you to a point of complete overstimulation as the vibrator continued its motions within you. The room was filled with sounds of wetness from both your mouth and cunt, and judging by the way you were beginning to desperately paw on William’s thighs he could tell you were close.

“Are you gonna cum, doll? You gonna cum all over my wife’s vibrator?”

You whined an ‘uh-huh’ as you nodded your head, and William grinned down at you, pulling himself from your mouth.

“Good,” he hummed. “Open your legs nice and wide for me Princess. I want to watch you,”

You did so and he stood over you, inspecting you as if he were a doctor. You were beginning to see white, and you barely noticed that the man had dropped to his knees, face-to-face with your aching pussy. In a second, he dragged you towards him and buried his face between your legs, underneath all the layers of tulle and petticoat. He swiftly removed the vibrator and replaced it with his tongue and lithe fingers, flicking at your bud and pumping in and out of you, your juices beginning to coat his digits.

It was heaven when you came. You were so overwhelmed that you’d actually locked your legs around him; allowing him to receive all of your fluids across his face and fingers. He lapped you up like he was starving, his hands holding a steady grip on your thighs and waist, making it clear that you belonged to him.

As you rode off your high, you began to feel sleepy. William emerged from under your dress, looking rather proud of himself as he wiped a droplet of your juices from his beard. You mustered the strength to prop yourself up, and as you did he pulled you into a sloppy kiss by your neck, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth.

“Dirty girl,” he murmured. “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?”

You bit your lip as you pulled away, watching the man intently as he dropped his pants and boxers, leaving him completely nude.

“Keep your clothes on for me, doll,” he smiled sinisterly. “You look so pretty in that dress. I promise I won’t ruin it…”

Shifting so that you were amongst the pillows, you instinctively hiked up your skirt, watching as William climbed over you. Even though you were fully clothed, you felt completely naked under his gaze, and the severity of the situation finally sunk in on you.

Here you were, the image of innocence and grace, draped across the marital bed of the parents of the child you were supposed to entertain - on her birthday no less - whilst the husband straddled you, ready to fuck you within an inch of your life.

Sarah, Vanessa and the other children could come home any minute.

“William…” you whispered, cupping his cheek in your hand. “I-I’m scared…”

He grinned. He hoped you were scared of what he was going to do to you, and the idea of being caught by his wife.

“Shh,” he hummed. “I’ve got you,”

He lifted your legs to either side of him so that your lower back was elevated, and your thighs rested on his own as he lined up with your entrance. He took a moment to tease your slit, rubbing his sticky head along your wet folds, still sensitive from your orgasm.

He pushed into you with little warning and your back arched, relishing in the bittersweet feeling of being stretched open. You thought he was going to begin moving, but he continued to push into you, making sure that the ring of juices you’d left on his cock was entirely covered. He wanted you to take him whole.

“Fuck, Princess,” he groaned, voice rumbling from the inside of his chest. “You’re so tight…I haven’t had a pussy like this in ages…”

“Will…” you stammered, shutting your eyes as you felt him bottom out within you, balls resting on your skin. “Oh my God…”

“Such a perfect little Princess,” he said, relishing in the sight of your skin-on-skin. Holding your thighs apart, he pulled back slowly before beginning to fuck into you, the contact making obscene sticky sounds. You had no choice but to grip the bed sheets as he drew long, agonising strokes into you, savouring the moment. Something about it was strangely intimate.

Once William found his rhythm he briefly let go of your thighs to grope your tits through the material before pulling it down and manhandling them himself. They moved with every thrust as your head lolled, mouth open and whining as he fucked you.

William was a man of many feats, but he’d never believed he'd be able to have this. He wanted you to be his naughty little elf for Christmas, his Cupid for Valentines, and his present for his birthday. Just you, bound by ribbon with a bow on your head would be good enough.

“You like this, hm? Ever fucked another dad like me? They must love having you around,” he snarled, and your pussy clenched at the image.

“N-Noo…” you whispered, squealing as William abruptly slapped your cunt..

“No?” he repeated. “Hm, of course not. You’re a good girl, aren’t you? A true Princess…”

You nodded, leaning up as William leant down to meet your lips in another sloppy kiss, giving him the ammunition to drill his cock into you further, your legs now by his shoulders.

God, this was the best fuck you’d ever had.

He steadied himself on either side of you, and you could feel his hot, heavy breaths from his nose and mouth as he continued to fuck you, eye contact unwavering.

As his thrusts became sloppier, you felt your stomach knot up, signalling yet another orgasm.

“William…I’m - I’m close…”

“Again, baby?” he hummed. “And here I was thinking I’d get to fuck your ass…Hm, there’s always a next time…”

You hardly acknowledged the implication.

“Y-You gotta — “

“Pull out?” he teased, withdrawing his hips, legs shaking as his nerves tingled and he entered you for the final time. “Oh no, Princess, I can’t do that! I could stain your pretty dress or ruin your makeup…”

He was so considerate.

You nodded, locking your arms around his neck as the weight of his body forced you into the mattress. You squeezed your eyes shut as you came, toes curling as your walls clamped down on his cock, making him feel bigger than before (if that were even possible). It wasn’t long before he came, grunting and whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he filled your pussy with his hot cum. He held you there for what felt like forever, making sure every drop wasn’t wasted, nor spilled onto the bed sheets.

“Fuck!” he bellowed, words broken between pants as he began to pull out, watching as the creamy fluids glistened in the natural light, even trickling down to his balls. You looked absolutely spent, and if you didn’t have a job to do he would’ve let you lie there.

Managing to pull yourself up, it was mostly silent until you heard a car enter the driveway, causing you to spring into motion.

“William, we’re home!”

“Shit…” you murmured, looking around. How would it look if you both came down the stairs?

“Here, take this,” William said nonchalantly, handing you a pink envelope. “Vanessa’s room is at the end of the hall. I trust you know how to improvise...”

