#i love that it's canon that he agrees but leaves it well over a decade before actually doing it
Text
The Harkonnen's Claim
Feyd-Rautha x Atreides!Reader
Summary: Your brother, Paul, took you from Feyd in a vulnerable moment, and if he wants the woman he loves back, he will have to give your brother something in return.
Notes/Warnings: this is part 2 of 2. Ignore canon ages in the timeline. I don’t know what they are, but everyone young is in their twenties, cool? Cool. Dune inaccuracies. Mention of pregnancy (present) and miscarriage (past). Jessica and Paul kind of (very much) suck. Feyd’s a soft boy for our reader. Smutty-ish (18+) and fluffy stuff, tidbit of angst. I'm sure there are spelling mistakes. I read it twenty times, but you know how it is. I think that’s it.
Words: 3300
Feyd Masterlist Part 1
You can’t see him—your eyelids are too heavy—but he’s shouting. Cursing. With each of his grunts glass shatters and metal clangs against the walls. Feminine voices are shrieking in sync with the rageful sounds coming from your lover and his actions. He is scaring them. He shouldn’t be scaring them. It isn’t their fault.
“Get out!” he yells.
More shrieks. Multiple pairs of feet rapidly shuffle about. The door slams and then Feyd is sitting beside you on the bed, one hand brushing your hair back from your forehead, the other rubbing up and down your forearm and pulling it onto his lap.
“My love…” he says, “It’s ok. You’re ok.”
You swallow hard and peel open your eyelids to see his face hovering above you. A sigh leaves his lips when his eyes connect with yours.
“They were only here to help,” you mutter.
Feyd bites down hard, sharpening the line of his jaw. He has much to say, you know, but he struggles to release his frustration in any manner other than shouting or fighting in the arena. Right now, he can’t do either.
“They did nothing to help,” he softly snaps.
But he’s wrong. The women he brought in to examine you did exactly as they were told. It’s just that their conclusion upon taking a look at you was not what he, nor you, expected to hear.
“Considering the excessive bleeding, she seems to have—” the woman paused; you could hear the tremble in her voice “—lost the baby, my Na-Baron. I’m very sorry.”
Neither of you has spoken about heirs or lineage or combining the genetics of Great Houses. You hadn’t even known of your pregnancy until you heard them tell Feyd that you are no longer carrying the child, and yet, you feel a tremendous loss. You instantly wonder what that child would have been. A boy? A girl? Would they have been a warrior like their father? Or more level-headed like their mother? Maybe a combination of both—that would probably be best for everyone.
“We’ll try again when you feel better,” Feyd tells you, leaning down and pressing his forehead into yours.
Slowly closing your eyes, you reach a hand up to rest on the back of his neck, your thumb caressing between his ear and the curve of his jaw. “Feyd, we weren’t trying to begin with.”
“Does that mean we shouldn’t?” he asks. “You are meant to be the mother of my heir.”
You sigh. “Feyd–”
“You are,” he demands, but you can detect his hidden plea. “You will be.”
—
They are scared of him—your son—or, at least, she is.
With your ear pressed against the door, you can hear them in the halls. Mother and son arguing over your value.
“Get rid of them, Paul, while you still can,” Lady Jessica implores him. “It’s in our best interest. You have no idea the kind of man she will raise that baby to be.”
But Paul has embraced his new role. There’s no hesitation in how he speaks to her anymore. His words are firm, but well-chosen. He truly was born to be a leader, just not the leader the Universe agreed on.
“The boy will one day be the Baron, and by then, he will have grown stronger than most, his father included,” Paul confirms. “But we only benefit from having that on our side. From Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen’s need for my sister, an alliance will be formed that could last decades, maybe centuries. But if you harm her, he will come at us in a way his House never has before. And if he finds out you also took his child from him then he’ll spend the rest of his life hunting you, me, Alia…Chani…your future grandchildren—he won’t stop.”
Paul sighs. You can picture him running his hand through his curly locks. He’s done that ever since he was a child. From the moment his little hand could reach above his head, his fingers would be playing with that hair. His mother scolded him wherever he did it in front of the other families of great Houses. ‘Makes you appear anxious,’ she would say, and no son of hers was permitted to come off as anything but respectable in front of their equals. She knew of the man he would one day become. But her nagging didn’t help him in the end.
“Paul, listen to m–”
“QUIET,” he commands in the Voice that seems to ripple through the halls. “You act as if I won that duel without effort. As if I could do it again in my sleep. But not only did he survive what should have killed him, he almost killed me,” he reminds her. “So do not let your hatred for my sister lead us down a vulnerable path.”
You pull your ear away from the door. How strange that you always knew she hated you and yet never heard it from anyone’s lips until now. You can’t say it hurts, but it does affirm that the only thing keeping you alive is the one thing you didn’t want to be: Feyd’s weakness. He’s saving you even though you’re out of reach. You and the baby he put inside of you.
You run your hand over your clothed stomach. There’s no physical evidence of your pregnancy, but now that you know he’s there you can feel him…somehow. You feel his strength. You feel his grit. You feel what Lady Jessica fears, and you love it. You hope she lives in fear for many years, always keeping one eye on the half-Harkonnen child that her son commanded her to spare.
The doorknob twists and you quickly back away as Paul steps into your bedroom. His brows pinch when he sees how you’re standing in the middle of the room. You’re not resting, you’re not admiring the scenery outside your window, there’s no book in your hand—you look suspicious. You can practically hear his thoughts. What were you doing, sister?
“It’s time to go,” he tells you, stepping closer. You don’t have a chance to reply before the command “SLEEP” weaves into your brain. Your eyes close. Your body goes limp into your brother’s arms. Your mind shuts down. You’re gone.
—
It’s bright. The inside of your eyelids are glowing the same orange shade as the flower your father traditionally gifted you on your birthday. It’s brighter than Caladan and Arrakis. A brightness you know only comes from Giedi Prime’s midday sun.
You're moving but not by your own feet. Your eyelids flutter to adjust to your surroundings, and when they open, you find yourself tucked against a chest. An Atreides soldier, once your father’s, now sworn to serve your brother.
“Put me down,” you mumble, but he doesn’t. “Put me down!”
“Put her down if she wants to be put down,” Paul says. “She won’t go anywhere. This is exactly where she wants to be.”
You’re set on your feet, but the soldier’s hand wraps around your bicep as the group comes to a halt. You do a quick glance around. Sixteen soldiers, suitably armed and shields activated. More on the ship likely, ready to attack if necessary. One Bene Gesserit bitch. One intended emperor with the skin of your brother. And you, anxiously awaiting him.
“Atreides!”
Feyd steps out of the Harkonnen fortress alone. He walks down the lengthy walkway alone. He has a blade at his hip, a shield, but no soldiers. You know they are somewhere, though, hiding, waiting for his call if needed.
As the distance between you lessens, tears attempt to blur your vision, but you blink them away. Your legs quiver, and you would collapse to your knees if not for the vice grip on your arm. He’s alive. He’s so beautifully alive. He’s broad, and strong, and he’s stomping toward your brother like a predator honing in on its prey. You didn't know for sure what he would look like after near death, and the last two weeks gave your mind the will to run wild, but he's perfect. Like it never happened.
“Paul, you must reconsider,” Lady Jessica whispers from behind him. “We do not need him.”
“I decide who and what we need,” he says. “My sister, my negotiations.”
She tips her head and steps back into place before shooting you a glare that you refuse to acknowledge.
Feyd is closing in, but his next step is deemed too close for Paul. Weapons are drawn. A blade presses into your neck. Feyd pauses.
“Give me what's mine, Atreides!” he snaps.
He’s seething and makes no attempt to hide it as he paces along the invisible line your brother has drawn. His brow is low, a shadow over the blue eyes piercing through Paul’s head. He hasn’t looked at you, but you know he won’t. Not directly. He already knows what your brother has over him and there’s no need to remind him by giving in to the internal panic he’s fighting.
“Yours?” Paul returns. “She’s not yours yet, Harkonnen, so it would be wise of you to cooperate.”
Feyd practically growls, pale lips splitting to reveal black teeth as Paul gestures for you to stand beside him. The soldier shoves you forward and you turn to smack at his wrist.
“I know how to walk,” you grumble. “Bastard.”
Paul clasps his hands behind his back. “You want her; that is understandable. She wants to be with you, too. You should have seen how she fell apart when she thought you were dead,” your brother taunts. His tongue clicks to make a tsking sound.
Feyd’s fingers twitch at his side, itching to grab the hilt of his knife. You know a layer of red bleeds across his vision. His thoughts are a jumble of demands bouncing around his skull. Kill. Maim. Destroy. Take what’s yours. But he can’t. And, excluding his uncle, Feyd hasn’t ever faced a situation where he can’t do as he pleases with whatever stands in front of him.
“Do not push him too far, Paul,” you mutter in warning. “He's not alone, either.”
Your brother ignores you, voice raising as he says, “And your son? You would like to have him as well, yes?”
The pacing stops. Feyd’s lips softly part. His eyes widen ever so slightly and he finally looks at you. When you lightly nod, his jaw clenches.
Paul doesn’t miss the silent communication. “So,” he says, lifting his chin a half-inch, “are we calm now?”
Feyd inhales a deep breath and huffs it out through his nose. He does it again and again, chest puffing out then deflating like an animal desperate to strike. ‘Calm’ isn't exactly how you would describe him—good, you expect nothing less—but he’s not displaying the same heightened level of fury.
“What do you want, Atreides?” Feyd grunts.
“Loyalty,” Paul doesn’t hesitate to answer. “You are my cousin. You love my half-sister and the two of you will share a child, assuming you can behave yourself. Family should inherently be loyal to family, I believe. That’s a fair place to start.”
“To start?” Feyd spits. “Do not play with me, cousin. Tell me all that you want from me now.”
Paul’s lips curve in a slight smile. The same modest smile he used when greeting guests of your father’s. You have your own version of that smile. They are smiles capable of hiding secrets. Like the smiles you would give Lady Jessica in front of your father, and the smile Paul gave Princess Irulan when he formally claimed her hand days after the duel.
However, there are no secrets behind the smile this time. He knows exactly what he wants from your lover and takes pleasure in revealing the totality of it.
“This war is just beginning,” Paul tells Feyd. “The other Houses reject my leadership. You will not. You will make a public declaration that the Harkonnens will fight for me, alongside the Fremen,” he says. “If you refuse to fulfill this, I will return with every fighter I have. My sister will be our primary target and you will fail to protect her…again.”
The disrespect lingers in the air. To force a Harkonnen to kneel to an Atreides is a power Feyd once told you only you possess. But it appears Paul has forced an unexpected exception.
“There's nothing for you to debate, I imagine,” Paul says. “Not when it comes to the woman you love and your child.”
Paul gives a winning smirk at your lover’s silence—Feyd’s glare is answer enough.
With a hand firmly on the center of your back, your brother guides you forward. “Go on,” he instructs. “There's no reason to keep him waiting.”
You turn your head back to Paul, expecting a trick, but when he nods in encouragement you rush over to Feyd in a light jog so as not to get tangled up in the skirts you can’t wait to tear off your body. A pale hand reaches out for you and curls around your waist when you’re close enough to be pulled against his chest. A kiss lands on your hairline before his forehead falls to rest on yours.
“You're not hurt?” he asks.
“I'm fine,” you promise him.
“This will never have to become complex, Harkonnen,” Paul calls from his side. Your heads raise to look at him. “Your House now fights for mine. If loyalty is upheld, personal lines will not be crossed. In other words, your child and woman are safe from me as long as my empress, concubine, and children are safe from you.”
Feyd’s Adam’s apple bobs harshly with his hard swallow; another practice in tamping down his rage.
“I’m glad we can all walk away from this satisfied,” Paul continues, grinning ear to ear. “Except for my mother, of course. Were she given her way, my sister would be cut open on the floor and her womb ripped out of her. She doesn’t believe a Harkonnen can exercise restraint and respect agreements. I’m sure you’ll prove her wrong.”
Your dress tightens at your waist from Feyd’s fingers fisting into the material. “Keep your head,” you gently whisper. “Let him go.”
“You have three days to officially announce your allegiance,” Paul tells the two of you before turning to his ship. He enters first, followed by his mother who gives you a final look of disapproval, and then, two-by-two, his soldiers. Not until they’re a speck in the sky does Feyd place a hand on your cheek, guide your face to his, and seal his lips to yours.
—
He intends to burn the dress to ash in the built-in incinerator that the Harkonnens consider a fireplace. Before now, you haven’t seen it demonstrate its purpose. Feyd refused. “We do not need that,” he would tell you, somewhat offended when you would request a bit more warmth in the middle of the night while he was next to you. He’d strip himself of any clothing he might’ve been wearing and tuck you into his side. “See? You’re fine now.”
Tonight, however, he’s quick to turn the thing on and let it heat up as he takes his knife to the back of your gown, slicing through the buttons that trace along your spine until the material slips off your body. He helps you out of the ring of destroyed fabric at your feet before wadding it into a ball and tossing it into the flames.
Feyd hums, satisfied, then piece by piece the armor falls from his form until he’s bare with his body to yours, his lips sucking and nibbling, fingers kneading and exploring, cock easing in and out of your core. You cry as he bites into your neck, and soak in the moment for what it is compared to what it could have been had he not survived. How alone you would be. How distraught over what would become of you.
But he did survive. He’s here. You have him. His lips and teeth and touch and cock and heart—all yours. You have the warmth of his breath that brushes your face and neck and shoulders. You have his groans and moans; the perfect sounds he makes when he first enters you and when he cums. Everything you thought you’d lost is wrapped tightly in your arms. Safe. Protected.
He finishes inside of you twice, and as he begs for one more, the ache between your thighs tempts you to remind him he already got you pregnant. But when you study the tenderness in his eyes, your desire refreshes, the pain washes away, and you can’t get enough. You take until he can no longer give—when all he has the energy for is holding and kissing.
Feyd leans over you in the bed, your legs intertwined under the sheets and his hand at the back of your head as his mouth moves with yours.
“W-Wait,” you say between kisses. He hums against your lips and when you tilt your head back, he makes a noise of protest before joining them again. “I-I’m ser-ious.”
With his brow pinched, he pulls back to stare into your eyes. “What’s wrong?”
You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you search for a delicate way to question the effectiveness of his new authority. “Feyd, what’s going to happen? What will everyone think?” you ask. “Your people? Your soldiers?”
“That’s what bothers you right now while in this bed with me?” You nod. He sighs. “I observed my uncle in his time as Baron. I’m capable of explaining these changes in a manner that will have them think nothing of it. Should an outlier take issue, they will face the known consequences. The rest will do as I command,” he says, emphasizing his words with another kiss. “Just as they will do as you command and as our son will one day command.”
You shake your head. “Don’t be silly. No one on Giedi Prime will listen to me,” you tell him. “My voice doesn’t mean anything to them.”
“They'll respect the voice of their Baroness.”
Your brows raise. “Your wife?”
Feyd smirks and dips his head into the curve of your neck to lick and suck at sensitive skin. “Do you have objections, my love?”
It would be a lie to say you haven’t imagined being Feyd’s wife. It didn’t occupy your every thought, but it crossed your mind. Like when he would pluck out the eyes of the men who leered at you or remove the tongues of those who scoffed when you spoke. Or when you would watch him sleep and his face was unable to maintain the hard, stony stare that he brought back with him after dealing with his uncle. He’d be serene, the epitome of peace, and it was so lovely that sometimes you couldn’t help yourself. You would kiss his puffy lips until he woke to reciprocate, which led to him spreading your legs wide and stuffing his hard column of flesh between your folds. His ability to be gentle in his cruel world was how you knew he would be a good husband—to you, anyway. You have no idea the fate of his marriage were there a different bride.
His tongue runs over the bite mark and you gasp. “N-No.”
Lips trail along your jawline as his hand slides from the base of your neck between the valley of your breasts to settle on your stomach.
“He'll be strong,” Feyd says, looking at you. “Our boy.”
You chuckle. “Stronger than you, I heard.”
Feyd swallows, then nods in acceptance. “Good. He’ll need to be,” he says, thumb stroking just above your navel. “The only Atreides my son will answer to is his mother.”
A/N: i'd be open to doing future fics for them if anyone is interested. you can send in requests if you want, no pressure. I have a different feyd fic in the works atm as well
@unicoreads @haehwasworld @moonsoulk @lothiriel9 @landlockedmermaid77 @vintageroses10 @mamawiggers1980 @mrsjobarnes @aoi-targaryen @buckysteveloki-me @pao-prazz @skel-skell @barnes70stark @pekusofixus @vanilla88 @niragiswhore @benwishaw
#feyd rautha x reader#feyd rautha x you#feyd rautha#dune part 2#austin butler#feyd x reader#dune#feyd rautha harkonnen#dune movie
772 notes
·
View notes
Text
Context Clues: Elriel (and removal of the BC)
Happy Elriel month! This is my first one (I think most of you know that I am only about two months old in the online fandom) and I am still REELING from the fact that apparently not everyone needed to douse themselves in cold water after Elain and Azriel's interaction in the bonus chapter (and that Az is apparently both an incel AND a fuckboy, although those are mutually exclusive and non interchangeable traits. And Elain is secretly obsessed with Lucien and just toying with Az. But I digress.)
While I personally thought the bonus chapter confirmed Elriel, and of course others felt the complete opposite, I wanted to spend some time focusing on solely the books and seeing what we have. As we know, the bonuses are just *bonuses* available in a limited number of editions, in limited countries, and limited languages. I personally read all bonus chapters, but many don't. So excluding the BC from the conversation, where did A Court of Silver Flames leave us?
