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#like sorry you didn’t have the mental capacity to understand it but like….. you don’t have to understand the underlying themes and metaphors

ghostkennedy · 11 months

Text

Choke Me

~Leon Kennedy x female! Reader~

Word count: 2127

This is my writing for an anonymous request that I have copied below:

“I was thinking, (with a female reader please) it’s set just after the story of RE4 and you are Leon’s work partner and romantical partner, so (there is a scene in the original where he chokes Ada and this is kinda inspired by that) back in Spain he was momentarily mind controlled and strangled you. Now that you guys are back home the bruises have formed on your neck and he refuses to touch you out of guilt, but all you know is that he refuses to touch you, so you try to seduce him almost by doing stuff like wearing lingerie, laying seductively. Then one moment it almost works but he closes himself off again so you confront him and want him to tell you what’s wrong, then he tells you and you guys have a heart to heart. Then it ends in a smut!”

Content warnings: smut, sexual content, small argument, reader self-deprecating, choking, worship/degrading/praise kink meshed into one, love bites, oral (female receiving,) fingering, overstimulation, consecutive orgasms

!!!!!!MINORS DNI! GHOSTKENNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+!!!!!!!

“You know what? Fuck this. And fuck you too actually,” you said before pushing yourself up from the dining table, your chair scrapping across the hardwood floor. “I can’t even find it within myself to be sorry when you won’t tell me what I’ve fucking done. You see the issue with that, don’t you?” Leon sat completely still in his chair across from you, eyes wide.

He stumbled over his words, unable to formulate a response to your outburst. “I,” he begins before sighing deeply, “what?” He gave you a disbelieving look and it had you seeing red. Your hands were shaking at the confrontation playing out.

“Is this it for us then?” you asked, somehow managing to keep your voice level. You wanted to cry, you wanted to scream, you wanted to reach across the table and shake the man. Your heart felt like it was crumbling in your chest and your fight or flight mode was activating.

“What are you talking about?” Leon tilted his head and shrugged his shoulders at you. How was he going to sit there and act as if your reaction is preposterous? “Let’s just eat-”

You didn’t give him a chance to continue his suggestion. You had no energy and not an ounce of mental capacity to bullshit around with him anymore.

“No, let’s not just eat, Leon. You won’t look at me, you won’t touch me. Fuck, you can barely even talk to me. It’s like I’m not even here. I’ve never felt so,” your eyes scanned the wall behind him as you searched for the words, “I feel like I’m nothing. I feel so fucking shitty. And I don’t want to feel this way anymore. I’m really fucking tired of feeling this way. So you tell me. Is this it between us?”

You fell back down into your chair and let your head fall back. You let out a sigh to try and ease your nerves, but your lungs still felt like they couldn’t take a steady breath. You force yourself to take a few deep breaths before bringing your head back down to face Leon.

“Why would you,” Leon nervously bit his lip, “Why would you think this is it for us?”

“Because of the way you’ve been making me feel, Leon. Did you hear anything I just said?”

“No, well, yes I was listening,” he struggled to maintain eye contact with you, “None of this has anything to do with you. Or with us. I’m just, I’m just struggling.”

“Struggling with me? I don’t understand. Help me understand,” you were basically begging him at this point. You would beg, plead, bargain your soul for him to just talk to you. You were partners, best friends, lovers, but he couldn’t even look you in the eyes.

“I almost killed you,” he said plainly.

You raised your eyebrows at him, “Well, a lot of things have almost killed me.”

“When I was choking you, it may not have been me doing it and I know it was out of my control,” he takes a shaky breath, “But fuck man. I was still there. I had to watch as life slowly left your eyes in my hands. Because of me. At my hands.” He seemed lost in his own head once again. “How do I get over that? Every time I look at you, I’m taken back to that moment.” His eyes had glazed over and he tried to blink them back into focus.

You quickly stood up from your chair again and climbed over the table to him. You knocked over all sorts of food and drinks, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care at all. You pushed his plate to the side as you sat down in front of him, your legs draping around either side of him.

You bring your fingers to his chin and slowly lift his face up to look at you. “Can I be honest with you, Leon?” you asked him as you gently ran your fingers across his jaw. He nodded as he continued to stare up at you.

An airy laugh left your mouth before you slowly shook your head. “I don’t think I was scared at all. I know it wasn’t you doing it, but I was still looking up at you as you were still looking down at me. And I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy that moment. It felt intimate almost. Felt like a level of vulnerability between us,” a blush slowly crept up your cheeks.

“You enjoyed me, nearly choking you to death?” he asked slowly.