You nodded, brushing your skirt into place as you hastily began to leave. William stopped you, raising a hand as if to ‘halt’, and tenderly fixed your tiara, a sly smirk wiped across his face as he did. As he let go, his hands stroked your cheek and his thumb ran over your lips. You took the digit into your mouth briefly before planting a gentle kiss onto the tip, smiling back up at him innocently.

Keys were in the door.

“My final wish…” he uttered, “…Is that you come and work for me. We could really use an Easter Bunny…”

@fandomwritingbit @ahsxual

#florence writes!!#my magnum opus #for now #william afton smut #william afton x reader smut #william afton x reader #steve raglan smut #steve raglan x reader #fnaf smut

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thenightwolf51 · 6 months

Text

What if Jack and Maddie Fenton were actually Jack and Janet Drake?

The Drakes are their actual identities but they created the Fentons as a why of letting loose, of getting to be their truest most unhinged selves and pursue their true passion without the eyes of high society Gotham judging them.

Whenever the Drakes are supposedly out of the country on archeological digs they are actually in a little no where town in the midwest.

The Drake wealth is perfectly capable of funding their experiments and prototypes and every now and then they do show up to a dig for a week or too, but the Fentons are who they truly are.

So of course Gotham never finds out about Janet's first pregnancy and little Jasmine is welcomed into the world as an Amity Park Fenton, not a Gotham Drake. Janet's second pregnancy however.

Well as i said, the Fentons are who they truly are at their most unhinged and unfiltered. And upon finding out that their having a set of identical twins, well, can you really blame them for passing up this perfect opportunity to test Nature vs. Nurture.

One boy would be a wealthy Drake raised as an only child in a hostile city, the other would be a Fenton raised with his older sister in a peaceful small town.

That's what they decide and thats what they do, and everything is as cannon goes. Tim doesn't know that his parents "archeological digs" are really an excuse to spend most of their time as the Fentons, and Danny and Jazz don't know that the longer "ghost conventions" are an excuse to handle Drake affairs and check on their unknown brother.

At least until things start to get complicated.

(Im not sure if Maddie fakes Janet's death or if she really dies, and if Jack's coma is fake or real and he lost his Fenton memories. Or maybe the death and coma dont happen at all and the truth comes out some other way like Danny finding the Nature vs. Nurture notes or a school trip to gotham or maybe Jazz desides to go to college in Gotham and it comes out that way somehow.

This obviously works best as a "bad parents Jack and maddie" though how bad they are can be entirely up to you. Maybe everything comes out sometime after a "reveal gone right" and Danny and Jazz think their parents are getting better only to be smacked in the face by the betrayal of "secret billionaire parents who essentially abandoned their brother"

Dont know but im tossing it to the void.

To me the most important scenes in this idea is Tim angst at the fact that his parents were never actually too busy to be there for him and had instead chosen no to be there, the somewhat bitter consolation of learning that even when their parents were physically there they still weren't there there for his siblings, and then some good ole slightly unhinged sibling bonding.

Maybe the measuring of ecto contamination and debate in if their parents presence did more damageto their health or less

They honestly might be tied on mental and physical scars. All three kids tend to come with headcanons about neglect and malnourishment)

@hdgnj @omnicrafts @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 @tathartiel @0mnicrex @ailithnight @little-pondhead

#dpxdc #dcxdp #Fenton Drake AU #in which jazz is the only one without a secret identity #makes sense since she's arguably the sanest #Jack Fenton is jack drake #maddie Fenton is janet drake #danny and tim are twins #twins au

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venus-maneater · 6 months

Text

a loyal dog’s reward ii. | yan! criston cole

yandere / obsessed ! au

fem! targaryen princess! reader

part i

synopsis. suffering an injury from a tournament, criston has to deal with seeing you alongside his temporary replacement. fortunately, you weren’t interested in teasing too much this time, trying to distract yourself from your sister beginning her labors, and you were happy to cheer your poor mutt up.

note; I’ve decided to make this a series with no real plot lol 😭 if being attracted to criston cole is a crime then lock me up !! this chapter took a mind of its own bc this was not the original plot and it’s twice as long as part i

WARNING(s): obsessive / possessive behavior, manipulation, violence, thoughts of violence, implied murder, blood, injury, JEALOUSY, nosebleeds, talk of bastards and having bastard children, Rhaenyra gives birth, allusions to sex but no actual smut, cole def has a breeding kink y’all

Ser Criston Cole, your ever-so-loyal shield, always said yes when you asked him to enter tourneys. He knew how much you enjoyed them, and relished in your attention as he succeeded in competition. There were only two real downsides to tournaments for him: the hours he had to spend apart from you, and the injuries. Criston had always excelled at anything physical, but he was only mortal. He was just a man who could be maimed or murdered just like any other. It served to remind him of the status gap between you: he was a man while you were born from dragons.

He kept his eyes on your form in the nobles’ box until it was his turn. This was typical behavior from him, he was nothing but devoted to you. Since you’d discovered his true feelings, you gave him more attention than before. You entertained his tendencies, teasing him sometimes but always reassuring him at the end of the day. You wanted no one but him.

“Oh, don’t fret, my Criston.” You’d tut, “I could never replace you. You’re the only guard dog for me.”

You played with his feelings occasionally, trying to get a rise out of him, but he quickly found that he didn’t mind. His reward at the end made all his anger worth it. He never blamed you either, it was never your fault that men didn’t know how to leave you alone.

He wondered now if this was one of your attempts at making him jealous.

The large man who stood obediently behind you was the one taking over Criston’s position as he competed in the tournament. Usually, another Kingsguard member would take over, but this particular Knight had something to prove. He was highborn, from some house in the Vale, with wide shoulders and a somewhat handsome face. The two men looked nothing alike; the Knight next to you was pale, hazel-eyed, and thin-haired.

He doubted it.

You didn’t like men other than Criston Cole guarding you, you’d expressed so before. They’re boring and untrustworthy, you insisted. Your words made his chest puff out with pride. He liked that he was the only one you truly trusted with your life; you knew he would protect you. You chose him to protect you.