Here is the final on page interaction between Azriel and Elain in ACOSF:
A charged glance that takes Elain's breath away.
Here is the final on page interaction between Elain and Lucien in ACOSF:
Elain shrinks into herself after opening a present from her mate.
Here are the previous interactions between Azriel and Elain in ACOSF:
Elain acting all shy around Azriel.
Azriel's shadows ready to throw hands over Elain's hurt feelings.
Here are the previous on page interactions between Elain and Lucien:
There are none.
However, there are references, and they are as follows:
Lucien choosing to live in the human lands despite his mate living in Velaris.
Lucien dripping with discomfort over his presence only being expected because of Elain.
Meanwhile, here is Azriel referencing Elain when she is not there:
Azriel's shadows swarming and being unable to calm down at the mere thought of something happening to Elain.
Azriel stiffening at the mention of Elain's capture, and reminding Cassian he helped rescue her.
Nesta only agreeing to scrying because she trusts Azriel with Elain, the only person who could understand other than her or Feyre.
I have always, and will always reiterate that I am personally Lucien and Gwyn positive. Maybe that's because I'm so new, and haven't been whittled down from all the rudeness yet. (literally as I was working on this post, I got an unprompted comment from an E/ucien on one of my tiktoks that they can't wait to laugh at me when she chooses Lucien. It's annoying. And it sucks. But I know all sides do it.)
I joined the space because I was so overwhelmed by the negative Elain content. By the erasure of her thoughts and feelings and experiences. Bonus content aside, I also feel for Lucien, and my shipping him with Vassa is because he blushes and laughs and relaxes around her. Because she is fiery like Jesminda, the only other female he has ever loved. I don't personally have a ship for Gwyn yet because my reading experience hasn't taken me there in the story yet!
Look, I'm still out here shipping Klaroline and TVD and The Originals went their separate ways almost a decade ago. Ships should be fun. They don't always have to be canon. I'm simply sharing that the reason I make this content for you guys is to provide some comfort to people like me, who felt overwhelmed and gaslit by all the hatred for Elain- dissertations and powerpoints dedicated to erasing her and her value and feelings- as someone who read the books and loved her, as well as her dynamic with Azriel.
I will continue to refrain from discussing the bonus chapter (in this post) no matter how SEXY it was, and how in line it is with everything already happening in the books, but I'm just trying to showcase what the experience is for book readers only, which is the vast majority globally.
Stay kind out there, and manifesting a book announcement soon! Happy Elriel month, all!
115 notes
·
View notes
Text
TOP GUN / Icemav fic recs part 7
New year, new rec list for icemav fics!!
Rec list 1 here
Rec list 2 here
Rec list 3 here
Rec list 4 here
Rec list 5 here
Rec list 6 here
Take It or Leave It by @icezansky
If he’s honest with himself (and he rarely is, when it comes to this) a secret part of him can admit what he won’t ever say aloud: he’d get on his knees for Pete “Maverick” Mitchell for far less than the promise of quiet weeknights.
I'm usually a hard sell on AU fics, but this one just absolutely nailed it. Both Ice and Mav are excellently characterised, the smut is super hot, and it just leaves me wanting for more.
the cure i know (that soothes the soul) by @eighteaseven
Mav had been leaning against the open bar when he heard some twenty-something kid ask his friend who the old man was.
And with a smarmy, disrespectful little smirk, the kid tilted his head in Mav's direction and answered, “Oh, him? That’s Kazansky’s wife,” and his friend laughed at the answer.
-
Or; Maverick figures out what it means to live as the partner of the Secretary of the Navy.
Old! Men! In! Love! I love fics that focus on the two of them figuring out how to shape their lives around each other, what they're willing to prioritise and what they're willing to give up and what they aren't, so this was just such a great treat for me personally <3
Separation by @elwenyere
Ice has a security deposit box at a storage facility under a false name. There isn’t much in it - no tax records or family heirlooms - just three letters from a boy he met at summer camp, a blurry Polaroid of a man’s back stretched out against motel sheets, and a copy of Nan Goldin’s The Ballad of Sexual Dependency.
Rolling around in this one forever. I love fic that leans into the historical ins and outs of the eras that a canon is set in, and this does that so well, blending in the characters to the historical backdrop of the 80s. Elwen's writing is so raw and beautiful, if you haven't read her works before, I can only heartily recommend that you start now.
Kings of the Air by @fabula-rasa
Fighting and fucking: two things he did extraordinarily well. How could he have known what the effect would be when you combined the two?
This one really sets the tone for what icemav fic should be. Truly grateful that this one got posted for us all to enjoy. The ups and downs feel very in character, and are all so very worth it.
What You Don’t Know by chemm80
Maverick finds Iceman handcuffed to his bed. He has a hard time getting over it.
This plays in the universe of the above fic, and does it beautifully. The expansion of the world and the characters is so good - I love how Ice and Mav speak to each other and how they revolve around each other here.
He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother by V_Evergreen
Five meetings between Thomas Kazansky and Ethan Hunt.
I love this fic so much!!! The interactions between Ice and Ethan, Ethan and Mav, and Mav and Ice all hit so good. The dialogue is spot on and each chapter is absolutely perfect, and usually very funny. Great combination <3
Granted by copacet
One of the people Maverick had never managed to get along with was his previous commander, a clash of personalities which had worried Iceman greatly at first but which turned out to be a boon: when the time had finally come, the man agreed to transfer Maverick to Iceman’s own command with obvious relief. “You want that insubordinate sonuvabitch?” he’d said. "Hell, better you than me."
Iceman agreed.
(Or: a decade after their first meeting, five times Maverick requests Iceman's permission to do something, and five times Iceman gives it.)
Ice and Mav are so sweet here, and so very in love - the back and forth between them is so good, the little moments that make up a relationship depicted softly and perfectly.
3am by @icemankazansky
Iceman Kazansky took "me time" how and where he could get it.
Carly's fics are always so full - full of life, full of breadth, full of movement and heart. This fic manages to say so, so much about Ice, and about Ice and Mav's relationship as well. I hold it very close to my heart.
sweet nothings by @dannykaffee
Ice takes Mav on a little trip.
Mav gets treated well by his boyfriend!! You love to see it!! Strawberries, cream, a get away to a lake, what else can you ask for.
take any form by elizabethgee
Ice gets a call that Maverick has gone MIA.
The hurt/comfort here is so good! Ice thinking that Mav is in danger, that he's MIA and has to hide how he's feeling from everyone, yeah that's the good stuff.
Morning Cuddles by SharaRaizel
A 5+1 fic of IceMav through the years. 5 times Maverick had to put effort into keeping Iceman in bed and 1 time he didn't.
What it says on the tin. Just the two of them being sweet and soft and good <3
#icemav#iceman#maverick#tg#rec list#fic rec#it has been a minute since i wrote up one of these but i did not stop gathering fics in the meanwhile ahaha
73 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Dangers of Hope Epilogue
Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.
Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.
Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.
Chapter Warnings: None.
Word Count: 5,849
A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.
If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊
I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.
I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️
A/N 2: So this is it, the epilogue, the end. I'm so sad to say goodbye to this series. I've really loved writing it, even if it kicked my ass a couple of times. I know I've said this already, but it definitely bears repeating - I'm so unbelievably grateful for the love and support you've all shown this series. Thanks so much - and I hope you enjoy this little peak into Dean and Y/N's lives a decade later. This ended up about twice as long as I'd planned. Lol! Enjoy! ❤️
Main Master List || Series Master List || Tag Lists
The dividers below were created by @saradika
Spring, 10 Years Later
The rumbling engine of the Impala was silenced as Dean pulled into the garage and parked Baby in her spot. The camp had eight cars now, so they'd had to expand the garage two summers before. The cars got shuffled around all the time, but Baby always kept her spot on the end. Everyone knew it was her spot.
The late afternoon sun shone in through the garage windows as Dean removed the keys from the ignition and pushed them back into his black, denim jacket pocket.
Sam was sitting beside him and shot him a questioning look when Dean didn't immediately jump out. “Dean?”
Dean nodded and then looked over at his little brother. “Do you think I did the right thing?”
Sam sighed. He'd already answered this question from his brother, in various forms, three or four times.
The Deerling Survivors Camp, a small camp located almost seventy miles away, had sent a message to Dean a week earlier, requesting a face-to-face meeting. Dean had asked Sam to come along and they'd stayed overnight at the fledgling camp. The pseudo-leader there, just a young kid who’d been thrust into the role, had asked them to let Deerling join Camp Chitaqua, and after seeing the shape of the camp, Dean had agreed on the spot.
Years earlier the four smaller camps surrounding Chitaqua had joined them, expanding the camp by miles and miles and raising the population by more than two hundred people. It had been a big decision, and Dean had consulted with the council for a couple days before agreeing to the expansion.
It was a very good decision in the end, since they now had enough land to plant six, four acre farm plots. They made sure to rotate crops, leaving one field fallow every season and using it for grazing pasture. But all that fertile land meant that the campers all had plenty of fresh vegetables. Their expanded size also allowed them to enlarge their barn, so they could now house and care for four cows and a bull, two horses, dozens of chickens, a rooster, two pigs, and eight sheep.
They'd bartered and traded with other camps for most of their animals or found them wandering around alone and unclaimed. But they bought their sheep from a farmer living in what used to be Iowa. A lot of farmers had started over there, scratching out a new life from the soil, now that the world had started turning once again.
Seven years ago they'd finally succeeded in producing a vaccine. It had taken a lot of hard work. For three years, every single person that worked on it did so with nothing more than a promise of a better tomorrow.
It had taken another two plus years to get the word and the vaccine out to people, but now most of the population was vaccinated. The vaccine had also been carried overseas. They couldn't be sure how things were going across the pond because communication was still very limited. But they'd heard rumors that it was going well.
Some infrastructure was up and running again; they had electricity in some places, and some cities had running water again. There were even some places that had phone lines connected - in and around the bigger cities where people were beginning to congregate.
Things seemed to be progressing quickly out west in the former California, where they'd reportedly started broadcasting some form of Television again. Not very many people had TVs anymore to watch, but it seemed comforting to people just to know something resembling their former lives was returning.
Not everything was perfect, of course. There was no centralized government, or structured, widespread laws. Most areas had variations of camps like Chitaqua with leaders in charge, or occasionally small, internally elected governments that ran the camp. Lawlessness still existed in a lot of places, but it was being beaten further back every day as groups banded together.
There were also still some areas that were uninhabitable because massive groups of Croats still roamed there. The researchers that had created the vaccine were working on a cure for those who’d already been infected, but thus far they’d proved unsuccessful. Croat attacks still happened sometimes, but the vaccine meant that people just had to deal with the bite itself, making sure it was healing properly - something that was becoming easier as medical stations were springing up in and around larger populations as well, as doctors went back to healing people as they’d been trained to do.
Chitaqua had a physician, Dr. Turner, who lived in the camp. The Medical Tent was no more and instead the doctor’s office and their cache of medical supplies were now housed in a big log structure that had been tiled inside to keep it as clean and sanitary as possible. Patrick was happy to be rid of guard duties these days, working alongside Dr. Turner to watch over the health and well-being of the campers.
There weren’t many tents left nowadays either. They had a bunch stored away in case the camp ended up with a big influx of new campers and temporary housing was needed. But most people lived in log cabins of varying sizes, dotted over the two and a half square miles of the camp. There were well over five hundred people in the camp now, since amalgamating the four other camps. They also had a reputation for being a prosperous, strong community, so people tended to migrate there as well - which continued to add to their numbers.
Now, after the meeting with the Deerling camp, they’d be adding another ninety-six people to their ranks, inflating their population to nearly seven hundred people. Dean was worried about the fact that he’d made the decision to absorb the smaller camp without consulting the council this time.
The council was a group made up of eight other people besides Dean. Sam and Y/N were on it, as well as Brandy, Risa, Dr. Turner, and three other campers who were there representing the hunters, the farmers and the builders.
Day-to day decisions were still handled by Dean, but he relied on the council for other bigger decisions - taking their thoughts, ideas and opinions into account before he ultimately made a decision. Agreeing to take in another flock of people and develop another thirty acres of land was definitely one of those big decisions he’d normally take to the council, which was why, Sam knew, Dean had been second guessing his unilateral decision to say yes to Deerling’s request.
Sam shook his head at his brother as he answered Dean’s worry again. “Dean, you acted out of generosity, the council will understand. I can vouch for the fact that those campers need a lot of help very quickly. Those kids were starving, you could see that.”
Dean nodded. “Yeah, I know, but I just brought the camp more strain on resources with no benefits.”
Sam shrugged. “Well, there’s the land.”
Dean scoffed. “Yeah, unfarmable land that’s separated from us by almost eighty miles. And Brisbane camp sits between us and Deerling, and they already think we’re trying to take them over. Joining with a group on the other side of them is gonna make them even more suspicious and possibly turn them unfriendly.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I should have consulted the council.”
“Dean, there’s no way the council would have opted to just let a bunch of kids and sick people die. They’re definitely going to agree with your decision, and this way you’ve simply ensured that we can get food and medicine out to them by tomorrow instead of making them wait days for it. Trust me, you made the right decision.”
Dean grunted his response, still unsure.
Sam slapped the back of his hand against Dean’s shoulder. “Now, I’m gonna go talk with the Doc about getting supplies together and coming out there with me tomorrow. Will you talk with Brandy later about food?”
Dean nodded. “Yeah.” A smile finally lit his face. “And then I’m goin’ home.”
Sam smiled and opened his door to climb out of the Impala. “Good plan. Give Y/N and the kids a kiss for me.”
Dean climbed out too and slammed his door behind him. He called Sam back as his brother began to walk away.
“We should also figure out a time and day to have a sit down with the new leader from Brisbane, talk with her about our intentions regarding Deerling. She’s tough, but she seems more approachable and level-headed than their last leader. Maybe we can convince her we’re not looking to take anything over.”
Sam nodded. “That’s a good idea.”
Dean frowned. “What’s her name again?”
“Eileen Leahy.”
Dean noticed his brother’s cheeks turn pink and he immediately turned back into an annoying big brother, his grin wide.
“Right, right, you met with her alone last time. She’s cute, huh? Something we should know? Maybe you should invite her over to our place for dinner next week. We can have our little sit down conversation then. What do you think?”
Sam had already turned and started walking away. “You’re an idiot!” He called back over his shoulder. But Dean made a mental note to tell Y/N all about it later.
With Y/N firmly in mind he started out across the camp. Their cabin was situated on top of a low hill in the Southwest section of the camp, not all that far from where their old red tent used to sit.
They’d built their cabin when they came back to Chitaqua eight years ago after helping to set up the research facility. The vaccine was still a year away, but they’d done all they could do and they were ecstatic that after two years of traveling back and forth from camp, gathering doctors, researchers and searching for other psychic kids, (they’d only found two others) and after Y/N had given gallons of her blood to science, they could finally come home for good.
Not long after returning home, Y/N realized she was pregnant and Dean became obsessed with building them a beautiful home. It was around that time that the camps had all joined together and building homes for everyone became a priority of the camp.
The builders grew in numbers as they took on apprentices and taught them the trade so that more people in the camp could join in the work. It took almost four years of constant building, but eventually all five hundred plus campers had permanent homes.
Gotta pull the tents out for the Deerling folks, Dean thought as he walked, his mind immediately occupied with figuring out the logistics of where the new campers could stay, and how they could join in the life of the camp, once they were all healthy.
He stopped by Food Storage and spoke with Brandy as Sam had requested. And just as his brother had suspected, when he explained the situation, Brandy was one council member who was very glad he’d made the decision he had. He felt more sure now that the others would feel the same.
As Dean wound his way through camp he got stopped quite a few times, people wanting to talk with him about one concern or another. He generally pointed them in the direction of the person or group in the camp that could help them. But he also got stopped by friends wanting to say hi and talk for a moment or two.
He was happy to talk, but anxious to get home to Y/N.
He looked out towards the large school building where Y/N still taught every day. The new building had been built on the site where the main cabin had been burned down. It was even bigger than the old cabin, with six rooms for the seven teachers that worked there now.
Y/N was also the principal of the school for all intents and purposes; she and the other teachers taught over two hundred kids from ages five to sixteen. Theresa had finished school and immediately joined the staff as a teacher, working with Y/N every day and loving it. Brandy was so proud.
But Dean wasn’t surprised to see the building empty now, however; he knew it was a day off. He picked up his pace, weaving through the buildings that resided where the old tents had taken up space.
They’d greatly expanded the food storage, and had an entirely different rations system now that fresh vegetables, fruit, fish and game made up the vast majority of their diet. Brandy was still in charge and was constantly innovating to make things easier and to stretch their food as far as they could in order to feed everyone.
The former tent area also housed three large storage sheds, a small building that worked as an office/meeting space for whatever group needed to use it, and a small mill where they processed the wheat they grew - that process had included a steep learning curve, but they’d eventually made it work.
There was also a small, open area where a kind of market had popped up organically as the campers traded amongst themselves for things like homemade jewelry, homemade clothes, and other non-essentials.
He walked behind the buildings and began climbing the gently rising path that led to their cabin at the top of the hill. About halfway home he heard loud barking and looked up to see their seven year old Bernese-Husky cross, Clifford, bounding towards him, the way he usually did when any of the family came home.