“Well, not the almost to death part. But the choking was intense,” you shook your head and laughed, “I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

Leon’s fingers deftly ghosted over the marks on your neck as you closed your eyes and absorbed his touch. His fingers caressed the skin back and forth, over and over.

“I can’t get rid of the memories, but,” Leon paused, deep in thought.

“But you could cover them with new ones,” you finished for him. You two were so close that it was often easy to put together what the other one was trying to say.

His hand wrapped around your throat, each finger perfectly matched up with the previously left marks. He slowly applied pressure to your neck. You gulped deeply at the touch, only further pressing your neck into his palm. He didn’t cut off your air, but he slowed the blood flow to your brain.

Your brain went foggy. Feeling as if you were encased in clouds. You felt weightless, almost detached from your own body. It was blissful and the longer he choked you, the more arousal started to pool deep in your belly.

His lips found your jaw, barely making contact with your skin as he left ghostly kisses up and down the edge. His hand fell from your neck as he stood up in front of you. One of his hands held tightly to your waist as the other hand tangled in your hair. He tilted your head back, fully baring your neck for him.

He left a line of gentle kisses across your entire throat. Not one dark spot was left untouched by his lips. He then started to suck deeply on the tender skin. Your legs were wrapped around his waist as he left a different kind of bruise over the previous ones.

He gripped your jaw and turned you to face the decorative mirror across the room. “Look at you. Every time you see your reflection, you’ll be reminded of how much of a good girl you are for me. My good fucking girl,” he spoke darkly into your ear, continuing to firmly hold your jaw in his hand.

He abruptly turned you back to him and his lips went crashing into yours. You couldn’t help but whimper as you rolled your hips into his.

His hands held your hips firmly in place, stopping you from grinding into him any further. “I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart,” he chuckled into your mouth.

“Please, I want you so bad, Leon-”

“Oh I know, and you’re gonna fucking take it too. But it seems you’ve forgotten just what you do to me. And I’m gonna have so much fun reminding you,” he pushed your back down onto the table, pushing your knees apart to make more room for him. A plate went crashing to the floor, but neither of you flinched, too caught up in each other to be worried about a worthless dish.

He pushed your skirt up until it was bunched at your waist, displaying your lacy panties with an obvious wet spot decorating them.

“All for me, princess? You shouldn’t have,” he tsked as he yanked your panties down your legs, causing you to yelp before tossing them somewhere behind you. He stared at your wet pussy, “Fuck. Glad I still have that effect on you, baby. You get wet like a fucking virgin for me, yeah?”

You whimpered as your hips involuntarily raised up in search of friction. Leon dropped to his knees, his mouth level with your spread cunt. Your legs draped over his shoulders as he sucked little love bites into your plush thighs.

“Please,” you whined, “I need you to touch me so bad, fuck.”

“Of course, sweet girl. I’m going to stay on my knees and worship this sweet, little pussy until I’ve had my fill of you. You’ll never question who my God is ever again,” as soon as the words left his mouth, his lips were connecting directly to your clit and sucking harshly.

Your hips bucked up into his mouth as he continued his intense movements against your pussy. It felt like more than an oral fixation; he truly was showing you what it meant to worship something so absolute through his mouth on your pussy.

He pulled his mouth away from your pussy and watched as he shoved two fingers inside of you. Your pussy was clenching around his thick fingers. The wet sounds coming from his movements were loud and downright pornographic.

“Fuck, look at me, baby. Look how your pussy sucks up my fingers. Such a desperate fucking hole,” he instructed you as you looked down and watched as his fingers spread you open sloppily. You could see your arousal running down his hands and your thighs. It was at that moment that his fingers curled just right and found that sweet, sweet fucking spot inside of you.

Curses started pouring from your lips as you arched your back, allowing him to hit your sweet spot every time his fingers moved inside of you. With his free hand he reached up and gripped the back of your head, forcing you to look down at him.

“Fucking watch me when I fuck you,” he said harshly. Your mouth was hanging open as you panted uncontrollably. His mouth came back to your clit and he flicked his tongue over it so fast yet so gentle at the same time. You struggled to keep your eyes open as he created the perfect storm inside of you, slowly and persistently sending you closer and closer to your climax.

You weren’t sure how much time passed, his tongue devouring your clit and his fingers fucking your tight hole. Each second felt drawn out as the sensations overtook your brain.

You were shaking and pathetically moaning beneath his touch. He held you so close to your release for what felt like an eternity before he fucked his fingers deeper into you and sent you soaring over the edge.