To be honest, you didn’t even seem interested in the Knight from the Vale; you looked stiff and bored, which concerned your sworn shield. You loved tournaments, you loved when he won things in your honor. Why don’t you look excited?

Soon enough, it was his turn again. With your flowery red favor around his wrist, he got into position.

You perked up a bit when you saw that it was Criston’s turn once more. You’d been rather stiff most of the event, and you partially blamed it on your boring temporary guard. The man was flat; no personality to work with at all. It bummed you out honestly, he was from the Vale but behaved like a Northman. He was presumably around Ser Criston’s age, but had not even half of his spirit. It wouldn’t have bothered you so much if you couldn’t feel his stare burning into the back of your head. You could give him some credit; at least he’s taking his job of supervising you seriously.

But no, the primary reason for your irritation and lack of focus was your father. He had demanded you to attend this tourney to celebrate Rhaenyra’s labors, not allowing you to be by her side. You and your sister were close, very close, and quite similar as well. To not be by her side when she was in pain had you tense. You didn’t want to be here, not even to see Criston compete.

Criston Cole was facing a member of House Bolton, a rather fierce young man who didn’t scare easy. Most Northerners were like that, but Criston should know best as he just beat another one last round. The tournament today was celebrating Princess Rhaenyra beginning her labors, so competitors have traveled from far and wide. The event had been planned for a month, so it was good news that the Princess was finally giving birth.

“Jessil,” you called to your guard with a smirk, “You should watch closely this round, my shield is competing.”

The man nodded curtly without a word, causing you to roll your eyes. His under-reactions irked you, but you were starting to blame Criston Cole for that fact. He always reacted wonderfully to anything you did, perhaps you were too used to it.

Speaking of your shield, you could see his anger growing the longer you were with another man. It was the only thing keeping you here at this point; waiting to see if he’ll get violent. Criston was the most amusing man you’d ever met, you just knew something was going to happen. There were only two more rounds until the event ended, and he’d been stiff ever since Ser Jessil bent down closer in order to hear your comments about two hours ago.

The two knights settled into their positions across the courtyard from each other, on opposite sides of the tilt. Then, a horn sounded, triggering their horses into a sprint. With their lances aimed, the men collided, wooden splinters flying but neither of them falling. New lances were readily tossed to them and the process repeated. Criston spared you a glance, noticing that Jessil had gotten a few inches closer.

Again, they charged forward. Only this time, when they clashed, Criston was thrown from his horse at the force of the hit. The Bolton fared a bit better, remaining on his horse, but he was hit in the face by Criston’s lance, causing the front of his helmet to cave in just enough to cut him.

What you saw made you shoot to your feet, your hands gripping the railing in concern. Never in your years of knowing Criston Cole had you ever seen him knocked from his horse in a tournament. He was easily one of the best fighters you knew of, it seemed impossible that this could happen. Had you pushed too far with your teasing? You’d never tried anything during a tournament before, perhaps Ser Jessil’s presence threw him off.

The round didn’t end there. Criston was quick to stand despite his obvious injuries, and his morningstar was swiftly given to him. His helmet had flew from his head when he fell, so his bleeding mouth was for all to see. He was holding his right arm close to his body, making it appear broken or incapable of proper use. Although he was right-handed, he gripped his weapon in his left hand and prepared for a fight. The Bolton Knight was also without a helmet at this point, ditching the damaged armor when he jumped to the ground to grab his sword. His nose was bleeding and looked to be broken from the hit.

“Is his arm broken?” You asked aloud, leaning over the railing a bit in an attempt to see better, “he favors his right.”

Jessil ignored your words, but inched closer so you wouldn’t go over the railing, “Princess, you could fall.”

Criston let the other Knight come to him, not willing to waste any energy. He used his time to look your way, not liking the way your guard was holding your shoulder.

The fight began, but didn’t last long. The Bolton may have made a skilled jouster, but not a fighter. He was no match for the angry Kingsguard, even when he had every advantage. Handicapped from his injuries, Criston swung his Morningstar with his left hand, swiftly hitting his opponent in the head while avoiding any oncoming attacks from the sword. The impact knocked the younger Knight out, but visibly broke his brow bone. Due to the force from the spikes, his face was bleeding badly and the area around his eye was caved in, perfectly mirroring the damage to his helmet.

Half the crowd was silent in shock (including yourself), but the other half was cheering loudly at the violence. You were desensitized to such things at this point in your life, but that didn’t mean you welcomed them. You didn’t like that Criston came so close to losing, or that you have to watch some poor Bolton boy bleed out on the ground for no reason, your shield was too injured to continue to the next round anyways. And due to your being a princess, it would be inappropriate to leave early to check on the Kingsguard member. Because your father wouldn’t allow to be with your sister, you’d made Criston your fixation of the day.

The two of you made eye contact as a few servants rushed over to him, helping him limp off to see a maester. It was soon announced that although neither competitor was continuing to the next round, Criston Cole was technically the winner.

“Well that was certainly a show” You cleared your throat, shaking Ser Jessil’s hand off your shoulder and finally taking your seat once again, “I knew something was going to happen.”

“So you did, Princess.” The Knight nodded curtly, recalling your words earlier, telling him to watch closely.

With Criston gone, your mind shifted back to a pregnant Rhaenyra, who was currently giving birth without your comfort. You stiffen up, nails digging into the railing before exhaling deeply and taking your seat. The two of you return to your proper positions and continued to observe the event for the next few hours, clapping dutifully when an insignificant Lannister won.

You made it back to the Red Keep in record time, it seemed. Even Jessil had trouble keeping up with you on your horse as you rushed home. You’d refused the carriage ride, eager to see your sister.

You were sprinting up the nearly infinite steps to her chambers, Jessil following close and maids jumping out of the way. A couple of people tried to stop your entrance, but you only shoved them aside and pushed your way towards your sister.