“Hey, boy.” Dean said softly, scratching him behind the ears. “Miss me?”
Clifford barked happily in answer and ran ahead and then back to where Dean stood, obviously urging him on towards home. Dean laughed and sped up, chasing after the big dog who sometimes still acted like a puppy.
As the path through the trees ended, opening up into their wide front yard, Dean sighed deeply. “Home sweet home.” He murmured.
Even though he'd been away less than two days, he was still so happy to be home. He felt the peace that filled him up every time he stepped around the last bend in the path and caught sight of their home in the distance.
The way smoke curled lazily from the chimney and the scent of something delicious wafted through the half open Dutch door, never failed to make him ache to get his arms around his wife and bask in her light. Dean shook his head at his sentimental thoughts, but hurried his pace to get inside.
As he drew closer however, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye and he turned his head to see his son walking East, coming out from behind the house. Dean figured he was heading over to his friend Freddie's, and he was about to continue on into the cabin, but then he noticed what his eight-year-old was holding in his hand.
“Gabriel Eric Winchester!”
Dean's voice bellowed out, freezing the young boy where he stood. Dean strode towards him, anger clear on his face. To the boy's credit, even when he turned and saw his father's anger, he still walked forward slowly, until he was standing directly in front of him.
The gun he held, however, was tucked just behind his back, as though he was hoping Dean hadn't noticed it.
Dean held his hand out. “Give that to me this second.”
Gabe's face fell and he brought the gun forward reluctantly, dropping it onto Dean's palm.
Dean immediately checked to make sure the small, .38 caliber, Smith and Wesson revolver was unloaded and when he saw it was, he held it in his fist, directly in front of Gabe's eyes.
“What the hell do you think you're doing with this?”
His son's eyes were wide and they got watery quickly.
He shrugged. “I was just gonna bring it to Freddie's. Josh said he could teach us to shoot.” He said, referring to his friend’s older brother. “Just cans on a fence.” He was quick to reassure Dean.
“And did you ask your mother if you could remove a gun from the weapons chest?” Dean asked, already well aware of the answer.
Gabe shook his head. “No.” He said quietly.
“How did you get it?” Dean asked brusquely.
Gabriel’s voice was still soft as he admitted what he’d done. “I grabbed it yesterday when mom took out a rifle to scare away some raccoons that were trying to get into the compost. Josh said he could teach us if we had guns. So when I saw it last night I just…” He trailed off as he looked up at Dean's face.
“So what you're telling me,” Dean said quietly, “is that while your mother's back was turned you STOLE a gun and planned to use it without asking either of us for permission.”
Gabe's tears spilled down his cheek at his father's disappointed tone and accurate words. He nodded and then sniffed.
“I'm sorry.” He said thickly.
Dean crouched down so he could look his son in the eye. “Gabe, a gun is not a toy. I thought you knew this. It's not something to mess around with or use on a whim. It is a weapon. It's incredibly dangerous. If you'd gone off and started shooting, even just at cans, you could have seriously hurt or killed yourself or your friends. Do you understand me?”
Gabe nodded but bit his lip. “But you carry a gun.” He said, pointing to the ever present gun strapped to Dean’s thigh. “And you started using guns when you were even younger than me. I heard you talking about it to mom before. And I…” He sniffled again. “I just wanted to be like you.”
Dean sighed and shook his head. “Oh, buddy, I want you to be so much more than me. Your mom and I, we've worked really hard to make things better for you guys, to make the world safer so that when you grow up, hopefully you won’t have to walk around with a gun strapped to you at all times. It’s my job to protect the people in this camp. That’s why I carry a gun, and why I sometimes carry a rifle. But that’s not your job. Your job is to just be a little boy.”
Dean saw Gabriel pout a bit about being called a little boy. He smiled gently and squeezed his son’s shoulders. “Trust me, buddy, you should enjoy being a kid, don’t try to grow up too quickly.”
Gabe nodded begrudgingly and Dean pulled his son in for a hug. After a moment, he pulled back from him and stood up straight again, before nodding towards the cabin. “Go to your room now until supper, and when you come out, you’ll owe your mother an apology for going behind her back. Also, nothing but school and home for a week, do you understand?”
Gabe looked like he wanted to argue, but thought better of it when Dean gave him a stern look. “Yes, sir.” He said in acceptance and turned to run into the cabin.
“Gabriel!” Dean called. When his son turned back, the tear tracks on his grubby cheeks still visible, Dean spoke quietly but with conviction. “I love you and that’s why I know you can do better.”
Gabe’s face lost some of its forlorn look and he gave Dean a slightly awkward smile, lightly banging his fist against the side of his leg. “Love you too, Dad.” He said quickly before bolting for the house.
Dean shook his head and slipped the gun into his inside jacket pocket. He’d have to have a few more conversations with his son about gun safety and responsibility, but he was confident he could drill the dangers into him.
He walked up the stairs to the front door, more than ready to see Y/N and his girls. When he walked inside, however, he could hear voices coming from behind the kitchen door, and they didn’t sound very happy.
He pushed open the swinging door and saw Y/N and Emma inside. Y/N’s face lit up. “Dean!” She said happily as she saw him and crossed to the door to pull him down for a kiss.
“Ew.” Emma said.
It was the standard reaction from all of their kids when they kissed in front of them. Emma had a hand over her eyes as Dean finished the kiss and looked over to where she stood by the sideboard that held all their plates, cups and glasses.
“You can look now, kiddo, we’re all finished.” Dean told her with a grin. “For the moment.”
Emma rolled her eyes and made Dean chuckle. Y/N frowned up at him. “Did I hear you yelling at Gabe?”
Dean nodded. “Yeah, gotta talk to you about that, but you guys sounded angry when I came in. Anything wrong?”
Y/N looked at Emma and shrugged. “I’ve been telling Emma that she needs to invite her new friend for dinner.”
Dean’s brow wrinkled as he looked at Emma. “You don’t want to bring your friend over for dinner?”
Emma looked at Y/N with frustration, clearly annoyed that she’d told Dean anything.
Dean tried again. ���What’s going on kiddo, since when don’t you want us to meet your friends? Who is it, by the way? Didn’t realize any new kids had started at the school.”
Y/N shook her head. “Jeffrey’s not a new student, he’s just a new…friend.” She said meaningfully.
Dean caught on and his face immediately dissolved into a scowl. “Oh.” He said without enthusiasm, crossing his arms over his chest.
“See?” Emma barked out, pointing at Dean, but talking to Y/N. “I told you this is how he’d be!!”
“What?” Dean asked defensively. “What are you talking about?”
Emma folded her arms, her posture and scowl mirroring Dean’s. “You get like this every time I bring a boy home, even when he’s absolutely just a friend. You scare the shit out of them!”
“Emma!” Y/N said, reprimanding her for her language..
But Dean just scoffed. “I don’t know what you mean. How do I scare them?”
Emma glared at him. “You interrogate them, Daddy, you know you do.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Come on, if they’re too freaked out to answer a few simple questions then-”
“Simple questions?” Emma interrupted with a humorless laugh. “When I invited Timothy Sutherland over here you forced him to sit down and answer a thousand questions about his family, his background, where he grew up, what his plans were when we finished school. He ran out of here and never looked back.”
Dean threw his arms out. “Do you really wanna date a loser like that anyway? Who can’t even answer a couple questions?”
“Ugh!” Emma stomped her foot and stormed out the back door.
Silence reigned for a moment when Emma left before Y/N turned towards Dean, giving him a tilted smile. “So, welcome home!” She said in a would-be cheerful voice..
Dean sighed as he pulled her back into his arms and kissed the top of her head. They enjoyed the simple peace of each other’s embrace for a few minutes before Y/N spoke.
“What happened with Gabe?” She asked.
“He stole a gun and was gonna go shoot cans with Josh and Freddie Young.”
“What?” Y/N shouted, pulling back to look into Dean’s face.
He nodded. “Yeah, but don’t worry, I handled it. He’s in his room till supper and he’s grounded for a week. And I talked to him about how dangerous guns were. I have more conversations planned around the subject for the near future.”
Y/N shook her head before laying it back on Dean’s chest. “Good lord.”
After a couple minutes Y/N pulled away and poured them each a cup of coffee. They settled beside each other at the wooden table and instinctively linked fingers.
Dean took a sip of coffee and sighed. “I don’t really interrogate all her boyfriends, do I?”
Y/N pursed her lips. “Well, she’s never actually had a real boyfriend. And I don’t think that's because boys don’t want to date her. She’s smart and kind, beautiful and well-liked. So…” She shrugged. “It seems probable that the boys who like her are just too intimidated by her father - you know, the legend who fought monsters, Croats, angels, and WON - the soldier that leads the camp, wears a gun, and asks scary questions, all while donning a very good mean-face.”
Dean exhaled loudly, but before he could respond, their youngest child came bouncing into the room. She was just six years old, and looked so much like Emma at that age that it sometimes caught Dean off guard.
But she was definitely her own little bundle of energy. Having never known hunger or hardship, she was all bright smiles and busy excitement. It seemed as though she’d been born smiling and simply hadn't stopped. Very little bothered her, and she was absolutely spoiled by the entire family, including their found family members in the camp.
Everyone loved Hope.
“Daddy, you’re home!” Hope shouted as she jumped into his lap.
“Oof.” He grunted as she landed hard on some sensitive places. “Hey sweetheart!” He said, slightly out of breath.
“I missed you. Mommy said you might not come home until tomorrow, but I said that you would come home quick because you like to be home and you don’t like to stay away. Right?”
He nodded, trying to keep up with her racing words. “Yeah, baby, I love to be home.”
Before his sentence was ended Hope was on to her next thought. “I saw Emmie running out the back door and I tried to talk to her, but she looked mad. She was sitting on the tree swing in the back and I wanted a turn, so I told her to push me, but she just helped me on the swing and then she left to walk through the front yard and leave. And when I tried to follow her, she told me not to leave the yard and to go inside and see you cause you were back. So, I did.” She paused for breath before asking, “Why was Emmie mad?”
Y/N answered. “It’s nothing sweet pea. Why don’t you help me make supper? You can shuck the corn.”
Hope clapped her hands. “Yes, I want to pull all the strings off.”
Y/N held her daughter’s hand as she hopped off of Dean’s lap, and then leaned forward to kiss Dean slowly.
“Ew.” Hope said, shielding her eyes as her sister had.
Y/N smiled against Dean’s lips and whispered to him. “Go talk to your daughter.”
Dean nodded and stood up, bending to kiss Hope’s shiny chestnut curls on the crown of her head. “Hey, promise me something short one.” He said, continuing when she looked up at him. “Promise you’ll take a really long time to grow up, okay?”
She smiled at him, cheeks round and rosy. “Okay, daddy.”
He winked at Y/N who smiled indulgently. “She promises.”
***
Dean instinctively knew where he’d find his oldest child. She coped with stress and frustration the same way he did, the way he’d taught her to.
He walked through the door of the garage and sure enough, there was Emma, wearing old, blue coveralls that were too big for her, and bent over the hood of the little Chevy hatchback that sat next to the Impala. He knew she heard him come in, but she didn’t say anything, just kept working.
Dean hopped up on Baby’s hood and waited for her to be ready to talk. Eventually, she caved and looked over at him, her face slightly shuttered and a little hard to read. “Hi.” She said simply.
He smiled at her. “Hey kiddo.” He nodded at the open hood she was under. “How are things looking? Still need a new oil pan?”
Emma shook her head. “No, I replaced that last week. Risa found me one in the back of the storage shed.”
“Good.” Dean said. They were both quiet as Emma leaned back in and continued working.
After a moment she cleared her throat. “Looks like I’m gonna need new brake pads though. Think we could go to Lowry’s and see what he’s got.” She asked, referring to a guy in Brisbane who collected car parts and often traded with them.
“Sure. I’ll be busy for the next day or so. But we can go after that. One day after school?” He asked.
Emma nodded and stood up, wiping her hands on the rag she had stuffed in her pocket. She was quiet as she slammed the hood closed and then stepped out of the coveralls and hung them up on the hook beside the door.
She wandered over to Baby and hoisted herself up beside Dean on the hood. After a moment she leaned her head onto his shoulder. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, Dad. I’m glad you’re home.”
Dean lifted his arm so she could snuggle closer, and then wrapped it tightly around her shoulders, squeezing her into his side.
“No, you don’t have to apologize, baby. Apparently I’ve been unconsciously scaring away the tons of boys who would otherwise be beating down our door. Though, if I’m being completely truthful, it probably wasn’t entirely unconscious. Cause I just know not a one of them is gonna be good enough for you.”
Emma chuckled. “I don’t think it’s tons of boys, Daddy. And I’m not interested in a bunch of boys. I’m interested in Jeffery. And I really do want you to meet him. I think if you give him a chance you’d like him. He’s really sweet and funny and just…” She sighed. “I just like him.”
Dean squeezed her again and felt his chest constrict with love and bittersweet memories, remembering how she used to crawl into his lap and let him read her to sleep. Those days were long gone, but she was still that little girl to him and she probably always would be. But he knew she was growing up and he needed to loosen his grip, at least a little.
So he sighed now and nodded. “Okay, kiddo. If you like him, I’m sure I’ll like him too. So, invite him over for dinner one evening and I swear to keep my questions to a minimum and be perfectly cordial.”
Emma laughed. “I don’t know if cordial is ever a word I’d use to describe you, Dad. Let’s just try to leave out the death stares.”
***
That evening after dinner, it was Gabe and Hope’s turn to do dishes. Gabriel washed and Hope dried with some assistance from Dean. As they were finishing up, Keisha and Julianne showed up on their doorstep asking if Emma was free to go for a walk around camp.
Y/N nodded when Emma looked to her for permission. “That’s fine. Be home before dark. Oh, here.” She said to the twins, grabbing a bag and passing it to them. “Take these home to your mom, it's the dress patterns she loaned me.”
Keisha went to take it, but Y/N pulled it back. “On second thought, nevermind. I’ll bring it to her tomorrow afternoon. Gives me a reason to visit and gossip.”
The girls all laughed and then waved as they headed out the door. Dean had to smile as they walked away, their high pitched voices and giggles floating back to them on a breeze. Some things hadn’t changed and he was grateful.
Gabe went to his room to read, since he was housebound for the next while. Hope played with some well loved and worn out dolls for a little bit before they took her to her room and put her to bed. They tucked Gabe in not long after, and then took their coffee cups out onto their little front porch and sat in one of the big Adirondack chairs that Dean and Sam had built three years ago.
Y/N settled happily into Dean’s lap, her hands cupped around her warm mug. The late spring air was soft and warm, and the sounds of the camp drifted up the hill towards them. They listened contentedly for a little while as Clifford came out of the house and flopped down on Dean’s feet.
They talked about the kids and they talked about the Deerling camp; they talked about Sam, and Y/N admonished Dean for teasing him about Eileen.
“Be nice.” She scolded. “I hope he will bring her to dinner. If he likes her, I mean.”
They talked about anything and everything, and as the sun began to set, Emma came up the path and smiled as she saw her parents cuddled together in one chair. As much as she rolled her eyes and hid her face when they started getting kissy, she loved how much they loved each other. And she knew she’d never settle for anything less than what they had together.
She told them goodnight and went inside, Clifford rising slowly to follow her and sleep at the end of her bed as he did every night.
Soon the fireflies were buzzing loudly and the camp was getting quiet, so Dean stood up with Y/N still in his arms, leaving their coffee cups to sit on the porch until morning. She laughed as her husband carried her effortlessly into their bedroom.
He set her on her feet and locked the door before he buried his hands in her hair and pulled her to him, crushing her lips beneath his own. Y/N moaned softly and immediately pulled off his flannel shirt and yanked his t-shirt over his head so she could spread her hands across the wide expanse of his still beautifully muscled torso.
“God I missed you.” She breathed, even though it had only been one night. “I hate when you go away.”
He smiled against her skin as he stripped her down to her bra and panties. “Missed you too, sweetheart. Promise not to go anywhere ever again.”
Y/N laughed at his impossible promise as he lifted her so she could wrap her legs around his waist. He continued kissing her as he crossed the room and lowered her to the bed. She wouldn’t let go of him and pulled him down on top of her.
Dean chuckled at her hold on him and then mouthed his way down her body, licking and nipping at her skin. Ten years later she still had the ability to make him instantly hard and aching for her.
They spent most of the night making up for the one they’d been apart. In the darkest part of the night they found light and life in each other’s arms and fell asleep knowing tomorrow would dawn bright and busy - filled with responsibilities, joy, love and most of all…
…hope.
Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:
@lyarr24
@lacilou
@deans-spinster-witch
@globetrotter28
@suckitands33
@alwaystiredandconfused
@evznackles
@jackles010378
@impala67rollingthroughtown
@krazykelly
@candy-coated-misery0731
@envyaurora95
@spnwoman
@deans-baby-momma
Dean Fics Only:
@roonthelittlespoon920
@slamminmine
@zepskies
@safiyas-world
Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:
@kazsrm67
@slut-for-evans-stan
@sexyvixen7
@nancymcl
@hobby27
@waywardcheshire
Everything Incl. Fan Edits:
@k-slla
@leigh70
@eevvvaa
@kickingitwithkirk
@foxyjwls007
@notinthislife50
@roseblue373
@mishkatelwarriorgoddess
@avanatural
@mrsjenniferwinchester
@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone
@deangirl96
#endverse!dean#endverse!dean x reader#dean x reader#dean winchester fluff#dean winchester smut#endverse!dean fan fic series#endverse
75 notes
·
View notes
Text
For the Good of the Realm
pairing: prince aemond x f!reader
summary: aemond reassures you of his love after you find out about his betrothal
words: 3.3k
warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, piv, fingering, angst, swearing, aemond probably being way more soft than is canon but hey im depressed let me do what i want
a/n: i've had zero motivation to write the last month but thankfully this little war criminal came along and lit a fire under me. ugh i just wanna hold his hand and maybe take him to therapy lol. also i'm being a bit revisionist and making it so he didn't kill a little kid right before the events of this fic.........
read on ao3!