Your head slammed back into the table and maybe if you weren’t so far gone, you would’ve felt the pain of the hard hit. But that would be a problem for another time. The only thing you could think of right now was the hot, intoxicating pleasure wracking through your whole body.

Your body started to tremble from the overstimulation as you tried to push Leon away, but he never slowed his movements. It was too much, the pleasure was almost painful. Your face felt like it was burning up as drool poured down your chin. If you had the ability to speak, you would’ve pleaded with him to stop. Your hands desperately searched for something to grasp onto, before entangling them in his hair.

You felt like you might start sobbing, but then your back was arching and you were coming again. The orgasm hit you harder than any other one had ever hit you before. It had you screaming, wrapping your thighs tightly around Leon’s head, and tears pouring from your eyes. It seemed to last forever, every muscle in your body spasming with pleasure.

Leon pulled away and leaned over you. He kissed your neck as you tried to catch your breath. You kept whining as the aftershocks coursed through you. Everytime you got a proper breath into your lungs, it felt like your clit would pulse and you would be whimpering again.

“Open your eyes,” Leon demanded and you immediately complied. “How do you feel? Have any doubts, baby?” he spoke condescendingly.

“I feel fucking ravished,” you spoke breathlessly. Your huffing and puffing persisted as he chuckled at you.

“I’m not even close to being done with this pussy. You’re gonna take it and take it and fucking take it until you feel destroyed and worshiped at the same time. I’ll make you understand how it feels to be a God, baby,” he told you before spreading your legs open for him again.

How will you be able to feel like a God if Leon sends you to meet him first?

~masterlist~

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raspberryfingers · 11 days

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A Lion in the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 10)

WARNINGS: None

Word Count: 8.6k

A/N: Let me say that I am SO sorry guys, I know I haven't updated in forever. This year has been genuine hell for me and because of that I really haven't had the time or mental capacity to update. It will probably stay that way, but hopefully I'll work through my chapters slowly. Thank you all so much for being understanding.

—————

I was determined to change Tywin’s mind. It was something I commonly attempted, and very rarely did not succeed in. However, he was quite relentless upon the subject of marrying Sansa Stark to Tyrion, along with marrying Cersei to Loras. I personally had no intention of letting that stand.

In my opinion, it was clear that his daughter had gotten to his head about my house plotting against theirs. It was understandable to want Sansa Stark for themselves, but I would under no circumstance allow Loras to marry Cersei Lannister.

And so, just as I constantly did now, I found myself in the Hand’s office. Conversation and interaction with the Hand of the King had become a daily ritual, it seemed.

“Good morning, Tywin,” I said, being let into his office and finding him at his desk despite the fact that it was only 7:00 in the morning. He finished a thought and then set his quill down, looking up at me.

“You’re up rather early,” he noted, almost as if it didn’t apply to him either. I raised an eyebrow, folding my hands together.

“I have something to discuss with you that requires immediate attention, and I didn’t want to risk interfering with other meetings or plans, as this might be a long conversation,” I informed, making my way to his desk. As my shoes clacked against the stone floor, he sighed.

“I haven’t a clue what it is that you’d like to discuss,” he remarked sarcastically, leaning back in his chair and resting his hands in his lap.

“Do I need to tell Pycelle that you are having problems with your memory? I’m sure he’d be able to sympathize with you,” I teased him, grinning as I did. Tywin only gave me a look and shook his head.

“Very well, if it pleases you to continue the conversation that even your grandmother could not win, then we shall,” he said, standing from his chair and making his way around the desk. He pulled my chair out for me, and I thanked him with a nod, putting my hand under my skirts as I sat.

“I’m not my grandmother—I know you far better. I’m also not here to make excuses about why we don’t want Loras to marry Cersei, I’m here to explain why it makes no sense. Trust me on this, Tywin, I did plenty of thinking after my grandmother told me what you’d proposed,” I began, enjoying the amusement in his eyes as he sat across from me and sipped the water in his cup. This was going to be quite the conversation.

“Go on then, tell me why it ‘makes no sense’, as you say.”

I straightened in my chair, pressing my lips together for a moment and then beginning. “I know your daughter believes that we—the Tyrells—are plotting against you, and perhaps I can understand where she’s coming from. After all, it’s no secret that I previously had quite a lot of disdain for you. If it had been up to me alone, I probably would have plotted against you.”

Tywin raised his eyebrows, but I did not smile. This was a serious subject, there was no reason to.