“Rhaenyra!” You gasped softly, a grin finding its way to your face when you saw her cradling her new baby in bed. After the death of your mother, childbirth was a sensitive subject for you and your sister, you hated being apart during this time. She dismissed the women in the room, leaving just the two of you and her first child.

“I’ve decided on Jacaerys.” She smiled at you as you crawled into the bed beside her.

She’d discussed baby name ideas with you before, with Laenor as well, who suggested Joffrey. Rhaenyra was adamantly against it, and you remembered the distaste you felt hearing it, knowing the implications that would come along if they decided on that name. You’d always liked Joffrey actually, unhappy with his death, but almost all of court heard the rumors of he and Laenor. You’d suggested Jacaerys, a Velaryon sounding name. Rhaenyra didn’t seem overly interested, so you didn’t expect her to choose it.

“Oh, Jacaerys.” You cooed, stroking his little head, full of dark locks. That wasn’t good, not really. Hopefully he took after Rhaenyra in his other features, or else questions of his parentage could arise. Rhaenys was half Baratheon, so that could be used as an excuse. But then the baby boy opened his eyes, revealing big brown orbs that mirrored Harwin Strong’s. You liked Harwin quite a bit, not minding. But the court would mind. You and Rhaenyra would just have to protect him.

“Have you slept yet?” You asked your sister, who hasn’t stopped grinning since you first saw her.

“Not yet, dear sister, I cannot stop looking at his sweet face.”

“Has… his father seen him yet?” You both knew who you meant.

“No. But he will soon enough, when I’m well enough to leave the room.” She gave you a knowing smile, which you returned.

Upon leaving Rhaenyra to rest, you were able to successfully escape Ser Jessil’s supervision with the help of Ser Harwin Strong, and went straight to Criston Cole’s chambers. You found out through your favorite handmaiden that he’d been released from the infirmary, and you took the first opportunity that presented itself to you. You didn’t knock before slipping into his room, but you were sure he wouldn’t mind.

Stepping in, your eyes were drawn to his place on the bed immediately. He was lying down above the blankets, with his arm wrapped and splinted in a sling resting above his bare midsection. His ribs were bruised, but it was apparently nothing bad enough that would need wrapping. Both legs were extended out, with his left pant leg pulled up to the knee to reveal his bruised ankle. He didn’t notice you enter, his eyes were shut and he was likely half-asleep. His face was fine, handsome as always, besides a cut on his nose-bridge that was beginning to darken into a bruise.

“Look at you, my poor sweet thing.” You cooed quietly at him suddenly, waking him from his relaxed state. His eyes shot open, head snapping over to the door.

“My princess.” He gasped. His chambers were much smaller and less impressive than yours, he didn’t want you in such an environment.

“Are you well?” You asked, closing the door as quietly as possible, “The maester says you’ve broken bones.”

“I’m well, I swear it to you. It’s a small break in the arm, everything should heal rather quickly.” He tried to reassure you as you approached, struggling his way into a sitting position, his back against the head board.

You hummed at his clumsy movements, stopping to stand at his bedside. Cute. Criston wasn’t an inherently violent man, at least not with you, so it was easy to forget how strong and dangerous he truly was. It was unnerving to see him injured; weak.

“How quickly would you say?” You asked.

“The maester says a month.” He answered quietly, not willing to admit the extent of his injuries. His primary goal was to get back to you.

You knew the Maester had actually said two months.

“Hm. Who will protect me for a whole month in your absence?” You held back a smirk.

You watched as Criston’s body language immediately changed. Clenching and unclenching his jaw, his leg twitched in frustration.

“I am still fully capable.”

Has he always been this attractive or does jealousy just look good on him?

“My father thinks you should take time to heal.”

He scoffed, shaking his head, “I don’t care what he thinks, you saw what I did to my opponent despite my injuries.”

“You ‘don’t care what he thinks’? He is King.” You said in a mock-scolding tone, lifting your knee to rest in against the bed, close to his lap.

“Yours is the only word to mean anything to me. I listen to no King.” Still seated, he leans forward to get closer.

“Though you listen to me? Only me?” You ask with a smile, batting your lashes at him and leaning in. He doesn’t move to kiss you first, he rarely does. He lets you do as you please, feeling the puffs of air from your giggle on his lips.

“Yes. Only you.” He whispers, his eyes begging you to just kiss him already. But nothing is ever that simple with you, and he knows it well.

You grin at him, leaning in until your lips are just grazing his own, before laughing and pulling away entirely. His face followed yours until you were out of reach, leaving him to huff and fall back against the head board once again. He let out a quiet groan, closing his eyes and tossing his head back so he could catch his breath.

“You’re so easy, Ser Criston.” You snickered. His lips quirked up at your joyous tone, but he resisted the urge to open his eyes. After a few moments of stumbling around the room in amusement, you bit your lip to keep quiet.

Criston went stiff when you fell silent, excited fingers beginning to twitch as the urge to touch you increased. But he was a seasoned warrior at this point in life, and could hear every movement you made. He heard you tiptoe back over to the bed before pausing. The mattress dipped as you climbed onto the bed and landed in his lap, straddling his thighs and avoiding his bruised ribs. It was only when you were on top of him that his eyelids fluttered open to watch you. You gave him a satisfied look. He was happy to let you believe you caught him off-guard.

“Criston?”

“Yes, my Heart?”

“There’s something I have to tell you…” You placed your hands gently on his chest and leaned in, your mouth next to his ear, “and you will not like it.”

“You think me incapable of handling such news?” He asked, a bit breathless.

You smiled, “Of course not. You’re my protector, my strong and most loyal servant. You can handle anything I give you, yes?”

He nodded, unable to speak properly with your lips on his ear.

“My father says that Ser Jessil will be your stand-in as my protector.”

Criston’s good hand immediately moved to your waist, gripping it tightly, “You don’t need anyone else to protect you. Only me.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” You kissed his jaw gently, “but you should heal and rest.”

“I will kill him. Do not doubt me.”

“He would just be replaced.”

“I don’t care, I should kill the next as well.”