Word of the betrothal spreads through the Red Keep slowly at first, then accelerates like green wildfire. Soon enough, the news seeps out of the walls of the castle and is whispered from ear to ear all throughout Westeros. You wouldn’t be surprised if the Free Cities on the distant shores of the Narrow Sea had heard it before you. Of course, in actuality you had learned of it well before most people but you should have been the first. You were owed that much.
The narrow staircase proves difficult to dart up. You lose your footing several times but ignore the scrapes and bruises that surely will need attending to. None of that matters now as you try desperately to get away from the one person you thought you could trust. Tears blur your sight, not helping your ascent. Slipping once more, you hike your skirt up and make a mad dash for the top of the steps, all the while the memories of your time in King’s Landing swirling through your head.
You had been fifteen years old when father had received a royal summons. He and your mother had gawped at the thick stationary signed with King Viserys’ emblem that fell at their feet, spirited to you by one of the Red Keep’s impressive ravens. The letter, it turned out, was not summons for one of your brothers to join court but for you instead.
Your house was small but proud, having served the Targaryens loyally through bloody wars and blessed peace. While no Baratheons or Lannisters, your family had proved faithful and the king felt that should be rewarded. It had been agreed that you would serve as a lady-in-waiting to the Princess Helaena, who was also around your age.
While an unexpected request, there was no question if you would go. Such an invitation was a great honor and as the daughter of an uncelebrated house, it was the best case scenario for you. If you stayed at your family’s lands there was little chance of marrying outside of your circle. However, with you being sent to court, you knew the silent hope on everyone’s mind was that you might catch the eye of some higher born lord. Over a decade had passed and indeed you had attracted the attention of someone of a much higher station than yours. Much too high for the likes of you.
He’s not far behind you, his pleads for you to stop and listen to him echoing off the stony steps. You daren’t turn and face him, knowing one glimpse of his face will only weaken your resolve. Nothing he can say will change things anyway. He’s engaged to a lady of proper status that would well suit a prince. Though it breaks your heart, you know there’s nothing to be done. You’ll pack your things and return home, tail between your legs. The thought of the disappointment from your family washes over you but you put your head down and trudge onwards. What is their disappointment when compared with your forever hardened heart.
Reaching the top of the stairs you run to your room, slamming the door behind you. Frantically, you pull out a traveling chest and begin stuffing all of your belongings into it. It’s haphazard and your mother will scold you to no end when she sees the state of your clothes but you just need to be on your way. The sooner you leave King’s Landing, the sooner you can purge yourself of all the memories that hold you there.
Hurried footsteps approach your door and you’re not surprised when it opens without so much as a knock. Aemond stands there for a moment, catching his breath. You pay him little mind, continuing your packing. His eyebrows knit together with worry when he realizes what you’re doing.
“Where are you going?” he asks tightly.
Letting out a pained laugh you answer. “It seems as if I’m no longer of use here. Do not worry, my prince. Soon you shall be rid of me.”
Aemond looks as if you had just started speaking Dothraki to him. “What do you mean ‘your use here’?”
Your anger overtakes you and you throw down the dress you were carelessly folding. “I mean I was nothing more than a pawn. I was a convenient way for you to learn the ways of women and how to please them. Now that you’ve had your fun with me and gleaned all you can you’re free to move on to a proper lady.”
Aemond looks at you with such heartbroken confusion that you bow your head, lest he see the tears brimming in your eyes. You push past the urge to comfort him. It is you who deserve comforting, you remind yourself.
“I have no desire to marry that Baratheon girl. When I went to speak with Lord Borros at Storm’s End yesterday the only term he would accept for pledging to House Targaryen was a marriage to unite the families. We’re already losing if we don’t have him on our side,” he says.
“That means you had a whole day to tell me. I had to hear it from your brother. He was more than happy to let me know.” You scowl, remembering the almost skip in Aegon’s step as he had whispered the news to you during dinner.
Your prince curses darkly under his breath. “Of course it was Aegon. That prick.”
Nodding you sit at your vanity and begin organizing your small collection of jewelry and trinkets. Aemond swallows down his anger at Aegon and kneels by your side. You refuse to look at him. He doesn’t touch you, worried that might spook you.
“I spent all of yesterday trying to think of a way out of it. I went to the small council, my grandfather the Hand, even my mother…” he stalls, not finishing the thought. It’s evident what he doesn’t have the courage to say.
Instead, you finish for him. “…but they told you that in order to ensure a Targaryen victory they need an alliance with Storm’s End. Which means you have no choice but to marry Lady Ellyn. For the good of the realm.”
“For the good of the realm,” Aemond parrots back bitterly.
There’s nothing to be done. Rationally, you know that. He is a prince with a duty to his kingdom. You were lucky to have him to yourself for as long as you did. In your heart, though, you know you will never love like this for a long time. Maybe never again for if this is what true heartbreak feels like then you would rather die than repeat it again.
The last piece of jewelry you find is a brilliant, blue sapphire necklace that Aemond had gifted you three namedays ago. “As blue as the Sea of Dorne,” he’d murmured to you as you had admired it. The Aemond who had gifted it to you then had fewer worries and bigger promises. You had laughed that it was indeed beautiful but you would have to take his word for it, you’d never seen the Sea of Dorne. At that, your prince had grabbed you by the hand and spirited you away on Vhagar, determined to show it to you right away. The ride on the dragon had not been exceptionally long, but once the deep blue waters came into view, it felt like you and Aemond had entered a world all your own.
Back in your chambers, though, reality has caught up with the both of you. Aemond watches you study the necklace, then rests his head against your arm. “Tell me that you want to run away with me and we’ll go right now, like we did all those years ago.”
You caress his hair for a moment, reveling in the realization that you could run away. With Vhagar to take you, no one would be able to follow. And if they did, Aemond and his dragon would make them understand that the two of you were free to do as you pleased. Real life once again makes your dreams crash down around you. Gently, you extricate yourself from Aemond’s embrace and put the last of your jewelry into the trunk.
He watches you as you close the lock with a resounding and final clunk. You turn to him, trying to look strong. “I would not ask that of you, my prince. I would not separate you from your family and leave them to despair and failure. They need your strength. We must accept that.”
For a moment, you think you’ve convinced him that you should do the responsible thing. But you should know better than anyone that Aemond never accepts defeat. His once soft and broken expression morphs into one of impassioned determination. He rises, striding to you before you realize what’s happening. Standing before you, he seems a giant, intimidating and alluring all at once.
“Tell me you no longer want me and I’ll marry that Baratheon bitch,” he says steadily.
You know you can’t. “Aemond…”
He continues, emboldened by your clear devotion to him still. “Tell me you no longer need me and I’ll walk out of here right now.”
Tears begin to course down your cheeks as you try to find the words. It’s useless, though, and Aemond knows it. He lowers his voice to a hushed, honeyed whisper.
“Tell me you no longer love me and you need never see my face again.”
Any resolve remaining in you dissipates and you close the gap between you, whispering his name pitifully before you bring your lips to his. At first it’s sweet and tentative, two lovers reminding each other of their affection. But at your first whimper, Aemond deepens the kiss, holding you close to him, your bodies molding together.
In an instant, he’s ripping you out of your dress. Aemond doesn’t wait for it to completely fall off, satisfied with your bodice no longer in the way of what he wants. He turns you around so suddenly, you gasp, trying not to lose your footing. You needn’t worry though, he catches you, pressing your back to his chest. Even through the skirt that still clings to your body and the leather of his pants, you can feel him hard as dragonscale.
The both of you revel in the feeling for a minute, you pushing back into him and Aemond kneading your hips comfortingly. The spell is broken by another of your pitiful moans as you seek more friction. Aemond chuckles, “Impatient as ever, my love.”
Knowing exactly what you want after years of exploring your body, Aemond brings his hands up to cup your breasts. Your head lolls back onto his shoulders as he massages them gently. His hands are calloused from years of sword fighting and it makes you shiver. Without even seeing him, you just know he’s smirking. Aemond removes one of his hands, squeezing your nipple before he abandons it. The sound of more tearing fabric reaches your ears as he pulls off your skirt.
You whine until you feel him slide his hand along your belly, giving you goose bumps. His hand cups your cunt, pulling you back into him again, his other hand still working at your breast. Aemond slips a finger through your folds, chuckling at how worked up you are. He takes pity on you and begins rubbing languid circles on your clit as he kisses softly down your neck. It’s definitely sacrilege to think but you’re sure this must surpass any of the seven heavens the septons preach about.
There’s one thing that could make this heaven even better. You put your hands on Aemond’s to signal him to stop and he turns you around, worry in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” His breathing is heavy and you smirk when you realize he’s just as excited as you are. You lay a hand on his cheek and he smiles, closing his eyes as he leans into it.
“I want to feel you, my dragon.”
Aemond begins to undress himself. “Please,” you whisper, “let me do it.” His breathing quickens even more as he nods. Fingers trembling, you undo the buckles of his shirt. Usually, time together is limited and Aemond would do this task himself to speed things along. Instinctively, he reaches to help you but you playfully shoo his hands away. He watches you with a fond smile as you get the hang of it. Buckles undone, you shimmy the shirt off of him and toss it aside. His chest bare, you can’t help running your hands over it, mapping the expanse of the scars that run across it. Aemond shudders and groans. You could do this all day but he’s getting restless. “Please, my love.”
Chuckling, you begin undoing his trousers. “Who’s the impatient one now?”
You bend down to help him step out of them. Once free of all of his clothes, he tries to get you to stand but you stare up at him with a smirk. He’s right there, hard and ready begging to be touched. Your hand closes around his cock and he moans. You mean to take him in your mouth but Aemond has other plans. “Not now. I’ve other plans for you tonight.”
He pulls you up and you yelp in surprise. “Aemond, wait.”
Tonight, you want him truly naked. “I want to see all of you, Aemond.” He knows exactly what you mean and after a moment, he nods. You reach up carefully and undo the patch that covers his missing eye. You’re greeted with a dazzling sapphire that matches the necklace he gifted you. If Aemond had his way, he wouldn’t wear the covering at all but he knows that without it the people of court deem him more of a monster than they already do. Part of him is still a scared little boy who wonders if maybe they’re right.
You hold his face as you reach up on tiptoes to tenderly kiss the scar across his eye that constantly reminds him of the loss. In return, Aemond kisses you hard and lustily. He pushes you back on the bed and you giggle as you bounce slightly. As you look up at him, he undoes the clasp holding his hair back and lets his silvery gold locks fall freely around his face.
Now he’s ready to take you.
Aemond lowers himself on the bed and crawls towards you. Intuitively, you open your legs for him and he rests between them, like a panther assessing his prey. He stares down at you, caressing your cheek. You’re sure you’ve never seen a more beautiful sight. You don’t have long to admire him though as he’s set in motion. Aemond kisses you fiercely, then grabs one of your knees, bending it up towards your chest to give him better access to your cunt. He presses a finger into you, stretching you as you whimper.
As he works you open, he takes one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks lazily. When your whimpers turn to moans, he adds a second finger. He curls them inside you, searching for the place that makes you see stars. It doesn’t take him long to find it. It never does. Aemond sits back up to focus on his task. As he presses on the spot, you prop yourself on your elbows and watch him at his work. He feels your gaze and stares right back at you, grinning. Your mouth falls open as he presses harder and faster. The noises you’re making are animalistic and it’s a wonder you haven’t woken up the whole castle.
Aemond brings his lips to your clit and sucks as he presses more insistently. The pleasure crashes over you and you come suddenly, wailing as you fall back down into the pillows. Normally, your lover would give you a moment to recover but deep down both of you know this might be your last night together. A second after your undoing, Aemond’s crawling over you and pressing his cock to your entrance. You grab his ass, trying to push him inside of you faster. He takes the hint and slips inside, both of you moaning in unison.
The prince pauses for a moment, closing his eyes and reveling in the feeling of being enveloped in you. You let him stay there a moment then tease him by squeezing your walls around his cock, bringing him back to the present. The smirk is wiped off your face and replaced with a satisfied sigh as he pushes into you over and over again. The overstimulation gives way to pleasure again and you know you won’t last much longer. But you want to hold out and wait for Aemond to finish with you.
Aemond’s lips come to yours as he continues to rut into you. Wrapping your legs around him, he speeds up and buries his face in your neck. You cradle him against you as you let the bliss you’re feeling push away all the thoughts of what’s to come tomorrow. Your prince hits a particularly sensitive spot in you and your nails scratch down his back as you come once more. Aemond follows after you shortly, groaning as he finishes inside of you.
You lay there for a moment, both of you sweaty and satisfied. Aemond moans happily as you run your fingers through his soft hair. After a few minutes, he rolls off you and pulls you into his chest. Thoughts of what you’ve been avoiding creep back into your mind and based on how quiet Aemond is, you know he’s thinking it too. You’ll be damned though if you’re the first one to break the reverie you’re in.
Aemond breaks the silence for you. “I want to marry you”
You gaze up at him and smile sadly. “I want the same. Though I don’t think the gods will allow it, my prince.”
“Gods be damned. Let me take you away from here. We can marry before my mother even knows we’re gone. She’ll have no choice but accept once she sees the truth of it.”
You think back on your history lesson from Maester Gerardys. “We’ll be like King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne?” It’s a folly and you say it as such but Aemond is invigorated by the thought.
“They married against the wishes of their mother. Why shouldn’t I? Everyone thought their union would throw the realm into chaos but it didn’t. Ours would be just as blessed.”
It pains you to be the one to bring the dream to an end but the kingdom hangs in the balance. “But what of Borros Baratheon?”
Aemond sneers, “That illiterate bastard can find another to marry his daughter. If he breaks his oath and runs back to Rhaenyra then Vhagar and I shall pay him a visit he shan’t soon forget.”
You want to argue more, beg Aemond to see reason. But the hour grows late and your body craves sleep. You snuggle up to him and close your eyes. Aemond takes your silence for an agreement.
“We’ll fly away tomorrow. Wherever we land we’ll find a septon to wed us.”
You hum a sleepy “Of course, Aemond.”
The prince looks down at you and smiles sadly. He’s not stupid. You’re only placating him but doesn’t matter. His plan is a dream but it’s something to hold on to until tomorrow brings about the stark reality of your situation.
But those are troubles that sleep will wave away. Aemond blows out the candle and brings the blanket up to cover your shoulders. Soon sleep descends on him and his eyes get heavy. Before he’s completely overtaken he murmurs to you in High Valyrian.
“Avy jorrāelan”
He doesn’t expect a response but breaks into a sluggish grin as you whisper back.
“I love you too, Aemond.”
******
#how am i supposed to wait til 2024 for more of my baby#prince aemond x reader#aemond x you#aemond x reader#aemond fanfiction#aemond smut#aemond targaryen#house of the dragon#allie writes
752 notes
·
View notes
Note
Im loving the lavender fic very much and I read it a second time because it helps me to understand better and It got me wondering it is mentioned King Viserys visited Driftmark and that Rhaenyra and the Velaryons were quite icy and that sometimes Rhaenyra and Laenor visited the capital. Why Rhaenyra never introduced her daughters to court? or why did Viserys did not brought his new family to Driftmark also Aemond claimed Vhagar quite differently so this means the Greens did not attend the funeral I get that bringing Alicent to Driftmark would be considered an insult for the slights the Velaryons have endured
Great question, and I’ll be talking about this a little in Chapter 2 as well!
By this time, the Velaryons view the Targaryens as having insulted the women of their house (by birth or by marriage) three times in less than two decades. Rhaenys was passed over at the Great Council, Laena was jilted by Viserys, and Rhaenyra (who was married to Laenor and pregnant already) was removed as heir.
In canon, Corlys is furious and quits the Small Council when Laena is jilted, and he’s furious again when Rhaenyra is removed as heir, because Viserys is breaking the promise he just made that Laenor will be king consort and their children will sit on the throne. Corlys decides he and his family are going to shun court in protest. Rhaenyra is also pissed at Viserys and family so she agrees, and Laenor doesn’t like court much anyway. Rhaenys may be the only one who objects.
Even though he’s angry, Corlys accepts the Jace/Aegon betrothal because he *is* ambitious. But he declines to do anything more than the minimum necessary. He and the family will ensure Jace is prepared to be queen consort, but they aren’t sending her to court before they must. And as Aegon gets older, he develops his party playboy reputation that probably makes the Velaryons feel vindicated in their decision to keep their girls away.
For Laena’s funeral, Viserys goes alone because he realizes (or is advised by others) that bringing his family might piss off the Velaryons even more. (“Look, here’s the wife and son that I picked over all of you!”) So the kids aren’t at Driftmark, but even without Aemond, Rhaena still doesn’t claim Vhagar, who decides to just leave and eat sheep on the mainland.