“However, that is an utterly ridiculous notion due to the fact that I have always prioritized my siblings. If Cersei does not trust me, then so be it, but our alliance is going to be solidified by a marriage. And yes, we both know Margaery and Joffrey’s marriage is political, though that doesn’t change the fact that you need us for our gold and crops, just as we need you to validate Margaery’s claim as queen. We both benefit, Tywin. I should hope you studied enough science as a boy to know what the term mutualism means,” I said accusingly, to which he waved a hand as a silent ‘oh hush’ and scoffed.

“Yes, Margaery needs Joffrey to ‘officially’ have that title, but let’s not pretend that his title makes him the most powerful. By giving your sister access to him, we—or rather I—have allowed her to take quite a lot of power. Now, I would not go so far as to say that I agree with Cersei about the plotting, because most of her evidence is that Margaery has succeeded in manipulating Joffrey, just as you expected she would. That does not bother me at all, Joffrey needs it. What does bother me is that despite already having plenty of access to power, your family wants to thank me for it by seeking out even more. By stealing it from us,” Tywin said, looking away with aggravation. I sighed, shaking my head and gripping the arms of my chair as I replied.

“It is less about lowering House Lannister than it is strengthening House Tyrell. We have an eldest son that needs marrying and Sansa is the first Stark daughter, to me it seems natural. And, it is not as if your family had some sort of claim to her as anything besides a prisoner of war.”

Tywin huffed and adjusted his seat, beginning to open his mouth until I put my hand out to silence him. He glared, but let me speak anyway.

“Let me put it this way, then. I believe that our continued alliance means that Loras marrying Sansa would increase the power of both of our houses. If we have access to the north, then so do you by association,” I reasoned, raising my eyebrows at him to emphasize my words.

“Yes, in theory we would, but currently our alliance is only officially bound by a manipulative marriage. How am I to trust the strength of our alliance when that is its foundation?” Tywin replied, making me smile softly. Gods, he truly was naive sometimes.

“Their marriage is not its foundation, Tywin, we are. But nonetheless, I already prepared for you having such an opinion. That is why… well, why I am prepared to go to great lengths to ensure that you feel our alliance is strong enough to call off Loras’ marriage to Cersei, especially because Joffrey is a Baratheon in name,” I said, taking a deep breath. The Great Lion only stared at me, slightly turning his head with curiosity.

“To- to strengthen the alliance between our houses, I will- I will marry Tyrion. I have nothing to gain from marrying your son, only something to lose, and yet I will do it anyway if it convinces you that it is no real loss to call off the marriage between Cersei and Loras,” I announced shakily, pulling my hands into my lap so he would not see them tremble.

I watched Tywin’s face for a reaction, and was surprised to see his eyebrows raise and his mouth fall open. I’d truly managed to shock Tywin Lannister.

“You would marry Tyrion to prove our alliance strong?” He clarified, still gaping at me. I would have laughed, but the thought of marrying—not Tyrion specifically, but in general—terrified me. I swallowed and nodded, trying to stop the quivering in my hands.

“Not even Jaime? You are the eldest daughter, (Y/N),” he questioned, utterly bewildered. I only gave him a condescending look.

“Whether you want to accept it or simply live in delusion, Jaime is a part of the Kingsguard. Not to mention, he’s also not here,” I reminded him, to which he scoffed.

“You would truly marry Tyrion? You’re being serious?”

“Yes, I would marry him. That is how much I genuinely believe in our two houses working together rather than against each other. Does that satisfy you?” I said, trying not to let my tone waiver. I was pinching my wrist in my lap, dreading his verdict.

All that Tywin had ever wanted was to be rid of Tyrion, and previous marriage proposals with other houses had not gone so well for him. As he stared at me and contemplated, all I could expect was to hear him say yes. As he had just pointed out, I was the eldest Tyrell daughter. Why shouldn’t he want to marry me to Tyrion?

There was silence for several minutes, and I could see on his face that he was thinking. I hadn’t a clue what he was thinking about, for this seemed to be a very simple thing to me. If anything, I was surprised he hadn’t instantly accepted.

“No, it does not satisfy me. I would never let Tyrion marry you, he is not worthy of a woman such as yourself,” Tywin said finally, hand clenching onto the arm of his chair. Relief went through me, though I was slightly upset by the fact that Tywin was being so rude. “And even if Jaime was here, I wouldn’t marry him to you either. No man in all seven kingdoms is worthy of you.”

We both stared at each other in silence, and there was an odd tension in the air. My lips parted, and he inhaled slowly. We only snapped out of it when he forced himself to look away, reaching for his cup and taking a sip.