“You go against my word?” You pulled back, sitting up fully. He hesitated in his response, so you continued, “Ser Jessil will be your temporary replacement, my King father has said this and I have agreed.”

It was a lie, technically; you didn’t exactly agree to anything. But you weren’t about to let Criston believe he had the power here. He’d started to get a bit too bold.

Your faces were close together now, the two of you holding heavy eye contact. Criston said nothing, though his body language revealed his true feelings easily. He didn’t like that you were taking your father’s side over his own.

“I love you.” He blurted out, brows furrowed in emotion.

Your hands moved up to hold his face, “I know that. I just want you well. You must rest and heal so you can be at your best. Don’t you understand?”

Criston nodded slowly, a satisfied shiver running through him at the thought of you caring so much. His health is truly that important to you?

“Good.” You say with a grin, pecking the corner of his lips and reaching up to pat his messy hair down. His long locks grew wild already, but the style worsened from hours of wearing a helmet.

Giving into you, per usual, the Knight sighed and wrapped his good arm fully around your waist, pulling you close so he could tuck his face into your neck. You cooed at him, returning his embrace and giggling in between your praises.

“I know that this upsets you quite a bit,” You began, gasping in surprise when you felt a warm tongue trail over your throat, “but I don’t mind making you feel better.”

“Feel better you say?” He questioned absentmindedly, more focused on the taste of your skin.

You hummed in confirmation, “I can take care of you in places you may need help with. You know….. here?”

Eyes closed, you placed a delicate touch to the bulge in his pants, smiling when you felt him stiffen beneath you.

Criston Cole was always half-hard around you, your presence alone able to rile him up. He often found himself having to control his thoughts when around other people, not wanting them to notice his… state. As much as he wanted to touch you all over— taste you and love you and worship you— he held a higher respect for you than himself. You were not just a Lady, you were a Princess. He would not dishonor you in such a way, at least not until the two of you were married.

“Princess—” he grunted, mouth dropping open in pleasure briefly before pursing his lips. He pulled his upper body away from you slightly, giving you a bit more space to do what you wanted.

“Oh, it’s fine, Ser Criston. I want to.” You reassured, shrugging because you knew he would end up letting you anyways, “You just look so good bruised up like this, all jealous over some loser, nobody Knight.”

You whispered the last sentence harshly, and Criston loved it. He loved when you degraded other men in comparison to him. He was who you wanted, not that loser, nobody Knight. It didn’t matter that he was low-born or sick in the head, you wanted him anyway.

“You prefer me?” He asked looking up at you, “to him? Tell me...”

“I prefer you to him, Ser Criston Cole. I prefer you to all other men.”

Pulling him by his hair, your lips captured his. Whimpering into your mouth, he now does nothing to stop you from reaching your goal. You smile into the kiss at his surrender.

“… but perhaps you’re right.” You pull away from his lips, but stay close enough to tease, “it would be so dishonorable and you’re injured as well. Hm.”

Criston, his mind in shambles, doesn’t say a word, just sucks his teeth and releases a shaky breath. He doesn’t like to argue with you, he won’t. He’s overwhelmed, you’re so close.

“Can’t think.” He muttered so quietly you almost missed it.

A breathy laugh escaped you before you could stop it, “No? And why is that, Ser? Do I possess you so?”

“Possess? Princess, you are torturing me with your affections. I cannot think of anything else, I cannot focus, I cannot stop shaking.” His voice cracked at the last word and he wasn’t lying, his body trembled.

“Do I dominate your dreams as well?”

“Yes.”

You hum, curious. You knew of his fantasies; his plans to run away, marry, and have many children with you. But you never question the details, allowing them to stay fuzzy so he wouldn’t get too ahead with his scheming. Dreams, however, you could create your own world. “Won’t you share them with me?”

“We ah-” he pauses to take a deep breath, likely attempting to control himself, “You call me by name a lot.”

You tilt your head, a bit confused.

“Not Ser, not dog, not thing— just Criston. The sound of my name from your lips is like music to me. It makes me— I never want you to say another’s name ever again. And uh- a daughter. We have a daughter. She looks like you- so much.”

You begin to shift at his words. A daughter? No Westerosi man wishes for a daughter, at least not before a son, “Daughter you say? Why?”

“She will be you, reborn, carrying my blood. I dream of a baby girl that smiles like you. I will call her my little princess as you are my Princess. A child that is ours.”

“A daughter.” You repeated once more. It was… nice to hear a man express desire for a daughter rather than a son. You and Rhaenyra had suffered due to that mindset, spending most of your lives watching your father desperately try for a son, even at the cost of your mother’s life. He no longer felt that way, but it was too late, the damage had been done. He now had Aegon and Aemond, who he didn’t even pay much attention to. Your mother’s life felt wasted.

“Princess—?”

“A sweet thing it is.” You cut him off, “your dreams are endearing. But I must go now, Jessil has no doubt noticed my absence.”

Criston tensed, “Ab—sence” He croaked, jealousy building.

“Mmhm.” I nodded, “I’ve avoided him thus far, impressively. He may report this to my father if I’m gone any longer.”

Just a few minutes more, his mind screams. But he’s good for you, so he only nods. His jaw is clenched and there’s a noticeable twitch in his expression. His fingertips dig into your sides.

“I don’t want to part with you for so long.”

“Perhaps I’ll visit if you behave.”

“He’s clearly a bastard.” Criston spoke quietly, but plainly.

You’d snuck him into your chambers after a long day of cooing over Rhaenyra’s baby boy, Jacaerys. It’d been a couple weeks since his birth and she finally brought him to court for all to see.

“It is treason to suggest such a thing, Ser Cole.” You bitterly defended your sister as you brushed your fair, before rolling your eyes, “And even if it were true, what does it matter who the boy’s father is? He is Rhaenyra’s true son and her heir. The boy is a Targaryen.”

At the risk of upsetting you further, he held his tongue. Being rather low born, Criston grew up having to prove himself through his ability rather than his status. But when he was young, at the end of the day, he was still a rank above bastard children. He had that, at least. He knew that it wasn’t exactly fair, you can’t control who your parents are, but it was a mindset he was raised with and couldn’t shake so easily.