16 notes
·
View notes
Note
Louis quite sympathetically explaining that lestat hid the cloud gift, stating that it was because lestat didn’t want to relationship to suffer due to an even more lopsided power dynamic, is just so interesting in the context of Louis saying all that in front of armand and armand shown casually using that gift in the last scene. We don’t know yet how the present day Louis and armand dynamic will be necessary but that explanation from Louis seems an interesting inclusion (especially when it could be argued Louis had been aware of lestat’s gift since ep 1), how do you think Louis views his current situation with armand?
It definitely is a very potent statement actually, because it describes his relationship with/to Armand here, the sheer power imbalance shown to us, the viewer, in said last scene.
I think Louis is something of a self-proclaimed prisoner. He hides himself away, after having asked Armand for help, and Armand being Armand… helps in the way he sees fit. Armand loves Louis, he tries, but he is Armand.
He controls, edits, the penthouse, the diaries (books in general though of course Louis could jump or get a ladder, but the shelves are a statement not a forbidden zone per se), Louis‘ memories.
Armand canonically is a strong mind and spell gift user. He uses that influence on Louis for him to turn Madeleine, for him to leave the theater. For example. We’ll see how it is on the show but Rolin already hinted in last season‘s episode insider that Armand will still be that coven leader he is in the books, so… ;)
Now, we are decades later. Louis is at least latently suicidal, for reasons that we will still get to see imho, and which likely have to do with the diaries, a too important piece of canon to waste, imho.
I think Louis feels trapped in Dubai.
Not necessarily by Armand, but… in this life, in this situation, in the choices he made. And he is tired. Louis calls it bored, but what really is that except being bone-tired? By everything? And so I think that he tries to tie up loose ends, so to speak.
Only… neither Armand nor Daniel really play along. I agree with others that the Rashid play was likely improvised, and then, at a certain point Armand took over.
I do think there’s love there, berween Armand and Louis.
But also desperation and a certain helplessness, especially as the tale unravels. This interview isn’t exactly going as planned after all.
I think they’re at a point in their relationship where all that is keeping it from falling apart is the status quo - and memory is a monster, and what will be unearthed from said memory next season will be uncomfortable at best - but likely very, very painful, and it‘ll unravel what is left.
And Armand will try to control it, thereby making it worse (I think), and… well. Then it will all come to a very interesting cliffhanger… no matter which one they’ll choose^^
#anonymous#asks#ask nalyra#interview with the vampire#iwtv#lestat de lioncourt#louis de pointe du lac#armand#daniel molloy#amc iwtv#amc interview with the vampire
26 notes
·
View notes
Note
That one anon really thought they did something. Also calling Robin Steve's property is so weird because 70% of Robin's tag is about Nancy and the majority of r*nance fics are about how Robin benefits Nancy. How Nancy can overcome trauma and be saved from heterosexual relationships.
Like you said Steve wouldn't force Robin to do anything, his entire character is about making sure other characters are happy even if it's on the expense of his own happiness. If you think Robin would be bossed around by Steve you purposefully misunderstand their entire dynamic. It was literally her idea to combine with him because they are platonic soulmates. And again Steve would never tell people what to do (other than in dangerous situations when he tries to keep others save).
Robin will always choose Steve, if you want r*nance to work Steve can't exist in that universe. That or they literally have to break off their friendship because you can't have both. I lost a friend because she dated my ex. We were really close but it's one of those things you can't really get over.
Also tbh personality wise, they just don't match. The fandom also makes Nancy a lot sweeter than she actually is the show, same goes for Steve before people come for me. They overlook her flaws like the show does, so when you point out okay well she actually would behave this way in certain situations according how she behaved in canon, people will jump you and say oh no you just hate her she's actually not bad. This is especially true for stancy, the way people just overlook the fact that she emotionally cheated on Steve for a year and then slept with Jonathan while they were still together. And before people say well Tommy said they broke up, Tommy doesn't speak to Steve or Nancy anymore, he doesn't know their relationship only rumours because they had one fight. And Jonathan's and Nancy both acknowledged Steve as Nancy's boyfriend minutes before they had sex so yeah. Again, if she was a man in that instance, nobody would excuse her actions.
In the end I don't see Nancy hanging out with the people outside the whole UD business. She'll leave the town as soon as it's possible and then nobody will hear from her again. The people I see still hanging out with each other in the future are Steve and Robin because they love each other. And Steve and Dustin because they are brothers. Also Max, Lucas and Dustin will stay in touch definitely.
god, i know. they really saw that we think robin cares about her friends feelings, and equated that to steve owning robin?? and yeah so much i’ve read about r//nance is about nancy. about how robin would help nancy develop and nancy needs to explore her sexuality. like… i hate any ship where one character is forced to play therapist for their partner.
if either of them is bossing around the other, it is robin bossing around steve, he literally drives her to school every day not even knowing she doesn’t have a licence. and yeah, steve is the kind of character who continuously does stuff he doesn’t really want to do to try and protect his friends.
sucks that that happened to you, but yeah, it just isn’t something you can get past. i do think it’s because steve is a guy that they have less empathy for him when it comes to his love life. nancy and he broke up just a little over a year ago. if it was a couple decades down the line it might be different (though i kinda doubt it), but even so, robin will always choose steve. like you said, they’re soulmates. in order for r//nance to work, steve literally needs to not exist (though if steve doesn’t exist, robin and nancy would have literally nothing to talk about.
i totally agree that people try to rewrite nancy to make her mesh better with other characters, honestly the st fandom does it with nearly every single character. babygirl steve, for example. people try to rewrite that he’s bitchy, he lashes out when he feels shoved into a corner (though always apologises), they make him super feminine and weak, when steve is probably one of the most masculine characters on the show. and yes! it’s insane how if you even dare to slightly criticise nancy, you hate her, you’re a misogynist, like please! you can love a character and recognise they have flaws!
i find it so funny when people point to billy and tommy making fun of steve as proof they’d broken up. like tommy is the authority on their relationship? especially because, like you said, half an hour before she has sex with jonathan, she is adamant she is in love with steve. if they’d broken up, why would she do that? but yeah, steve being the guy means people try to excuse everything nancy did wrong in that relationship.
totally agree. like, hawkins is the centre of everything that went wrong in nancy’s life. and it’s like, so many people say steve and nancy could never be together, because he reminds her of her trauma with barb’s death, and if that’s true, then i doubt nancy will want anything to do with any of them. and yeah, the only people not blood related that i really see being engaged in each others lives (other than occasionally reunions and stuff) is steve and robin, and then the party. obviously with steve staying in contact with max, dustin and lucas, specifically (in my dream version of stranger things where hopper and steve have a, like, fatherly relationship, they’d stay in touch, but that’s not canon lol).
also, i kinda see nancy becoming a murray kind of reporter, so she can’t really keep in contact when she’s breaking into government facilities and revealing all their secrets.
anyway, totally agree with all your points, and i’m so tired of getting told i hate nancy because i dare to point out that she isn’t a great girlfriend
26 notes
·
View notes
Note
I remember seeing antis went and harrassed a japanese creator into abandoning their twitter blog because the plushies they made (insanely adorable ones, wish I could've get my hands on them) were involved into blankshipping stuff by others. They came stomped their passion out and went their merry ways.
The biggest joke of it all is that once they were out of the picture TWO artists opened up the possibility of creating plushies of their own.
I have met some lovely people in the fandom (people who aren't too big to get into controversies and try to avoid them) but there is a huge majority in the fandom I'm feeling uncomfortable with. Whether it be their fetish nsfw stuff or fetish sfw stuff weird aus or their inhumane stance on the whole blankshipper issue.
A lot call the fandom "open and friendly" but honestly all fandoms have a dark side. And this dark side has been in a insanely weird place where things that are unacceptable in other fandoms are okay here EXCEPT blankshipping REEEEE
Over a decade ago... I'm a veteran on this hellsite if you will, I remember seeing fanart depictions of two people happily talking to each other while having different ships on top of their heads. Back then it didn't really matter what ship was liked. Everyone kinda went along with each other and there was no malice or hatred, just fans enjoying something, coming together and becoming friends.
Nowadays, especially the Submas fandom feels like a huge echo chamber where everyone follows the same fanon like it's canon with little to no variety. Cookiecutter aus in slightly different flavors but basically all the same. Been there seen that... In this whole climate I embrace every au and everything that feels refreshing next to the same old same old.
Really hoping the fandom gets a nice shake up and things change. Or the most obnoxious people leave once it's clear there will be no Emmet in PLZA. (seriously doubt that he shows up)
Wait....so you are saying a Japanese artist made some plushies they happened to sell to a blankshipper? This blankshipper in turn put them in suggestive poses with each other and took some photos? --So then the antis blamed the artist for what the customer did? -And they got harassed into deleting their account?
Now my curiosity is piqued. What exactly are things not acceptable in other fandoms, but are somehow acceptable in Submas? Rather than being 'open and friendly', I find this fandom to be cliquey and petty.
IE: See that artist doing the cuooooootsy wootsy 'Big Ingo Little Emmet' shit? Well, they have a fetish side blog where they make 'Big Ingo Little Emmet' sexual, and they get 300+ likes for all their stupid fetish drawings. If I were to give that as much grief as I do the dog-fckn au beastiophiles (which are considered socially acceptable and are EVERYWHERE), then I'd get piled on for being a blankshipper. Never mind that I'm not pulling Bidoof's Law on them and saying stupid fetishes are immoral, per se.. I'm just saying stupid fetishes are STUPID. -But I'm not allowed to say something is stupid and I don't like it for being utterly retarded because I'm into blankshipping, and saying something is stupid-gross-implausible somehow makes me a hypocrite. Get it? -Because I'm into the worst of the worst, I'm not allowed to express opinions on other sheeit, even if people in other fandoms might agree it's dumb as hell.
As for Emmet being in PLZA, there might be a chance if it's set in the future, and they do the 'up train down train' theme. A lot of people want Volo to also be there to continue that ship, but I think there's almost a zero chance he will be. 1.) There's a perfectly good AZ who can be the immortal, and 2.) I don't believe Volo is actually immortal, just that people took his parting words out of context. If Emmet does get an appearance, I hope we get that reunion. That would give us so much delicious stealth blankshipping work, although the artists would protest into next week it's nothing like that.
#submas#subway bosses#ingo#emmet#srsly tho#stop it#fandumb fail#volo#ask me about my million stupid bj aus#send troll prompts#at least there's no omegaverse
4 notes
·
View notes
Note
We already know that there are documentaries, movies and series about dragon dancing, my question is, do you have an opinion about it? ???? No a that exist, but that some think that the actors in charge of interpreting them do not do them justice either in beauty or charisma and there are those who are like aegon, delighted that a young Leonardo DiCaprio interprets him. Is there shipp of them here? I can imagine aegon annoying jace with the fics they write about them, jace outraged because they pair him with aegon when he clearly had a relationship with cregan (since cregan didn't reincarnate, in this life if he can give aegon a chance) the whole family confused because the Lucemond is the 2 most popular shipp, jace outraged again because they pair Aemond with Luke, aegon insisting that Aemond should read a very good fic of the lucemond he found, the reason why Aemond doesn't read fics is because most of them are more tragic than the real story and for misfortune there is already his life, that doesn't stop him from occasionally going on Pinterest to see the fanarts they make of Luke and him (they don't look like them, but they make him smile) they Adults not understanding why people would be interested in his love life and why they match people who died decades ago.
In FMN canon media about the dance, Daenerys conquest, and really anything pertaining to Dorne are extremely popular. Some of the highest grossing movies are dramatizations of the secret romances and rivalries.
“The green queen” is a hbo show I mention briefly in Alicent’s separate story. I imagine that either Eva green or Carla Gugino played her which Alicent feels honored about despite not liking the inaccurate portrayal of her character.
Rhaenyra feels a way that every actress that’s played her has always been skinny. Not that she doesn’t think they slayed because she absolutely does, but she doesn’t agree with how her being plus sized has never been portrayed in popular media. However, there are plus sized cosplayers/theater girls who do a great job and Nyra always likes their posts and leaves nice comments telling them how amazing they look.
While I haven’t taken into account that fanfic is being actively made it is very much a possibility since there are many ships the general population gush over. For example, most people agree that Harwin was the boys father and more than a few short films have been made about their hidden love affair. All which Harwin had watched and cried to. (They always cast hot actors to play him which is a bonus)
There’s a viral tweet every once so often along the lines of. “So we all agree that Cregan Stark was bending Jacaerys over like a pretzel, right?” And it gets 100k likes.
It’s funny imagining Aegon reading Lucemond fanfic though. He’s just scrolling through his phone laughing and when Jace asks whats so funny he bursts out saying he’s reading a fanfic called GYBTM and Aemond is apparently this big dick dom into bondage and fucking in public.
Proceed to Aemond with his mouth wide open like ‘what?’
Jace : Who tf would write that? Luke is a pure angel?!?
Aemond : That’s Absolutely ridiculous and perverted.
Hel : it’s actually a compelling story. Very well written. I’ll send you the link.
Aegon : I wish I could tell the readers to stop thirsting over you though. You’re basically a wide eyed virgin, I doubt you could ever be that good in bed.
Aemond : 😐
Que to Aemond like 8 hours later crying into his sheets at night while reading AWHI.
Rhaenyra nearly has an aneurysm when Hel tells her there are a few fanfics centered around her marrying Otto.
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
Creep
Stuck traveling through hyperspace is boring, so you decide to have a little fun by yourself, which eventually involves Cad Bane and thoroughly humiliates Rako Hardeen.
Fair warning, this fic is downright mean to Obi-Wan Kenobi/Rako Hardeen. I wanted Cad to have a win.
Warnings: trash, F/M, 18+++, P in V, voyeurism, cuck, kinda, dub-con, fingering, Cad’s an ass and I’ll stand by that, toxic, proofreading is not my jam, written while sleep deprived, self-indulgent, barely coherent, self-love?, idk what tags are blocked now homies, not canon, but Obi kind of a sad sack
Inspired by an amazing fic by @galacticrepublicwarcrimes
Anatomy as always inspired by @sinisterexaggerator
——————————————————————-
Hyperspace is boring.
I mean, yeah the ability to cross inconceivable distance quickly and the blue glowing tunnel is fascinating the first couple times, but you’ve been hopping rides across galaxy for over a decade now and it’s just…boring. This trip is going to take a while, one end of the Galaxy to the other. The geriatric cruise liner you’re traveling in doesn’t help, just heaps of filthy empty cabins. The only decent livable space is the main entryway, behind the cockpit and everyone on board made do with whatever bedding they could salvage.
Unfortunately the main entryway is also full of egotistical, annoying, downright arrogant bounty hunters and they can not seem to. Stop. Arguing.
I mean, granted you’re a bounty hunter, but you’re really hoping you’ve never been this bad. Why had you agreed to this job again? Oh yeah. Credits.
The noise from across the hold gets louder.
Cad Bane and Rako Hardeen. Those two had been at each other’s throats since the start of this job and it just seems to escalate. Insults are flying across between the two and it’s getting unbearable to stay in the same space.
Bane’s hand twitches towards the blaster slung against his thigh, probably a habit formed after wearing that massive trench coat for so long. That subtle movement, pushing the coat out of his way. Even though he’s not in it now the movement is an indication of his intentions, a threat of violence.
It’s your cue to leave. No reason to get caught in the crossfire between two idiots and their egos. Standing up and stretching your shoulders you trot off to explore the scrap heap hurtling through hyperspace.
——-
A half hour or so passes and you stumble across a slightly less filthy room. It was obviously an office at some point, the ornate desk and chair in the center of the room point to the ship’s luxurious past. There’s a closet against one wall, large enough for coats and not much else besides.
Settling yourself in the ornate chair you take a deep breath, no blaster shots had echoed through the ship so it’s reasonable to assume the two jackasses had controlled their respective tempers. Your mind wanders to the blue Duros.
Cad Bane. You’ve heard of him, who hasn’t, but this was the first time you’d set eyes on him. Tall, thin but with a surprising amount of strength in his lean body. Watching him sneer at Hardeen, thin lips pulling back over fangs and the toothpick clenched…long fingers twitching for a blaster.
Well shit, you think, managed to turn yourself on girl.
With another glance around the room you settle further back into the chair, unlace the front of your trousers, and slip a hand inside.
Nothing better to do in hyperspace after all.
——-
Cad Bane leans against the cold durasteel of the ship’s hold, hat pulled low, toothpick rolling idly between his thin lips. Everything about this job has been an annoyance. Every annoyance has centered around that damn sniper. A rattle rolls through his chest. Should have just shot the bastard, instead he’s sitting across the length of the ship getting some rest of his own.
Hyperspace is boring. Especially when he’d rather be putting that annoying sniper in his place…or putting a bolt through that annoying sniper. He rolls his shoulders, settling deeper beneath his hat. Even the hat is an annoyance, it’s not his usual.
A movement by the door draws his attention. That pretty little human wanders back into the main hold. She’s enticing for sure, all curves and long silky hair with a slight flush to her cheeks.
Bane ignores her, this is a job. No time for shenanigans like that he muses, as he watches her stroll back to her corner. But it would be nice to relieve some…tension.
Being in the business as long as he has, the Duros has learned not to miss details. Even the small ones, a tiny shift could be deadly. So he doesn’t miss Hardeen’s head raise, Hardeen’s eyes trace up and down the form of the woman as she saunters by. That’s interesting.
The smell hits him hard, wafting after her. Musky, warm, and pouring off that sweet little human as she moves past. Bane inhales, letting his olfactory organs process the information. So, the little slut had indulged in some…relief to ease the boredom. That’s very interesting.