“Either way, you’ve proven your point. Our alliance is strong enough that we don’t need a further marriage bond. And, since it is so strong, we would both benefit from Sansa Stark’s claim. However, by your logic, if Sansa Stark were to marry Tyrion, then your family would receive the same benefits as before. There is no reason for me to cancel that betrothal,” Tywin reasoned then, making me scoff and shake my head.

“No. I’m grateful that you at least understand the lack of need to marry your daughter to Loras, but I still feel that he ought to be with Sansa instead,” I replied, shifting in my chair because I’d been sitting here for so long now. Tywin looked at me and then chuckled softly.

“You’re asking quite a lot of me, (Y/N). You should know better.”

“It is you who should know better. Sansa Stark is a sweet girl with few demands, I suppose I have your family to thank for that. You’ve treated her so poorly that all she desires is to be living in Highgarden; she has no expectations of Loras. And, because it is no secret that my brother is fond of men, when she realizes that it may cause disappointment, but it will not be ruinous for their marriage,” I explained to him, only pausing for a moment before continuing with my point.

“Plus, Margaery’s marriage to Joffrey will ensure our alliance for long enough that we will both get Sansa Stark’s claim once her children are of age.” I leaned back in my chair, feeling quite satisfied with how well this was going for me. I could see Tywin fighting for an excuse.

“You would be putting a Tyrell child in charge of Winterfell. You may share that claim with us, but the same cannot be guaranteed for the next generation or two. If I were to marry her to Tyrion, it is an absolute guarantee that a Lannister male will have Winterfell.

“An easy problem to fix, Tywin. Whatever children Loras and Sansa have will marry at least one of Tyrion’s children. That way the Tyrell-Lannister alliance will continue and give those children continued power over the North,” I bargained with him, feeling quite content with such a solution.

“But the rulers of the North would be Tyrell in name.”

“An unfortunate pill you must swallow. I have already explained why it makes more sense for Sansa to marry Loras than your son. Tyrion is better used securing an alliance with another house. There are plenty of eligible daughters, and marrying him to a woman from another, lower house, has no effect. He’s a son of Tywin Lannister, the most powerful man in Westeros. Plus, you’re not the only one who begrudges him for being a dwarf, people wouldn’t think twice if he married a woman a bit lower in status than he. Perhaps a Karstark or a Frey to ensure that they do not join Robb Stark.”

The Great Lion blinked at me slowly, clearly not appreciating the way I was over explaining it to him. Though, he had to admit that it was sound reasoning.

“And what of your brother? None of you shy away from the fact that he is not entirely fond of female company. How can you ensure children from his marriage to the Stark girl?” He asked, folding his hands in his lap with a sort of relaxation. Clearly he’d been waiting to bring this up, and I rolled my eyes.

“Loras is aware of what is expected of him, and is willing to put his desires aside. It was a topic discussed at length when we first learned of his inclinations, and he was quite understanding. There can also be a bedding ceremony, if you should truly require that much assurance,” I said with a sigh, knowing that it was a likely thing to happen. It was rather odd, I felt, that even a man like Tywin Lannister had not been able to deny his own bedding ceremony. Such was the reign of Aerys, though that was long over. There was little shame in admitting that the Hand of the King was most powerful now.

“A bedding ceremony is naturally expected. It will perhaps convince other nobles to ignore the rumors about him,” he replied, looking away as he did. The subject seemed to make him uncomfortable.

“They’re not rumors, Tywin. Let them think whatever they’d like, it doesn’t affect us. I will say, though, that I was quite disgusted by what you think of Loras,” I huffed out, shaking my head at him. His eyes settled on me again, and his eyebrows suddenly furrowed.

“It is unnatural.”

“In my eyes, it’s a preference. Just as some men like younger women and others like older women. We can’t control any of that. Plus, it does not affect his ability to fight, fence, or function as a regular man,” I reasoned, not really understanding why Tywin or anybody else should make such a big deal of it.

“And yet he’s engaging in intercourse that would not produce children. That is what I consider unnatural,” he shot back, brows raising at me as he said it. I gave him a look of utter disappointment, almost as if asking if he was serious.

“Oh Tywin, please. Not all intercourse is for that purpose, even between a man and a woman. You have three children, and by all accounts quite loved your wife. I’m certain you’re familiar with acts of pleasure that don’t produce children,” I laughed, shaking my head at how ridiculous the conversation was.

“My opinion upon the subject is final. You’re more than welcome to feel anger about it.”

“What I feel is more than anger, Tywin, it is disgust—both at you and at myself. How can I, in good conscience, be friends with a man who thinks so poorly of my dear brother? What if I had the same inclinations, Tywin? What would you think of me then?” I said accusingly, glaring at him as I posed the question. Did he truly expect me to look past such an opinion? I admittedly had felt some attraction towards women in the past, though the interest was not exclusive as my brother’s was. The Hand of the King paused as he contemplated.