“What if my father marries me off to some Lord I do not love? Are you saying you wouldn’t fuck little bastard babies into me? Babes that look just like you?” You ask him, standing up from your vanity to approach his spot on your bed, feigning innocence.

Face twitching in annoyance, Criston grabbed your wrist and roughly pulled you to his level. With your faces were inches apart, he reached up and gripped your chin. The action made you bite your lip to hide a grin.

“I will be fucking little trueborn babies into you. I’ll make you my wife before giving you children.” He took slight offense to your words. How could you suggest that? You should know he would not let you be married off.

“Oh, of course, My White Knight. You plan to steal me away.”

“Hardly stealing.” He muttered, lovesick eyes staring into yours.

You don’t voice your disagreements, you only laugh. You did not belong to Criston Cole, you belong only to yourself. His words make you think that this game had gone a little too far; he’s getting too confident in his possessiveness. His hesitancy was one of his initial charms for you, and it’s leaving him. Perhaps it’s best to stop entertaining his ideas of a future with you, no matter how cute and pleasant you believe them to be.

“So you’re saying you wouldn’t like it, even just a little?” You tilted your head, his hand still holding your chin softly.

“No.” That’s a lie, maybe just a small amount. Everyone knowing you belong to him, having his kids, despite your status. But the negatives massively outweigh the positives. Not only would it put so much dishonor on you, but Criston isn’t good at controlling his jealousy. He wouldn’t be able to handle you being married to another or his children not having his name.

You smiled knowingly, teasing, “I don’t believe you.”

He released his grasp on your chin, letting you fall closer into him, “I could never be fond of an idea where you are not mine.”

“Well I would be, only secretly.” You pointed out.

“I want you to be mine openly, in every way. By name.”

You knew that wasn’t possible, not even across the sea. But you didn’t want to burst the bubble he’d been constructing for the last year. You let it go. A short silence takes over, not an uncomfortable one, but not the kind you particularly liked. The two of you had extremely different thinking processes, and it was something only amplified when you discussed your ideas for the future. Luckily, your partner was delusional enough that he didn’t notice your discontent with running away.

“Criston?” You ask, letting yourself fall to lie flat beside him. He lets go of your wrist and his eyes follow your moments, as usual. He lies back on the bed as well.

“Yes, my Princess?”

“Why do you desire me the way you do?”

He looked slightly surprised at the question, like he’d never expected you would ask. The truth is, he hadn’t. It wasn’t like you to care why. You were quick to accept things for what they were.

“You’re special to me.” He eventually whispered, “I was made to love you.”

“Made?”

“The gods constructed me only for the purpose of worshipping you. You have bewitched me with no effort. I do not know whether to kiss the ground you walk on or fall to my knees and beg for your continued attention.”

You stare into his big, dark eyes silently. He’s loyal, like a dog. And he’s hopeless like one too. “You’re not exactly a poet, but I suppose that will do.”

He grins, and you can practically feel his heart racing, “Not a poet, no.”

You tear your eyes away from him to glare at the ceiling. “Do not call my nephew a bastard again.”

He tensed at your words, entirely disliking that he’d upset you, and nodded immediately. He was embarrassed, “Yes, my love, I’m sorry.”

You sighed and looked back at him, sitting up once more. “I think you’ll find him charming. Rhaenyra says he reminds her of me already.”

“Well I’m sure to be charmed in that case, aren’t I?”

“Oh, yes, since you’re more than quite charmed by me.”

“Charmed,” He smiled, pupils expanding as he began to fantasize, “I hope to be charmed by our own children one day.”

“Our own?” You entertained, “How many? Including this daughter of ours of course.”

“Five perhaps. More if you’d like.” He took a piece of your hair between his fingers to play with.

“Is that what our lives would look like if you had it your way?”

“If I had it my way,” His eyes shifted back to your own, darkening, “by now you’d be chasing around our first two children as your stomach swelled with our third. You’d be called Lady Cole.”

“Ah, yes. Lady Cole with her many Cole babes.”

Criston had to take a deep breath at that, practically vibrating at the mere thought of you carrying his children and living as his wife.

You giggle at his visible reaction, leaning down to claim his lips. He sighed into the kiss, hesitant hands reaching for your hair. He tugs, trying to urge you closer, onto his lap, “My princess, please.”

“He begs, ‘Please please please’. You are the wantingest man I’ve ever met.” You grin into the kiss, allowing him to take you into his lap.

“I will never have shame in begging you. My life belongs to you, I am yours.” His words are beginning to slur slightly, “It’s only natural for me to be greedy when you are the one who claims my heart.”

“Always trying to impress me with your words,” You playfully roll your eyes, “you’re nearly healed, you know. Ready to return to my side?” It was a lie, he had good a bit left of healing to do.

“I never should have left.” He squirmed, trying not to show his anger. He never left, not willingly. He was removed.

“Of course, of course.” You tugged on the dark hair at the back of his neck, “The man who’s been with me is utterly serious. Neither I nor Rhaenyra like him.”

Criston listened to your complain about your temporary shield with a sense of pride and giddiness. He was relieved you disliked his replacement. But the mention of your sister disliking him as well did nothing for him, as the princess Rhaenyra didn’t like most men surrounding you, Criston himself included. She never vocalized it much, but he noticed when she tensed and sneered when he got too close to you. He wondered if she knew about your relationship.

“I’m more your taste, Princess?”

A grin found its way to your face and you nodded, “That’s right, I can do whatever I please to you and you only bask in my attention.”

He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, argue with that. While he had his own boundaries of sorts, they were completely disregarded in your presence and he didn’t even mind it.

To prove your point, you began to kiss his jaw, sweet and gentle kisses. Criston hummed, closing his eyes and tilting his head back only slightly. You nipped at the delicate skin, comfortable with leaving just a few marks because he was still out of action; not many people would be seeing him anyways.