——-
Obi-Wan Kenobi groans slightly, slumping the unfamiliar body of Rako Hardeen lower into the floor. This disguise is wearing on me, he grimaces. After a few cycles it’s so easy to slip into the mannerisms of the sniper, react aggressively when normally there would be calm.
That damn woman saunters past him, and Hardeen’s body responds. At least Obi-Wan blames it on Hardeen’s body. Jedi are above those baser instincts.
But still he watches, taking in the swing of her hips and the slight flush on her cheeks. At least someone on this blasted ship is in a good mood. Watches her stretch, all curves and smooth skin, and settle in to wait out this journey.
He copied her motions, keeping an eye on Bane. Obi-Wan can’t ignore the hunter completely, doesn’t trust this fragile truce. So he resigns himself to a long wait.
Time and the blue light of hyperspace pass by. The ship is quiet, everyone lost in their thoughts or getting some rest. Obi-Wan glances at Bane again. The Duros has his hat tipped down and appears to be sleeping.
Obi-Wan stands, rolling Hardeen’s shoulders and stretching Hardeen’s muscles. If he can find some privacy, he just might be able to make a call. Keeping half an eye on the hunter, Obi-Wan wanders seemingly bored, before slipping into the bowls of the ship.
Fifteen minutes later he stumbles upon an office, tucked out of the way, with an ornate desk, chair, and closet. It’s moderately cleaner than the other rooms he’s explored and far away from the central hold and the suspicious red glare of the Duros.
Obi-Wan stands still, calming his mind before communicating with the Jedi counsel, letting go of the violence and anger his borrowed body surged with. One more deep breath, calm calm calm…
The door handle turns. His eyes snap open and he darts for the closet, forcing Hardeen’s larger frame into the small space. The door to the room opens as Obi-Wan quiets his breathing and peers out a poorly fitting seam to see who wandered in.
That woman strides in, takes a quick look around, and slides that perfect ass into the seat behind the desk.
Obi-Wan watches as she leans back in the chair and braces both booted feet against the table, spreading her long legs.
Obi-Wan watches as she moves her hands down her body, caressing and toying with herself, before unlacing her trousers with a small sigh.
Obi-Wan watches as she slides a hand inside her trousers, palms a breast with the other, and whimpers out a gasp of pleasure and she tips her head back.
Hardeen’s body is enjoying the show. It has to be Hardeen’s body, as Obi-Wan chants calm calm calm in his head. There’s no way a Jedi would react to this, watching a gorgeous woman enjoy herself in the most base way.
He watches her put her fingers to her mouth, tasting herself before slipping the soaked digits back between her legs. A drawn out moan tumbles from her lips as she continues her efforts, hips bucking slightly with each stroke.
It HAS to be the Hardeen’s body, Obi-Wan thinks desperately. Has to be Hardeen’s cock, which is now fully erect and pressing painfully against the light armor of his pants. It has to be Hardeen’s traitorous hand that unbuckles the cod piece, unties the trousers, allowing his engorged length out, tenting against his undergarments.
Obi-Wan grits his teeth against a groan that threatens to spill out at the relief. Relief that is short lived as the woman in the chair lets out a keening high pitched whine. He can hear how wet she is, soft sounds as her fingers run through her soaked folds.
Force, he hopes she’s quick and he can get out of this closet before he does something humiliating.
——-
Despite Hardeen’s assumption, Bane knows better than to sleep on a job like this. Instead he pulls his hat low, rolls his toothpick slowly, and watches. He saw the little human glance his way occasionally, blush staining her cheeks. He saw Hardeen carefully treading towards the back of the ship. He saw the same little human stand and pad off a few minutes later, the smell of her arousal leaking from her pores.
Well that won’t do.
The bounty hunter rises as she dissapears down the hallway. Might as well give her a head start, his predatory instincts rising at the thought. After a few minutes he follows, using his superior sense of smell to track her. His cheeks move as he inhales, practically tasting the scent of her as it leads him to a closed door.
On the other side of the door then, he’s sure of it. By the scents drifting out she’s already been very busy.
There’s another smell too. Male. Bane’s hairline lips pull back into a sneer. If Hardeen is in there with her Bane has no qualms pulling the sniper off her and throwing him out the door…maybe through the door.
Replacing the toothpick in his mouth he quietly opens the door, prepared to show that horny little minx how much better a Duros can be.
The door opens softly and Bane is greeted with an impressive sight.
She’s in the chair, legs splayed wide, hands down her pants. He takes it all in, the flush on her chest, head thrown back, and lips parted around her mewling pants. He can hear the slick sounds of her fingers working between her thighs.
And the smell, musky, warm, slightly sweet. His alien anatomy is already pressing hard against his leathers.
No Hardeen in sight, but the other smell, the male arousal, is in the room. Moving his eyes carefully he spots the closet. So the creep is getting off watching her play with herself, and her unknowing she has an audience. Perfect.
“shit, WHAT THE HELL…”
Oh good, she’s realized he’s there.
——-
You jerk your hands from your core, sitting up so fast a muscle in your back twinges in protest. Your face is on fire, blush moving through your face so fast you must be beet red now.
Guess coming back here for a second round was a mistake.
“What cha’ up to li’l lady?” Bane’s deep gravely voice slices through the tension in the room and adds another layer to your humiliation.
“It’s a long trip…I….didn’t think anyone would…” Your babbling sounds inane in your own ears. Taking a deep breath you force lips into a sneer. “Don’t you know how to Fucking KNOCK!?”
He takes a long look up and down your frame, and you’re sure you look like a mess. Flaming red, panting, disheveled hair, and a scowl twisting across your lips. His searing gaze takes it all in. You stare defiantly back.
A chuckle, rattling up through his chest and his modulated voice cracks across the room. “It’s yer fault missy, I’ve been smellin’ how hot an’ bothered you’ve been alllllll day.”
He swiftly closes the door and steps up to you, looming over you as you glare up at him and fumble with the closure on your trousers.
Another inhale, a deep rattle, and he smirks, showing his canines in the dim light. “I saw ya’ starin’”
One massive hand reaches for you, taking your chin captive in long fingers. “Saw ya’ blushin’”
Your eyes widen as heat surges through your core. One large blue digit traces your bottom lip, and your breath hitches.
Jagged teeth flash through his filthy smile.
“Just lay back princess, ol’ Cad Bane is gonna’ help ya relax”
——-
Obi-Wan is mortified. The spectacle in front of his is true debauchery but he can’t look away. That pretty little woman giving herself to an absolute animal of a bounty hunter.
He’d expected…hoped she’d say no. Tell the Duros to fuck off, as it had sounded in the beginning. Storm out and let him end this whole humiliating experience with some dignity left intact. But no.
He watched as Bane made quick work of her clothing, exposing her fully and placing her on the desk. He watched as the hunters blue hands crawled across her body, kneading her smooth silky flesh. Teeth nipping at her throat and breasts until she was covered in marks. It was obscene.
Now he watches as one long finger penetrates her dripping cunt. She throws her head back with a wail, leaning back and spreading her thighs to give the criminal easier access. From Obi-Wan’s vantage point he can see blue sink into pink flesh, gently…almost teasingly, stroking her walls. She cries out, pleading for more.
Hardeen’s body will be the death of him. His foreign cock is painfully hard, leaking pre-cum into his undergarments. Unable to help himself he pulls out the borrowed member and begins stroking it. His pace increases as the sounds pouring from her lips increase in volume.
Bane inserts another finger, increasing his own pace as she howls above him. One hand reaches up and smacks her lightly across a pretty cheek before wrapping fingers around her throat. Obi-Wan almost breaks, almost rushes out at the rough treatment, but the way her cunt clenches around Bane’s fingers stops him. Instead he strokes Hardeen’s cock faster, tongue trapped between his teeth to keep himself quiet.
Bane leans over her, still viciously pumping his hand into her wet heat. Obi-Wan catches bits of the filth he purrs into her ear.
“Knew ya….like it rough….such….dirty li’l thing……gonna cum…on my hand…….”
Obi-Wan watches her back arch, thighs shaking, and slick pour out of her to drip down the Duros’ hand. The gasping moan of Bane’s name through her lips sounds almost like a prayer as he continues to stroke her through her climax.
His climax rips through him violently, and his vision blacks out as he spills himself over his hand and down the front of his pants. Obi-Wan drags in a ragged breath and he pumps the aftershocks into his fist. His release drips to the floorboards of the closet.
His vision clears and embarrassment burns through him. Hardeen’s body or not he’s better than this, masturbating to the depraved scene outside a closet. He should be better than this…but a deep groan from the room pulls his eyes back to the peep hole.
Cad Bane has pulled himself out, blasters discarded on the desk. Twin inhuman anatomy, stacked one on top of the other spills out from his pants. His eyes are half lidded, stroking the upper cock while she’s on her knees, enthusiastically swallowing the lower one as deep as she can go.
Obi-Wan can see the slick down her thighs, evidence of her own climax and growing arousal. He watches as Bane fists a handful of her hair, forcing his length deeper down her throat while she chokes and gags around him. Her muffled whimpers and moans are a counterpoint to the praise the hunter rasps above her, telling her how well she takes it, so good, so hot, so wet. At this moment he could almost hate Bane, listening to the sounds of the hunter’s gratification from her eager little mouth.
Hardeen’s cock twitches, quickly becoming fully erect again.
——-
Cad Bane hadn’t had a hyperspace crossing this good in ages. He had smelled Hardeen’s release, could sense the snipers embarrassment and shame for enjoying the scene in front of him. Bane had angled the woman’s hips to give him the best show after all.
Now that tight, HOT cunt was gripped around his length as she writhed beneath him, begging him to move, to fuck her. He’d groaned as he slid into her, enjoying the silky scorching heat against his cooler anatomy and almost forgetting about Hardeen in the moment. Almost.
Time for the finale.
He pulls out halfway and snaps his hips hard back into her cunt and she lets out a high pitched, keening whine. One massive hand keeps her thighs spread, and the other strokes his upper cock, making sure to grind the base of it into her sensitive clit as his other cock pounds into her.
“Look at chu’….takin’ this Duros..so….fuckin’………well.”
He increases his pace and she clenches around him.
“Gonna…gonna ruin ya’….fer any other dick, ain’t that right?”
She shudders beneath him, winding up tighter and tighter as her climax rapidly approaches.
“Yes…fuck…YES!” She gasps out.
“What ‘chu say, ya’ ruined?” As he slows his thrusts.
“Please…oh god…..PLEASE Cad. I’m ruined…ruined.”
He returns to his punishing pace, feeling the slick heat spread where their bodies are connects. Three hard pounds later and she’s cumming, clenching and spasming as she screams out her climax beneath him.
He feels her heat, the wet gush of her release down her thighs and his hips stutter. One more deep push and he’s filling her up as the convulsions of her body milk every drop, while he strokes the upper cock and paints her torso Duros blue.
——-
Your mind is fuzzed, completely senseless after the most intense orgasm you can remember. The hunters sticky release coats your body and dimly you drag a finger through it for a taste.
It’s tangy, not a bad flavor at all.
Bane is above you, panting slightly and still buried to the hilt. His grin is downright cruel.
Quicker than he should be able to after an orgasm, he raises a gauntleted wrist, aims a lasso at the closet, fires, and pulls the door open.
Twisting your head slightly you see Rako Hardeen, wide eyed in shock, pumping his cock furiously as his release spills over his hand and down his thighs.
“Enjoy da show Hardeen?”
A rattle sounds deep in the Duros’ chest.
“Not polite ta watch a lady when she don know yer dere.”
Hardeen’s face turns bright red, almost obscuring his tattoos. His mouth gapes open, but he still has his cock fisted in a chokehold.
Bane arches a brow ridge at him.
“Might want ta go clean yoursself up, leave da lady and me ta enjoy ourselves without da audience.”
Hardeen swallows, throat bobbing. He almost falls out of the closet in his haste to get away, stumbles to the door, and dashes out with his cock flopping uselessly over his cum coated pants.
You gape at Bane.
“Did…did you just use me to HUMILIATE HARDEEN?!”
The bounty hunter pulls himself out of your tender cunt with a lewd sound.
“None a that now princess, ya had fun too.”
He stares at the mess on your body.
“Now that we’re alone I’m gonna fuck dat tight ass of yours. Still gotta long ways to go on dis ride.”
You stare at him, fucked half senseless and dumbfounded.
He smirks down at you and begins stroking his already half hard cocks.
38 notes
·
View notes
Note
if you’re still taking rarepairs, i have one (you can ignore this if you’d like)
sam/gavin/freelancer maybe? or sam/aaron?
Already got you covered on Sam/Aaron lol, so I'll do Sam/Gavin/Freelancer!
So I've got a Scenario for this one. Sam knew Gavin when they were both going to DAMN. Gavin thought Sam was fun to flirt with because Sam would always roll his eyes and snark back, but when Gavin asked, Sam said it didn't actually bother him. Gav ended up really liking Sam. Who wouldn't, honestly? He was driven and passionate about wanting to help people. Gavin also wanted to help people, but he was pretty self-conscious about it. He canonically worries about the perceptions other people have of his magical race, so it stands to reason he'd worry here, too.
Sam would be incredible at reassuring him, though. We've already seen that Sam sees the best in people and encourages them to be who they are. He's accepting and doesn't put much stock into rumors or stereotypes. Gavin would probably latch right onto that, and to Sam.
A couple years after Sam graduates, though, he disappears, and Gavin has no idea where he is. He asks around for a while until someone finally tells him about the crash. He assumed Sam was dead, since that's what everyone else thought, and was genuinely heartbroken. Over a decade later, he meets Freelancer, and he wants to try to feel love again. They get together like in canon.
So Freelancer comes home one day and tells Gavin that a friend of a friend found them a really good tutor for healing and that he's coming over. Gavin opens the door to Sam Motherfucking Collins, still alive apparently. He immediately hugs him and starts mumbling about how he thought he had died and he had missed him so much, and Sam is frozen, totally confused. Gavin pulls back and Sam recognizes his face, and he pulls his old friend back in for another hug. They're both crying and refusing to let each other go, and Freelancer is just standing there like O-O?
Gavin ends up explaining their past, Sam fills Gavin in on what actually happened, and Freelancer immediately sees that the way Gavin is looking at Sam is the same way he looks at them. After Sam leaves (he didn't end up doing much tutoring that evening, but they set up another time to work on healing magic together), Freelancer tells Gavin that he can date Sam too, if he wants. Gavin is immediately on board, but he also really wants to see if the two people he loves more than life itself would also fit well together.
Obviously, they do. Literally three study dates later, Freelancer is telling Gavin that they're Very Interested in Sam. Sam is far quieter about that kind of thing, but Gavin is still an expert at reading him, even after all these years. Not to mention he can feel his emotions, but even just looking at his face, he can tell that Sam has a thing for the Freelancer.
They end up sitting Sam down for a conversation about it, and he ends up agreeing to try things out, on the condition that they tell him if he starts to get between the two of them or if either of them end up being uncomfortable. They agree, but neither of them ends up having to tell him anything. Sam is a perfect gentleman who fits into the relationship like he was always meant to be there. He becomes their voice of reason, their support, and the mother hen who berates them both for their unhealthy habits.
Freelancer can also rest easy, now, knowing that the loves of their life won't be alone in a century. They'll have each other, and that comforts them.
9 notes
·
View notes
Note
Gil for the character ask?
First impression
Oh man back when I first watched FSN and half of Zero like a decade ago I HATED him, but it was like one of those.... "I hate you so much but you're very compelling, but also i HATE you", and also he was very popular so that made me kinda dislike too.
Impression now
I LOVE HIM SO MUCH OH MY GOD. Watching babylonia was so worth it because it showed me that he was definitely more than he was in UBW which, uh, wasn't his finest moments. Seeing him there and in CCC was like, a blessing, and he's such a great character and I own a copy of the epic now and that's my number one fate boyfriend
Favorite moment
WHERE DO I START-- well there's a lot of little things in CCC that I absolutely adore (AUO castoff take my money), but I think one of my favorite moments is the scene in Babylonia where he talks to Enkidu about his role as king while watching his people celebrate. Also - heartbreakingly not in the anime but in the game - the bit where he tries to fight some spriggans but one's a rider and it bitchslaps him across the field and he's so OFFENDED, i wish that had been animated.
Honorable mention is either his sacrifice in Babylonia or the bit in LB7 where he straight up tells Fujimaru to kill Kirei before he betrays them, I laughed really hard at that.
Idea for a story
I WANT STORIES WHERE GIL GETS THE SHIT BEAT OUT OF HIM, I WANT HIM TO CRACK EMOTIONALLY, I WANT TO SEE HIM BE LESS THAN PERFECT, BREAK THIS MAN IN ANY WAY YOU WANT AND I WILL LOVE IT
ahem. listen sometimes a man needs a spiked baseball bat to the face if we want him to have any growth at all, mr perfect op bastard goldie is one of those people
Unpopular opinion
This is probably not an UNPOPULAR opinion per se I know plenty of Gil fans who agree with this, but there's still enough dudebros to make this at least a less common opinion-- I don't like him in UBW. And I don't like him for how OP powerful he is. I like him because he's absolutely one of the most human servants despite his demigod status and protests otherwise. He's ridiculously flawed and makes a ton of huge mistakes in his backstory and he's a petty arrogant selfish egotistical childish brat over half the time, and his grief for Enkidu is so relatable and I just /waves hands around/ THAT'S the good shit.