“I don’t mean to cause offense. It is simply what I believe, just as many others do. If you were to feel the same attraction that your brother does, I would not hold it against you, just as I don’t with your brother, for it is not his only quality,” Tywin replied with a sigh, his shoulders finally relaxing. I shook my head at him, my stomach beginning to sink.

“And since when have you been like anyone else? I suppose I simply just don’t understand why you have such an opinion. I have already disproved what you believe makes it fundamentally unnatural. If your belief stems from religion then I’d like to remind you that the gods… well, you know very well how the gods can be,” I said, pausing myself at the end when I saw the look in his eyes. He knew better than anyone how cruel they were.

“Yes, yes I do…”

I paused, swallowing and looking around before speaking.

“I just- I don’t understand why you chose to dislike a group of people that has never personally offended you,” I said, realization suddenly coming to me when I saw the look on his face. “Unless…”

“I don’t wish to discuss this topic anymore, (Y/N). Our previous conversation was far more relevant.”

“My grandmother said you were quite aggravated by her questioning of your own desires… that you were very insistent upon not being like my brother. I cannot help but wonder, Tywin, if perhaps this hatred comes from your own self loathing. If perhaps you have felt such attraction in the past and did not like feeling that way,” I said, slowly leaning forward in my chair as the puzzle pieces came together. His firm denial of it suddenly made quite a lot of sense.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you know very well that my love for my wife was genuine and strong. To insinuate such a thing-“

“Tywin, you do realize that such feelings are not exclusive, don’t you? I am well aware of how much you loved Joanna, but it does not mean that you cannot also have attraction to men. Perhaps you prefer women, but that doesn’t exclude your same sex entirely. I am simply curious… as you did mention frequently leaving the castle with the late King Aerys… and leaving alone,” I pointed out, watching him grow increasingly uncomfortable. I’d figured it out, it seemed. His eyes were extremely avoidant, and he could not stop shifting in his seat and biting his cheeks. He was embarrassed.

“I do not wish to discuss this.”

I stared at him, and suddenly softened. He was ashamed, of course. And how could I blame him? To be the most powerful man in Westeros, the Hand of the King, and the Lord of Casterly Rock. His job had been to build his house up, to rid the sound of shameful laughter from his halls. So what then if people should discover that the son of the Laughing Lion had ‘unnatural’ inclinations?

I reached across the table, offering him my hand. He did not look at me and he did not take it.

“Listen to me, Tywin. You may not be ready to come to terms with it, and you may not be anywhere near comfortable with discussing such a subject, but know that I am here if you ever want to. Clearly, I don’t think anything of it, and I personally have felt attraction towards women just as well as men. I hope that eventually you will come to see it as I have, for I do not want you to hate yourself for it,” I said softly, looking at him the whole time even despite the fact that he would not look at me.

There was silence after I finished speaking, and only after a minute did he finally adjust his eyes. Tywin looked at my open palm, and with a bit of hesitation he took it. He did not say anything, but I saw his lip tremble as I squeezed his hand.

“I- I consent to the marriage between your brother and Sansa Stark, though begrudgingly. I will discuss it with my children. Tyrion needs to marry regardless, I can’t imagine he’ll like that, but he seemed to pity the Stark girl so at least he can be comforted by that. There’s no doubt in my mind Cersei will continue to try and convince me you’re all plotting, but I suspect all I’ll have to do is remind her that she’s getting out of a marriage thanks to you. Well, getting out of one for now,” he said, letting go of my grip and taking a deep breath.

I nodded, standing up and slowly going over to him. His eyes fixed themself on me as I made my way around the desk. When I reached him, I began to bend down. As a response, he stiffened and froze, entirely uncertain of what I intended to do.

I found myself pressing my lips to his forehead, and my hand came to his hair. His breath caught in his throat, and when I pulled away there was a slightly confused look on his face.

“Thank you, Tywin. I know it’s all politics and such, but I am grateful that you listened to me and understood my point of view. This way, we both succeed and don’t have to sacrifice as much happiness within our families,” I said, reaching for his hand again and giving it another small squeeze.

He nodded, hesitating for a moment before pressing it to his lips. My cheeks heated, though I had not a clue why. It was a common gesture, there was certainly nothing special about it.

But I could not deny the feeling of goosebumps forming along my arm, and the pleasant feeling of his mouth against my skin. A friend had never brought me such comfort before.