“G-gods-” he choked out.

“The gods cannot save you, I’m afraid.” You giggle.

“I beg them not to.”

You giggle at his dazed voice and expression, blowing cool air on his neck and enjoying his shiver. His hands keep twitching. Just to tease, you kept your face tucked into him, kitten licking at the skin until you felt something wet hit your cheek. Pulling away slightly, you quickly identified the source of the warm liquid; blood was dripping from Criston’s nose, falling over his lips down to his chin.

“S-sorry, your grace. I’m overwhelmed is all.” He muttered, hand immediately going up to face to stop the dripping. But you only pull his hand away with a smirk.

“You know,” you begin, thumbing some of the blood and smearing it over his lips, “in the way of Old Valyria, we share blood when we marry.”

“Please, please,” he croaks, big dark eyes boring desperately into your own. They’re shiny and lack any coherent thoughts, “Don’t say such things to me now— can’t control myself.”

“We use dragon glass to cut one another’s lip,” you take your bloodied thumb and swipe red onto your bottom lip, “then we kiss to show we are of the same blood now.”

His leg begins to bounce and he has to look away from your face. His nose continues to drip blood, but neither of you move to stop it this time.

“You like that idea~ i can tell because you’re shaking.” You giggle into his ear.

“M’not shaking-” he replies, but even his voice trembles.

“Well you’re bleeding, is that not a sign?” You tilt your head, “perhaps you’re unwell, should I stop?”

Before he can beg you not to stop, his sharp ears catch the sound of clicking armor in the hall. He tenses, almost forgetting he was in the Princess’ chambers; he doesn’t know how when yours was easily three-times the size of his own. There was no need to panic and hide, people were not permitted to just walk in.

Three hard knocks sounded throughout the room, causing Criston to freeze. Your expression didn’t change, as you’d heard the footsteps.

“Who is it? Do not enter please.” You answered, your eyes not leaving your knight’s. As nervous as he was, Criston maintained eye contact and didn’t move a muscle. With a small grin, your hand traveled back up to his chin, which was now smeared with blood. As your fingers traced his features, you leaned in close to his ear to place a few gentle kisses there.

“Princess, it’s Ser Jessil. Your sister, the Princess Rhaenyra, has sent for you. She is… perhaps you should open the door to let me explain. It concerns your safety.”

Your reactions vary; Criston’s posture is still stiff and he’s growing annoyed at the knight’s presence. It’s almost offensive how this pathetic creature is trying to protect you when that’s his job. But you’re worried, though you won’t show it. Rhaenyra? Is something wrong? But something about it didn’t make sense; if your safety was threatened, then why did Rhaenyra know first and why did Jessil bother knocking at all?

“I’d prefer you explain from where you are.”

You could hear his sigh through the door, an impressive feat, “She is suspicious that a knight of the king is sneaking into your chambers.”

Probably because it was true, you thought, glancing at a stiff and unhappy Criston.

“Let me ready myself and I will speak with her at once.” As you began to shift off of your shield, but he only pouted and desperately hung on. He had the mind to keep quiet, but his heart wouldn’t allow you to leave him.

“… Yes, Princess.”

You turned to him sternly, “Let go, Criston. Don’t be foolish, just hide for now and be gone when we leave.” You quietly scolded and his grip loosened.

He clenches his jaw, the most common hint to his annoyance, and said nothing. He allowed you to pull him up by the hand and drag him over to your wardrobe, shutting him in with a last apologetic kiss.

“Be good.” You uttered, and his gaze softened for a moment before the door shut in his face.

He could hear you shuffle around, dressing quickly to see your sister. He sucked his teeth angry. Did he deserve mistreatment? To an extent, yes, he could admit that. But this wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t you just— stay? Tell him to kill that bothersome knight and be done with him entirely. His fists clenched. He’d kill him— and soon. Right now even. Then he’d take you away and give you a nice little home with sweet little silver-haired babies. Criston was growing sick of waiting, it was eating him up inside. You affected him so severely, it was showing itself physically. He brought a hand up to the crimson liquid that had finally stopped leaking from his nose.

You were gone now— he knew this because he could feel when you were near. But someone was in your chambers, someone closer to his size. He could hear the metal clanking of heavy armor. The person was looking for something, an intruder most likely. But Criston was not the intruder here. The idea of someone who wasn’t him being in your space made him burn with anger. That was fine, he decided, he’d handle it. With balled up fists, he stepped out from the wardrobe.

“Has Ser Jessil been good to you, little sister?”

You shrugged at Rhaenyra, your chin resting in your hand as you leaned on the table. It wasn’t polite, but you were comfortable in her presence, “He’s fine, I suppose.”

“But you prefer that dog of yours.” Your sister teased. You could tell she didn’t like that— didn’t like Criston. You understood.

“He’s good, listens well.”

“Not for long— I can see it well. He’s a sick thing, sister.”

“I can handle him, he does as I ask.”

“He’s greedy, an oath breaker.”

You hummed in agreement, “He has pretty eyes.”

Rhaenyra scoffed with a grin at your reply, “He will try to steal you away. Not just that, but he’s also obvious. Painfully so. If I know, someone else does too. He needs to be put out. Be rid of him.”

“I… understand that he’s got troublesome feelings. But he’s become something of a pet to me now.” You pouted and your sister sighed, not fond of upsetting you.

“When I ascend the throne, he will be gone. I worry he’ll be your downfall.” She wasn’t being dramatic, she’d disliked the man for years and saw every bit of concerning behavior he displayed. She saw clearly his desperation to leave with you. When it comes time for you to marry, he’ll go mad.

You knew whatever you had with Criston wasn’t permanent, but to hear your elder sister give away her intentions of getting rid of him really struck you. “He’s brainless, Rhaenyra. Just a dog, truly. He can hardly read. He’s only a threat physically, and he would never hurt me.”