Also the REAL unpopular opinion is that I really don't like Koto*Gil all that much.
Favorite relationship
You mean besides Enkidu because that's a given? Well, I ship him with my Fujimaru so there's that, but I think my favorite relationship he has is the UBW Idiot Trio. The closest thing he has to friends and equals these days is Cu and Emiya and I love the way the three of them tend to interact a lot and are like idiot frenemies who still hang out together. I don't think Gil would process friendship post-Enkidu if it bit him in the ass, but I really like that trio's weird dynamic.
Favorite headcanon
Well, Gil is dark-skinned in Fate regardless of how pasty canon wants to tell me he is, suck it illustrators. But most of my headcanons for him are like...more in depth stuff so we'll leave it at that.
#fateseriesblogging#chara: king of glitter and gold#look i have a lot of hcs and most of them are Weird
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
the ministry just needed to be shown albus fluttering his eyelashes at gellert in the restaurant and they’d have stopped their “why won’t you fight him!!!” nonsense
i mean...
#i know the blood pact kind of stopped them asking#but theseus at the end of tsod being like 'will you get him now???' lmao#i love that it's canon that he agrees but leaves it well over a decade before actually doing it#had to get a few more tea dates in first <3#grindeldore#txt#fbtsod spoilers
95 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Family Tree is... a Disaster
Takes place in the TCW Leverage AU. It does contain a few deviations, namely that the narrative ended up shifting Plo's role in Ahsoka's life, and Ventress's role overall.
This is mostly just dialogue where I outline the fuckery that is the disaster lineage family tree, not actual fic. It stemmed from my incessant need to justify "25yo Obi-Wan somehow got custody of 9yo Anakin without Shmi dying."
Warnings for: canon character death (modernized), canon violence (modernized), and references to Nazis and white supremacists (Palpatine collects WWII weaponry as a parallel to his canon display of Sith artifacts in his office as chancellor, and Ahsoka thinks it's sketchy)
----
"Okay," Cody says, setting down a glass of whiskey as he drops into the seat across the table. "What the hell is your family tree like?"
Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow, and continues cleaning off the definitely-not-stolen crystal komodo dragon he'd won in today's job. "I beg your pardon?"
"You and Skywalker," Cody says, gesturing between Obi-Wan, who is just sitting there minding his own business, and Anakin, who is across the closed-for-tonight bar and doing something inadvisable on the pool table. "You've said he was your brother, and mentioned raising him, which, sure, I'm over twenty years older than my youngest brother, people take over parenting roles all the time. But you have different last names, have mentioned stepfamilies that the other doesn't have, reference things as 'your aunt, not mine,' and I am just getting... very confused. I figured it was personal and I could leave well enough alone, but considering your older brother almost shot us today--"
"Okay, Xanatos is not my brother," Obi-Wan immediately says. "Just. I just have to stop you right there. Xanatos was a student of my father's for a time, but I promise he's not family. Nobody except maybe Komari would consider him even close, and she doesn't count since she's in prison for life and the farthest thing from stable."
Cody gestures. "That, Obi-Wan. That's what I'm talking about. I don't even know who Komari is."
Obi-Wan purses his lips in a failed attempt to not smile. "Do you actually want the explanation? It's long and unnecessarily complicated."
"So's mine," Cody snorts. Obi-Wan waits, patient and pleasant, and is rewarded when Cody sighs. "Please."
"Of course, my dear. To answer your first question, though, Anakin is my half-brother." With a smile, Obi-Wan digs a piece of paper and a pen from his briefcase. "So, center of the chain: me, my father Qui-Gon, my grandfather Yan, and my great-grandfather Yoda. With me so far?"
"Easy enough. Do you have to go back that far?"
"Great-grandfather Yoda is still alive and regularly escaping the old folks' home to terrorize younger relatives, so yes," Obi-Wan says. "Given that you may just meet a tiny, meddling relative of mine when he's bored, we do in fact have to go back that far."
"...how old is he?"
"We don't know for sure. A hundred and eight-ish is the best guess." Obi-Wan shrugs. "It's not a huge deal, mostly he likes bothering Anakin these days. Anyway, grandfather. Yan Dooku. Inherited a minory duchy from his maternal grandfather decades back. Mostly hangs around there because he's on terrorist watchlists in the States."
"Oh, lovely."
Obi-Wan grins. "Trust me, it gets worse. Anyway, grandfather never actually married, but spent most of his time with his 'best friend' Sifo Dyas, who died about a decade back."
"Gay?"
"Well, we know that now, but they got together in the seventies, and this was back when they were both working government jobs, so, you know. It happens."
"Good to know," Cody says. "So, Yoda's kid is Yan, who inherited a title and land from a maternal relative, and had a life partner but never married. With you so far."
"All of Yan's kids were adopted," Obi-Wan continues, sketching out the first branch away from the Yan/Sifo partnership. "Rael was actually grandfather's cousin, maternally, and ended up in his custody after getting orphaned at five. These days, he does most of the stewardship duties at the Serenno Duchy. His daughter Nim is teaching military history at a university in Germany."
Cody nods. "Uncle number one is named Rael, technically your dad's cousin, has a daughter. Got it."
"About a decade after Rael, they adopted my father, Qui-Gon. He and grandfather fought, frequently, but they did care for each other. My father was a botanist, did bio-engineering. We'll get back to him later, because he's where things get complicated." Obi-Wan made sure to leave room around the name. "Just a few years older than me was--is--Komari Vosa. She is... serving a life sentence. I think she fought Jango once."
"She fought my father?"
"To the best of my knowledge, they both almost died, yes," Obi-Wan says. "She's in maximum security these days. She was an assassin. I'll get a call if she breaks out, and I'll let you know along with everyone else."
"Bad news auntie, got it."
"Last adoption, sort of, is Ventress," Obi-Wan finishes off. "A few years younger than me, is technically grandfather's personal assistant and does secretarial work and the like, but we all know he's planning to leave as much of the inheritance to her as he is to the rest of us. She's aggressive and unpleasant, but she takes care of him and hasn't actually threatened to kill any of us yet, so that's fine."
"How'd she join?" Cody asks.
"Ky Narec was a friend of Qui-Gon's; Ventress was his daughter. Ky died a few years after Qui-Gon did, and Ventress was a mess, after." Obi-Wan shrugs and scratches that connection into the little sketch of a family tree as well. "Grandfather offered her a job until she got herself back together, and then she just kind of... stuck around."
"Youngest aunt, more of a cousin." Cody summarizes. "Now we go back to your father?"
"Qui-Gon Jinn was a man of many skills," Obi-Wan says drily. "Adequate birth control was not one of them."
It's almost a pity that Cody wasn't drinking anything, because going by the way he chokes, Obi-Wan's pretty sure the spit take would have been spectacular.
"I'm sorry," Cody says. "Can you repeat that?"
"I was an accident," Obi-Wan says, not even bothering to hide his smile. "So was Anakin."
"So that sounds like... a story."
"It is," Obi-Wan confirms. "My biological mother has never been in the picture. They had a fling, she wasn't sure if she'd want to abort or give me up, just that she wasn't ready to be a parent, and Qui-Gon volunteered to take full custody so she could go back to her life after the birth. I've never met her, but I kept her family name. You can consider her irrelevant beyond that."
Cody nods.
"So, when I was about a year old, Qui-Gon reconnects with an old flame, they get married two years later. Step-mother number one is Tahl. Lovely woman, I absolutely adored her, and she had a daughter, my stepsister, Bant Eerin."
"I met her, right?" Cody asks.
"Yes, she was the doctor who patched up my bullet wound a few months ago," Obi-Wan says. "With the giant glasses that make her look a little fish-eyed."
"She was nice."
"She is," Obi-Wan agrees. "At any rate, that was our family for a while, and then Tahl died when I was fourteen. Bant wanted to go to a magnet school for medical studies, and Qui-Gon's grief was... not optimal for taking care of multiple teenagers, shall we say, so Bant moved in with her paternal uncle, Kit Fisto, and Kit's son Nahdar. He's a marine biologist, incredibly friendly, and has no idea of any of the rest of my side of the family's questionable activities. If you ever meet him, you will pretend that we are a legal firm with a team of security consultants."
Cody raises a brow. Obi-Wan despairs. "Best you could do?"
"We're not that likely to run into him." Obi-Wan draws out a new line. "So, Qui-Gon deals poorly with grief. This is also around the time that Xanatos came around to ruin our lives a little. He was a very rich and unpleasant man, but he's dead as of four hours ago, so you don't have to worry about him. Or his son."
"His son?"
"Anakin handled that," Obi-Wan says. "Thoroughly. Granta Omega is no longer an issue. He's not dead, but... well. Anakin has his ways. Er--I should probably mention Feemor; he was my father's assistant at the university for a long time. Anakin and I still call him our uncle."
"Also a person to avoid mentioning criminal activity to?" Cody prompts.
"Well... no, but only because I don't think he'd care. The man is, forgive me, more of a 'walking sweatervest' than I am. He's a very bland and unassuming man. He once described himself as the background character of the soap opera that is my family's existence."
"Sounds like a charmer."
"Oh, he's very kind and clever, and witty as well. I adore him, and he really is family. He's just also very, very normal. Not boring, but..." Obi-Wan trails off and shrugs helplessly. "He's an editor for an agricultural research journal. Also not someone I anticipate us running into."
"Noted."
"Right, so, Qui-Gon dealing poorly with his grief didn't involve much drinking, but there were a few months of him trying to... lose himself in the pleasures of the flesh?" Obi-Wan tries, and then deflates at the look on Cody's face. "He was slagging around. Shmi got pregnant with Anakin, who was born when I was sixteen. Shared custody at first, Qui-Gon got him weekends and every other holiday, that sort of thing, and then they got married because they actually did like each other well enough, and it was easier on the taxes."
"So Shmi is stepmother number two."
"Shmi is stepmother number two, yes." Obi-Wan sketches in Anakin and Shmi. "About nine and a half years after Anakin was born, Shmi and Qui-Gon were in a car accident with... well, it later turned out it wasn't an accident, there was a hitman called Maul involved, he's actually Ventress's second cousin or something, I don't know. Grandfather handled most of that problem. Qui-Gon died, Shmi was in intensive care, and I got custody of Anakin as his nearest adult relative. We weren't very close before that, because I was off at university by the time he was old enough to form memories, but that changed once he started living with me. I more or less raised him as a single parent from that point."
"This is why he jokes that you're like a father to him."
"Precisely," Obi-Wan says. "Shmi took about a year to recover enough to move again, and grandfather covered the costs. She still had to live with a dedicated carer and attend daily physical therapy. At that physical therapy, she met Cliegg Lars, whose son Owen was also a patient there. They hit it off, and three years later, they married. When Anakin refers to his stepfamily he's talking about the Lars out in Nevada."
"Nevada?"
"They have a farm. A very, very normal one. We don't drag them into our activities, unless we have an at-risk person who needs a safe house." Obi-Wan pauses, and then decides this really needs to be stressed. "This is important to me and Anakin, that we don't get them involved unless there's absolutely no other choice. Shmi's been through a lot, and the Lars are busy enough running the farm."
"Works for me," Cody says. "We've got enough safe houses that it shouldn't be an issue. I'm guessing this story doesn't end there, though."
Obi-Wan grimaces. "My own love life has been... a bit of a mess."
"I already know about Kryze, at least."
There's that. "I was temporarily engaged to a friend, Siri Tachi, shortly after high school. We were in a relationship, but this was mostly something done to appease a relative of hers that was getting overbearing to the point of absurdity, and she couldn't just cut them off. We broke off the engagement after the relative passed, and we're still friends."
He notes that down, then adds the other embarrassment of his early years. "First marriage was actually a drunken joke between myself and my best friend when we were in college. We got it annulled a few months later because we just didn't have time to drop by the courthouse before then, and he's actually engaged to Asajj now."
"Asajj?" Cody asks, watching in fascination as Obi-Wan tries to mark in both his own short marriage and the newer, long-term engagement without crossing any lines. He settles for just writing the name twice and including an asterisk with 'this is the same person.'
"Ventress," Obi-Wan clarifies. "Yeah, Quinlan's a fun guy. His little sister, Aayla, treats Anakin like a beloved younger cousin."
"Are they also off-limits for criminal activity?"
"No, Aayla's the one that taught Ahsoka how to vent-crawl," Obi-Wan says. "And I'm pretty sure Quinlan has contacts in every major government branch, criminal organization, and Fortune 500 company on the planet. I reach out to them regularly."
"Resources, then."
Obi-Wan nods. "Some time later, I married Satine. We had a son; you've met Korkie. We split due to incompatibility a year and change before Qui-Gon's death. Satine doesn't engage in criminal activity, but Bo-Katan is..."
"I've met Bo-Katan. I know what she's like, Obi. You don't have to explain."
"She works with Maul sometimes."
"...the man who killed your father?"
"Yes. It's all very stupid and convoluted." Obi-Wan still writes her in. "So, that's them. Korkie goes to boarding school, and I try not to involve him in anything. Anakin and Ahsoka like to teach him self-defense and the like, but Satine is adamant that he stay unaware of my less legal dealings until he's an adult."
Cody shrugs. "Makes sense. Is that every--wait, no, Skywalker's married."
Obi-Wan grins. "Yes, and Padme's got twins on the way."
"I was there when he told us," Cody says drily. "He was very loud about it. Okay, how does Ahsoka fit in?"
"Hold on, I forgot Beru," Obi-Wan mutters. "Owen's fiancee. Same rules as the Lars. Okay, you asked about Ahsoka. Right. So. Um."
He dithers. Cody waits for him, and then Obi-Wan just gives up. "Ahsoka, dear, would you like to explain how you joined the family, so to speak?"
Ahsoka looks up from whatever she and the boys are doing--there are multiple beer glasses and straws and duct tape involved, and Obi-Wan doesn't really want to know--and then flips off the table and over to Obi-Wan and Cody. She looks over the family tree chart, and then says, "Oooh, did you tell him about the cult?"
"You were in a cult?" Cody demands.
"No, Komari was. She was head priestess or something. I dunno, it's why she's in prison and stuff."
"I did not tell him about the cult," Obi-Wan mutters, already regretting this. "The Bando Gora aren't a problem anymore. I've already gotten to explaining how you and Anakin know each other."
Ahsoka rolls her eyes, steals his pen, and starts sketching in around Quinlan's name, over by Asajj since Obi-Wan's section is too crowded. "Okay, so, Quinlan's adopted. His dad is Tholme, and Tholme's dad is Plo Koon. Plo Koon is good friends with my Auntie, Shaak Ti, who raised me. They live next door to each other, out in the country, and I'd play in his yard a lot, because he had puppies, and he took me to visit his bees. Whenever Auntie needed a babysitter, she asked Quinlan or Aayla to do it since she knew and trusted them, and Aayla needed pocket money."
"This is so unnecessarily complicated," Cody mutters.
"It is!" Ahsoka chirps. Her grin is far too sharp. "So, this one time, Aayla was watching me when I was fourteen, and she was just helping me with my physics homework. BAM, the door slams open, and in stumbled Skyguy with his arm missing. I've never met him before, and my first introduction is him shortly after he's gotten an unplanned amputation."
Anakin, on the other side of the room, giggles. Obi-Wan just sighs. The Fett brothers appear to be in the land of 'horrified fascination.'
Ahsoka revels in it. "There's blood everywhere, I'm screaming, Aayla's panicking, Anakin's halfway to unconscious and insisting we can't call the hospital, and nobody can get Obi-Wan on the phone. Quinlan's in another country, and Auntie Shaak and Uncle Plo are at a movie, so they've both got their cellphones off. Tholme was faking his death at that point to get away from an incident with the Irish Mob, so we didn't even try him."
"What the actual fuck," Rex breathes.
Ahsoka continues with relish. "We get Bant to pick up, and she's there an hour later with Padme, because Padme knows how to drive the way Skyguy does, and the entire drive there is just Auntie Bant on speakerphone telling Aayla how to stop the bleeding and get him stabilized while Padme's screaming at traffic at the top of her lungs."
"I owe Aayla a fruit basket," Anakin muses aloud. "The anniversary of her saving my life is coming up, it's warranted."
"Five years, baby!" Ahsoka crows. She fist-pumps.
Obi-Wan just drops his head into his hands. "You're killing me, children."
Anakin shrugs, grinning. "You know, I think Fett Senior might have been involved in that fight."
"My shitty dad cut off your arm?" Rex demands.
"No, I think he was busy fighting the Interpol guy," Anakin says. "But he was definitely there. I think. Blood loss kinda got to me after a bit, but I'm pretty sure Jango Fett was there, and also Boba might've been hiding in the getaway car?"
"I need another glass," Cody mutters. He doesn't stand up, though.
"Wait," Rex says. "So who cut off your arm?"
Anakin shrugs with an unsure noise. "Someone tried to convince me it was Grandpa Yan, but he was in the middle of a court case in Italy for some kind of parole violation when it happened, so he had an alibi."
"...did he actually violate parole?" Cody asks, and Obi-Wan thinks he looks like he doesn't know if he actually wants an answer.
Ahsoka shrugs. So does Anakin. Obi-Wan carefully looks at a spot behind Cody, and doesn't explain anything about wine tastings used as covers for illicit arms deals.
"The arm?" Rex prompts, sounding a little desperate to get back to the question he likely thinks is the most important.
"I still say it was Skeevy Sheev," Ahsoka chimes in.