When he let it go, I gave him a gentle smile and turned to leave, but was surprised to hear him call out for me.

“(Y/N), wait.”

I faced him again and raised an eyebrow. He’d sat up straighter, and he sighed out as he spoke.

“Since you’re here, there’s something else I’d like to talk about. Especially in light of all that we have just discussed,” he said, his lips thinning as he finished. I could tell this would not be a fun conversation either, somehow.

“Oh?”

“I would like your advice. Another perspective, perhaps. I know what I would like to do, but you are always insistent on doing the opposite of that. And, since it does involve the war, it’s something you ought to hear about,” he explained, much to my curiosity. Had some opportunity presented itself?

I sat down again, and Tywin got up to pour both of us wine. I thanked him when he brought it back over to me. Gods, what a morning.

“So, tell me, what do you require my humble advice about?” I asked, grinning at him rather widely. He shook his head with feigned disappointment.

“Well, Robb Stark beheaded Rickard Karstark just as we had all expected. Since those forces have marched home, he is now trying to convince Edmure Tully to marry a daughter of Walder Frey. He is waving the olive branch, just as you suggested he would.”

I nodded, unsurprised by everything he’d just said. I still had not figured out where he was going with this.

“And if I remember correctly, you said Walder Frey would not make an alliance with him. It seems that’s what he is doing, is he not? Unless there’s something I’m unaware of,” I recounted, an uneasy feeling creeping into my stomach while I did.

“That is what I intend to ask your advice on. Walder Frey was obviously furious that Robb Stark broke his promise. Well, now he seeks revenge for it. He sent a letter asking for the support of House Lannister,” he explained, beginning to avoid my eyes. I started to feel even worse, as I somehow suspected that whatever plan he was about to mention did not involve anything pleasant for Robb Stark.

“Our support to do what, Tywin?” I questioned, holding the arms of my chair now. I hadn’t even been conscious of my usage of ‘our’.

“The plan, essentially, would be to have Robb Stark, his wife, and his mother murdered at that wedding. It would provide allies in House Bolton and House Frey.”

The room was utterly silent besides the sound of our breathing, and I began to feel somewhat queasy. I desired very deeply to end the war… but this… well, this was quite different from any battle. It would ensure victory, but at what cost?

“Roose Bolton would turn?” I asked, trying to process that information first.

“He already has. It was his bastard who burned down Winterfell, not the Ironborn as Robb Stark was led to believe,” Tywin informed me, to which I nodded. It was not entirely surprising; Roose Bolton seemed the type of man to play such a game.

With that out of the way, I further pondered the proposal Tywin had just made. Killing an entire family at a wedding. Winning the war. There were so many pros and so many cons.

“You disapprove of the idea, I take it,” Tywin said finally, seeing that the words had gotten stuck in my throat. I wet my lips with my tongue and then took a deep breath.

“Just- just give me a moment to think. I need to think,” I replied, fidgeting with the sleeve of my dress.

It was an incredibly tough scenario to contemplate. Breaking guest right that way would forever make the north wary of us, and the seven kingdoms were already far too disunited. Not to mention, I would be allowing the murder and possible rape of women by agreeing with him. Tywin could order his own men to not do such a thing, but if the Freys would be committing the act, then…

I did not want to become the person I had lectured Tywin for being, but what else could we do? We could certainly just wait for Robb Stark’s forces to grow tired and beaten down, yet further peace was needed. The distrust would boil over eventually.

Suddenly, an idea began to form in my head, and I nodded to myself as I thought it all out. Perhaps it would work, just maybe.

“Tywin, consider why the Young Wolf is waging war against us. Obviously he marched for Ned Stark at first, but now that his father’s dead the reasoning becomes more murky. Perhaps revenge is part of it, but more than anything he wants his sister back and he wants to go home. With Loras and Sansa to wed and Robb Stark’s forces so small, what if… well, what if we sent them to him? I know it sounds utterly insane, but why would he continue to wage war if his sister is home? If Sansa is happy in her marriage to my brother then it would be even more convincing,” I said, slowly stringing together my thought process and hoping to find a solution.

“With your family linked so closely to mine, who’s to say he wouldn’t just murder Loras?” Tywin asked, turning his head with a sort of caution.

“Because he would most assuredly be crushed then, and I’d personally see to such a thing. But, either way, Robb Stark is an honorable man; if we offer an olive branch, perhaps he’ll take it. And if not him, I cannot imagine his mother wanting to further risk their lives when Sansa is home safe,” I reasoned, taking a sip of wine and letting it soothe the headache that had begun to form.