Rhaenyra sighed, wrinkling her nose in distaste for the man. She used to be like you, still was sometimes, but she would protect you from her mistakes. She would not allow any whispers at court of you being a whore and your children being bastards, not like her. Since the birth of Jacaerys, she’d grown just a bit more serious, and much more protective.

“You needn’t be literate to kill a man.” She replied after a brief silence.

You held back a huff. The truth was that Criston could read fine these days, though not nearly at the level you could. You’d only said that to give the illusion of harmlessness. Unfortunately, Rhaenyra would never buy it; she had seen the knights he’d bloodied during tournaments.

“I’ll be harder on him then, perhaps add a bit of distance. But, sister, he is important. As a member of the Kingsguard, his support and loyalty will aid your claim. One more soldier on our side— a good one.”

“I will not sacrifice you for my cause.”

“I’ve told you, he will not harm me—”

“It’s more complex than that—!”

It felt like you were 13 and 14 again, bickering over something that was caused by your sisters protectiveness.

No, you will not be coming with me. You will sleep in your bed and I will wake you myself come morning!

If that stable boy looks at you that way again, I will have father or Uncle Daemon take his eyes— probably Daemon.

No, sister. You are mad if you think I’m letting you anywhere near a wild dragon—!

You sometimes think that Criston and Rhaenyra hate one another because they are a bit similar.

“Nyra,” you groaned, head in hands, “I will fix it, you’re right, he has become a bit… extreme lately. But you must admit he’d be beneficial to our cause.”

Although Rhaenyra was legally the heir to the throne, there were already whispers of putting Alicent’s son, Aegon, on the throne in her place. Criston wasn’t very powerful politically, but he was a brilliant fighter and his words as a Kingsguard held just a bit of sway.

She furrowed her brows, “You’re too fond of him.”

You shrugged, standing up, “Perhaps. But I’m no fool; you come first. I will never flee with him.”

“And when he realizes that?”

You didn’t have an answer. You passed Harwin Strong on your way out, and bit your tongue to stop myself from calling out the hypocrisy.

What was the difference between her and Harwin vs you and Criston?

Well for starters, Harwin didn’t murder any man who entered Rhaenyra’s vicinity. Criston on the other hand…

By the time you returned to your chambers, the entire stone floor was red, the liquid seeping into your intricate carpet you’d had since you were a child. There was no body, suggesting that Criston had already gotten rid of it or the victim managed to escape. (But that was unlikely, Criston was a beast in a fight, and his temper was unmatched.)

“Princess.” Criston croaked from behind you, in the open doorway. He’d just arrived, and it took only one glance at him to know what he’d done. Blood covered his hands, arms, and chest. It was splattered from his face all the way down to his knees. He was in his civilian clothes still, rather than any armor due to being put on leave. His eyes were shiny, some sense of desperation in them, and he was fiddling with his red hands. Nervous. Why were you back so early? The sling for his arm was gone, though he surely still needed it.

“Is—” You cleared your throat. “Is he alive?”

But judging by the brain matter on the ground, you knew the answer was—

“No.” Direct and honest. He took a few steps forward, shutting the door behind him. You weren’t scared of him necessarily— you knew well enough at this point that he’d never hurt you. But he didn’t look quite human at the moment, so you took a step back.

Your simple shuffle backwards was enough to send him into a panic.

He dropped to his knees, blood soaking into his breeches as he inched closer, “My love— he was threat! He would’ve found me in here—” He babbled on about protecting you, begging for you not to be afraid. You let him talk, focused on the blood.

“Clean this up.” You finally muttered, patting him quickly on the head to avoid soaking yourself with the crimson liquid.

As much as a part of you wanted to coo at him ‘good dog’, you couldn’t. This was messy— emotional and obvious. Risky. He was a bad dog, a stupid one even. He wasn’t like Harwin— manageable. He was something else entirely. You liked him how he was, violently loyal and protective, but you couldn’t have it.

He quickly agreed to clean it and began to calm down, which led him to notice your own unease. He flinched when he saw how much blood seeped into your shoes and skirt, pulling you into his arms and placing you on your favorite stool.

He was cooing at you, “Sweet Princess, don’t worry about this, yes? I’ll rid you completely of this man, I swear it. I allowed his blood to soil your clothes, I’m sorry.”

Criston kissed at your collar bones down your arms to your palms.

“Criston,” his eyes shot up to meet yours. Big brown heart eyes. “No more of this, not in this castle.”

His hands tightened slightly around your wrists, “But you like it.” He muttered.

“It isn’t about that—!” You held your tongue, deciding to take a smarter approach, “My sweet Criston, the people in the Keep will soon notice a pattern, I cannot let that happen. My sister needs nothing in her way of that crown.”

He nearly scoffed, “Is it always about your sister and her crown? I have protected you again! From-from these perverts who wish to—”

“You’re the pervert-!”

“You love me! You love it! How you affect me— how you can physically see every thought that goes through my head about you! You love how perverted I am for only you! I see you— I love every part of you, even the part that gets off on a Kingsguard soiling his cloak for you!” Criston was shaking, “I am sick, and you cannot get enough! Just as I will never tire of you— I need you!”

There was silence, besides his heavy breathing. You didn’t expect such self-awareness, and you didn’t like it. You liked him better dumb, but it appeared he never was fully clueless. His brown eyes were wide and a shade darker than usual.

“Sit.” You commanded and he did, “Just clean this up.”

[taglist] @3abydolll @pearlstiare @caramelcandescence @eilishchaos @watercolorskyy

The Rhaenyra/Criston beef is gonna go crazy in the prequel

im hoping you guys noticed, but this chapter was meant to emphasize the lack of control the reader truly has on criston. like yeah, he worships you and is willing to do almost anything you say, but his urges control him more than anything else ever will. this is going to be a common theme in the future. i also wanted this chapter to show more daily life and readers relationship with rhaenyra compared to part i.

#dark! hotd #yandere hotd #hotd x reader #got x reader #yandere got #yandere criston cole #yandere asoiaf #criston cole #criston cole x reader #obsessive criston cole #dark criston cole #ser criston #targaryen reader

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