"It wasn't Palpatine," Anakin snaps.
"Your creepy older friend who took you to operas and gives you fancy gifts and knows way too much about swords who was conveniently there to talk to the police and cover for you so you didn't get arrested for getting in the middle of a gang war in the first place, yes," Ahsoka says, dropping into a chair and sighing dramatically. "The guy who definitely hasn't been trying to convince you for a year and change that your wife is cheating on you with your older brother."
"Ahsoka!"
"What? He is."
"Anakin," Rex says, "your life sounds like a trainwreck."
"I'm not going to assume a frail, elderly man cut my arm off!" Anakin protests. "Even if he wanted to, he doesn't exactly have the muscle for it!"
"Grandfather's older," Obi-Wan points out, even though he knows it won't help. "And he definitely still could."
"Ha!" Ahsoka shouts.
"He could have hired someone?" Cody suggests. "Doesn't need to do it himself, if he has enough money."
Obi-Wan has a sneaking suspicion that Cody is deliberately stirring the pot as revenge for Anakin sending him eighty-seven cat memes inside an hour during last night's dinner.
"You all suck," Anakin declares. "Also, what the hell do you mean 'knows way too much about swords,' Ahsoka? You know way too much about swords!"
"Yeah, but I'm like ninety-percent sure that his antiques are Prussian and mid-century German military officer dress uniform relics, and pairing that with the Nazi pistols he's got on display--"
"He's just a history buff! And his family's German, of course he prioritizes that region, it's not like he doesn't have Russian or French or English antiques in there too, it's all sides of the war and--"
"I'm just saying he's almost definitely sending me sketchy glances like he thinks I'm planning to steal the silver on the three occasions you've had me with you when you stop by, and I'm pretty sure it's got less to do with my criminal record and more to do with me being, you know, not white."
Anakin looks ready to blow, so Obi-Wan interrupts. "Ahsoka, you were explaining how Anakin passing out on Aayla and scaring us all half to death led to your friendship?"
Ahsoka blinks at him, and then sticks her tongue out at Anakin and turns back to the chart. "So basically, Skyguy had to recuperate in Uncle Plo's living room for a week or two, and I kept showing up to bother him because he was bored and nobody would give him a laptop for 'security reasons,' because he had to lay low and stuff. He made me help him sketch out designs for a prosthesis and do all the writing for the math he had to do for the 3D printer, and we got to chatting."
Ahsoka hops up and back onto a table, legs swinging below her. "I decided he was cool and started following him around while he was getting used to only having one hand, mostly because I was bored. He showed me how to hotwire a car, and explained the best places to put a bug if you were looking to make it sneaky, and he picked my pocket to show off so many times when he was walking around Uncle Plo's house that I made him teach me that, too. And, uh, then Aayla found out and they got into a shouting match about it and decided they both needed to teach me parkour so I could get out of any mess I got myself into, since I was obviously going to follow them into a life of crime."
"And you did," Anakin says, far too proudly. "You're the best thief in this half of the country."
"Only because Aayla moved out east."
Anakin rolls his eyes and pulls Ahsoka into his side, digging his knuckles into her skull. "Best thief! You are the best thief! Be proud of yourself!"
"Let go!"
"Never!"
Obi-Wan sighed heavily and rubbed at his forehead. "Children, please."
"You're not my dad," Ahsoka growls out at him. "Skyguy, I'm going to bite you!"
"Good luck, the only arm you can access is the one that's going to break your teeth."
Ahsoka shrieks in outrage and stomps on Anakin's instep.
It's almost funny, for all that Obi-Wan's seen it play out a million times before, but the really interesting part is seeing Rex's look of fond dismay.
Obi-Wan thinks he might be adding a branch out to the Fetts soon. He's not actually sure if Rex is interested in Anakin or Ahsoka, and he's smack dab between them in age, so that's not a help either, but... well. The expression is familiar enough.
"Please tell me you don't match-make," Cody mutters to him.
"No, I plan to let the pieces fall where they will," Obi-Wan responds, just as low, and far more amused. "I'm simply trying to predict where those landings are to be."
Cody looks at him, and then back at the roughhousing trio, and sighs heavily. "You know, I really didn't think that you technically being minor royalty was going to be the least convoluted thing in your story, Obi-Wan."
He laughs, because it's true. "I'm first in line to inherit the title, since Rael denounced his claim. Nim isn't interested, and Qui-Gon's dead, so... I'm next."
Cody makes a face. "Delightful. I'm guessing that's not a connection we can safely make use of."
"No more than the Kryze or Naberries, I'm afraid." Obi-Wan claps him on the shoulder. "Chin up, I've plenty others in the metaphorical rolodex, all far less legitimate and far more amenable to work with our little outfit."
"Rolodex, really?" Cody snorts. "You're not that old."
Obi-Wan smiles winningly. "You don't know how old I am, Cody. All my IDs are fake."
"Anakin's twenty-four, and you're sixteen years older than him, going by the story you just told me," Cody points out. "I do know how to do basic math, Obi-Wan."
"I had to try," Obi-Wan admits. "I threw a lot of information at you all at once; I'd hoped you missed some of the ages in there."
"I have eight brothers," Cody scoffs. "And literally dozens of cousins, plus niblings, uncles, aunts, and so on. I have experience on this."
"If I asked you to list of the age of every single relative you have, you'd be able to do it?"
"Do you want me to draw a chart? I can draw a chart."
Obi-Wan can't help but laugh. "I'd be delighted, my dear."
Cody rolls his eyes, but Obi-Wan thinks--it's hard to tell in the dimmed lights of the closed bar--that there's a hint of a blush on the man's face. Obi-Wan lets himself slouch to the side, drops his head to rest on one fist, indolent debauchery in every line of his body. Cody does his best to ignore him, but Obi-Wan knows how to smile lazily and blink slowly and draw a man in.
(The whole 'indolent debauchery in every line of his body' phrasing is Anakin's, from back when he was a teenager trying to read highbrow literature to impress a cute girl... and to come up with new insults for his older brother.)
"So," Cody says, with a cough meant to somehow distract Obi-Wan from whatever's showing on the man's face. "Why, uh, why is your grandfather on terrorist watchlists?"
"Well, he didn't initially do anything," Obi-Wan says. "He was just a gay man who didn't hide it quite well enough, and had too much money and too white a face for someone to just call the cops on a faulty report. The Red Scare was technically over by that point, I think, but if a few people made suggestions that he was more loyal to the country that gave him a noble title than to the United States... he received a few warnings, of course, and it could have all blown over..."
"But?"
"But my grandfather is not a man to do things by halves, and instead decided that if the government was to list him as a threat, then he would oblige and make himself a threat," Obi-Wan finishes. "Living up to their labels, rolling with the assumptions, whatever you'd like to call it. It all irked him, and so he made some incredibly questionable decisions to make the government's lives harder. Some weren't bad, like donating to anti-war foundations that were protesting the Gulf War and the interventions in Yugoslavia, that sort of thing, and some were... nobody really looks well on gunrunning, you know."
"For fuck's sake..."
"Indeed," Obi-Wan chuckles. "Ironically, he has minimal opinion on the optimal form of economics, for all that virulent xenophobia and the remnants of anti-communism were involved in the whole mess. He just wanted to create problems for the people that were causing him problems."
Cody shakes his head. "I want to judge that, but you've met my father."
"Jango Fett is, indeed, also not a man to do things by halves," Obi-Wan agrees, attempting to nod gravely but breaking into a smile at the end. "That man is absurd."
"At least he's not dragging Boba into it anymore," Cody mutters. He drags over the fresh sheet of paper and pen that Obi-Wan offers him. "Okay, right, let's start with Jaster..."
#TCW Leverage AU#Disaster Lineage#Modern AU#obi wan kenobi#anakin skywalker#ahsoka tano#Commander Cody#Captain Rex#Implied Codywan#Mentioned Obitine#Implied Rexwalker OR Rexsoka (unclear to POV character)#Yoda#Count Dooku#Qui Gon Jinn#and various others#Phoenix Posts#nazi mention#red scare mention#violence mention#Leverage AU#crossovers#homophobia mention#racism mention
543 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey, you once mentioned something about Tom Riddle being a little suicidal. Your new post reminded of that and I wonder why you think that. It’s the complete opposite of what the books want you to think.
Alright, it’s time, let’s do this.
My standard disclaimer whenever we venture into the dark pit that is my thoughts on Tom Riddle: I’m going to say a lot of controversial stuff that fandom generally doesn’t agree with, I will say so much of this shit that I simply do not have time to explain it all, I expect 99% of you to disagree with me and the other 1% to be so horrifyingly offended that I dare to contemplate a world in which Tom isn’t always an overly competent psychopath that they leave me notes telling me to take this trash out of their character tags.
We good? Alright.
So, when I say a little suicidal, I mean that he is suicidal.
Not on the level that he’s going to kill himself tomorrow, or even has plans to kill himself, but in that he makes very strange decisions for someone who desperately wants to live.
And yes, I realize I speak blasphemy given that Tom Riddle’s entire m.o. is supposed to be his crippling fear of death.
Oh man, this one’s going to be so long.
So, my reasoning comes down to a few things:
The location of the horcruxes and the nature of their protections.
The events of Deathly Hallows and Tom’s final actions in the novel
The nature of horcruxes and what it means to not only be able to create one but what it does to you (caveat that I am going to headcanon hard here and speak utter blasphemy)
So, let’s start in order this time, because I think the first two are actually far easier for me to explain.
The Location and Nature of the Horcrux Protections and the Trouble with Backdoors in Security
So, first, the horcruxes are all conveniently located in Great Britain. Not even just in Great Britain, all in places that Albus Dumbledore and later Harry Potter can track down with relative ease, all fairly close to each other.
Now, part of this is undoubtedly attributable to Tom’s overly romantic nature.
Yes, Tom Riddle is a giant romantic, though not necessarily in the traditional sense everyone thinks of. The film “Patton” and its treatment of Patton comes to mind. Tom Riddle is a man enamored by a sense of greatness, of being remembered in this world rather than fading into oblivion, by the significance of places and times in history not only of the world but of himself. He creates an entire, grand, persona for himself because to live an ordinary life for him is to be worthy of nothing.
So, given that, of course Tom places the horcruxes in sentimental locations that have personal meaning to him.
However, it also makes them perilously easy to find and collect.
By itself, this wouldn’t spark my notice.
The ability to destroy horcruxes are not easy to come by. There’s only one basilisk and it’s by chance/Lucius fucking up that Harry gains access to the necessary basilisk venom. Using Fyendfire is an incredibly dangerous thing to do and just as likely to blow up you and the next three towns over as it is to destroy a horcrux. And if there are other means of destroying a horcrux they’re just as hard to come by or just as dangerous.
It’s not quite throwing it into the fires of Mt. Doom from which it was forged but it’s pretty damn close.
So, really, without JKR’s convenient Deus Ex Machina giving both him and Dumbledore the means to actually destroy these things, Tom Riddle’s horcruxes are pretty damn safe no matter where we put them. As we see from the locket, which Regulus manages to collect but Kreacher cannot destroy even after several decades.
However, what does spark my notice, is that the horcruxes can be collected by someone other than Tom Riddle when it appears as if they were never intended to be. What do I mean by this?
From what we see, there’s no benefit to Tom if the original horcruxes are found by anyone. He doesn’t seek them out to restore his original body, they’re just anchor points that should be hidden at all costs. So, he’ll never need a Death Eater to go collect them for him should he be indisposed (indeed, to do so would require a tremendous amount of trust in people he has very little trust in).
So, why hide them in such a way that others can access them? There are canon based options which would have prevented anyone else from reaching them. Given the existence of age lines, I imagine Tom Riddle could make some arbitrary barrier keyed only to himself. There are mokeskin pouches, such as the one Harry is given in the seventh book, which we know can only be accessed by whoever they’re keyed to. There’s the Fidelius Charm which, true requires a secret keeper which Tom would be very meh on, but options exist.
Tom Riddle could wipe the locations of his horcruxes off the face of the map. He chooses not to. Which leads me to believe that, at least on some unconscious level, he wants the horcruxes to be found.
Then we have the protections.
Specifically, I’m thinking of the locket here.
Yes, the protections are very formidable, but they’re also goddamn weird.
Rather than make the horcrux simply inaccessible, kill all those intruding, instead the intruder has to go through a very “Saw” like puzzle in which they drown themselves in despair until they finally get the locket, at which point they likely suicide by zombie.
More, there’s no hint that there’s any other way to retrieve the locket.
Backdoors in security are a very bad idea. What they do is weaken the security as a whole and, if you can take a short cut is, it means that someone who is clever enough and motivated enough can to. Dumbledore is both clever and motivated enough, and I imagine if there was a way to get the horcrux that involved not doing this ridiculous task he would have done it.
More, we’d be back to the land of Tom making sure only he can access the horcrux by requiring a password, keying it to his magical signature, or something so that no one else could get it.
Which means, that’s right, if Tom wants to get the locket he’s drinking the goddamn despair juice just like the rest of us.
What kind of a person would do any of this?
I’ve gone over this before, but I don’t think Tom Riddle’s crazy. Rather, in this case, I think he’s driven by an unbelievable amount of nihilist rage and is also quite depressed.
Tom goes to collect his horcrux, “Ah, it’s time to remember what a miserable life I’ve led and the sheer awfulness of my own existence. Good, I was starting to feel a little too happy. Let’s see if I get eaten by my undead, vengeful, victims today.”
The Events of Deathly Hallows and Tom Riddle’s Death
I think Tom Riddle’s final death in the books was suicide.
Tom takes over the Wizarding World, finally, and it’s as miserable as ever.
He’s trapped in this sham, barely functional, probably very painful body. His Death Eaters are completely out of control and for all that he wanted society to burn it’s now burning and no one’s even learned anything from this. Children in Hogwarts are being routinely tortured and have now staged a rebellion in which he’s having to slaughter them (I have reasons to believe that this is not what Tom Riddle wanted, at all, but that’s best saved for another post), and then he learns his horcruxes have all been destroyed without him even noticing.
There’s so little left of him, he has accomplished nothing, and there’s Harry Potter back from the dead yet again, gloating at him that love conquers all and Tom Riddle will never understand.
And Harry’s right, Tom Riddle will never understand, the world is meaningless and flat to him now and he finally understand that there’s no point to it. I think Tom Riddle decides he’s done. He’s just done.
He enters in a duel with Harry Potter knowing the weird nature of their wands. Now, it can be assumed he used the Elder Wand, but we know they get locked in Priori Incatatum , and that makes no damn sense with the Elder Wand (well, wandlore in general is silly, but I’m working with what JKR gave me here). So I choose to take JKR at her somewhat established canon and say that, no matter what Harry thought, Voldemort was using his original wand.
He throws out the killing curse, despite having now witnessed Harry resurrecting twice to this thing, and within two seconds it rebounds and kills him.
Voldemort’s death is a lot like this scene from the recent, terrible, 2020 live action Mulan (10/10 do not recommend). Now, we’re supposed to think that this scene is the witch saving Mulan’s life and thus showing her hope for the next generation. In actuality, the witch literally flies into an arrow she could have easily deflected from Mulan’s path. It’s a suicide that Mulan is too stupid to notice.
Tom chooses suicide in the most ridiculous, flamboyant, and easily written off manner one can and no one even notices. Instead Harry crows that he has personally defeated Voldemort, with the power of love no less, HUZZAH!
And the castle parties.
The Nature of Horcruxes
I almost don’t want to include this because it’s so... well, I’m really drifting far from canon and fandom now.
However, with horcruxes, there’s always an overriding question of why Tom is able to make so many when we don’t see anyone else with these things around (especially as it’s clear that murder doesn’t simply happen for those that now have horcruxes).
Usually, you have fic authors just sort of shrug and go, “Well, he’s that evil, I guess.” Sometimes you have them go, “No one else is crazy enough to keep going, and that’s why Voldemort’s cuckoo bananas.”
One very good explanation I’ve seen is that it’s because most people, when they murder, feel remorse immediately. The soul split happens, but they’re haunted by the murder for the rest of their life, and thus the horcrux isn’t made. Voldemort, feeling nothing when he kills anyone, is thus able to make them even for when he’s only indirectly associated with the death in question.
However, to me that never really jived philosophically.
Mostly, I simply cannot imagine that tearing apart your very soul is an act of indifference. Here’s how I see it: to do something like that to yourself, you must care, you must care beyond all imagine and human endurance. Your soul literally cannot abide it and saws itself in half, purging what you cannot stand about yourself the most.
The remorse part is, yes, remorse for the act and the victim but more to the point it is the ability to forgive and reaccept the worst part of yourself. That part of yourself that you purged and destroyed, which is nearly impossible to do and might very well destroy the fabric of who you are).
In other words, while creating a horcrux is an abominable act of hatred, it is also one of profound self-hatred.
Tom Riddle loathes himself so much that he is able to do this over and over and over again.
As Tom Riddle goes on he makes himself into less and less and less of himself until he probably doesn’t even know who he is anymore. He just knows, whatever is left of him, he loathes that too.
And then, of course, he gives up, runs into the nearest flying arrow, and dies.
TL;DR: Tom Riddle’s is a miserable existence that ended in a miserable if unintentionally hilarious manner
493 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
yuunaaoshi
Henx
playar4
Untitled
vancityeisenberg
neurotic
moonstonemoonlight
Gonna draw or something
mmelonheadd
THE HOME OF MELONHEAD