“You would give him another opportunity to swear fealty? We already tried that, (Y/N), and he responded by calling up his bannermen,” Tywin demurred, raising a wary eyebrow at me. I sighed, shaking my head as I elaborated.

“But the circumstances are vastly different now. The only reason he took up arms was because Ned Stark was imprisoned, and at his age I’m sure he and plenty of others were itching for war. Now he’s been betrayed by Theon Greyjoy and lost an enormous amount of his forces. There is zero possibility of him winning against the largest force in Westeros, no matter how hard he tries. Whether we side with Walder Frey or merely meet him on the battlefield, his entire family will be slaughtered regardless. We ought to give him this out,” I said, knowing deep down that it was the right thing to do. After all, what boy wouldn’t fight for the lives of his father and sisters? He’d not made it in time for Ned, now he just wanted to make it in time for Sansa.

“You’d like to do this out of honor? Is that it?” He questioned, trying to figure out my intentions. I shook my head again. It was hard to express exactly what I meant in this scenario.

“Honor is something to be cautious about. If I can avoid the murder of an entire family, I will. To me that’s more about morality than honor. The way I see it, we could end this war by doing that, but if we do, the North will never trust us again. Ending the war isn’t enough, we need to work on reuniting the seven kingdoms. I believe that if we make peace with Robb Stark, and perhaps help him rebuild Winterfell, it would be a step towards doing that,” I explained, watching his face for any kind of reaction.

Tywin contemplated, and I could tell that he wanted to see it the way that I did, but he was still unsure. I couldn’t blame him, for quite a lot of things could go wrong in this scenario. It was entirely possible that Robb Stark was so furious about his father’s death that he would never even consider making peace with us, and that thought did make me uneasy. What if sending Loras and Sansa cost the Lannisters a bargaining piece and me a family member?

“Perhaps he will agree, but I’m hesitant. To him, the Tyrells are enemies; you’re siding with a family that killed his father. I cannot imagine he’s particularly eager to make peace with us,” Tywin said, drinking some of his own wine. As he raised his cup, I noticed that the morning sun was shining on his ring. It looked beautiful.

“If Sansa is married to Loras, she could help convince Robb Stark to agree. She’s close with my entire family, and she trusts us. I suppose my grandmother and sister are the first people who’ve shown her an ounce of kindness in quite some time. It would be useful. Her testimony might be enough to make Robb Stark trust our intentions,” I pointed out, now even more glad that Tywin had agreed to let them marry.

“He may trust the intentions of House Tyrell, but he certainly will not trust mine. He’s not going to want to bend the knee to Joffrey even if you give him that choice.”

“Right now, I don’t think he gets to refuse. As I said, if his sister is home and his numbers are small, he ought to be wise and return home. When we send Loras and Sansa, perhaps… perhaps allow me to go with them. Loras is kind, and he’s not stupid, but I don’t feel that he’s anywhere near as convincing as I am, and there’s no room for mistakes. I can convince Robb Stark, especially with Sansa’s help. We need unity,” I said, exhaling strongly and reaching for my cup. Gods, this entire war was miserable. At the very least, this wine was quite good.

Tywin raised both eyebrows at me, huffing out and standing up. This suggestion had made him quite upset, it seemed.

“If I think there’s a possibility that Robb Stark would harm, kill, or take Loras captive, why in the gods' names would I let you go? I will not risk your life, (Y/N), let alone your safety. Let me be very clear about that,” he said vehemently, gazing down at me with complete seriousness. I rose from my chair as well, taking a deep breath.

I went around the desk, reaching out to him. He took my hands in his when I offered them, looking down at the sight. I kept my eyes on his face, however.

“I will be safe, Tywin, I promise. I wouldn’t do it, or even have suggested it, if I thought it might be dangerous for me,” I told him, squeezing both of his palms. He lifted his head, holding my gaze with the utmost concern and care. He shook his head.

“Well I think it’s dangerous. You’re not going, (Y/N). I won’t- I won’t lose you. I can’t,” he whispered, looking away. I let go of his hand and reached for his face instead, turning it back toward me.

“I’ll take Ser Elias with me, and Loras will have guards for him and Sansa. All will be well, Tywin. You won’t lose me, hm? I’ll help to restore a fragile peace to the seven kingdoms, minus Stannis, and then I will return home to you.” I brushed my thumb against Tywin’s cheek, and he leaned into my palm. His stubble scratched against me, and for some reason it made me want to cry.

“I hate feeling like I cannot protect you,” he mumbled, closing his eyes so he would not have to look at me.

“I can protect myself, Tywin. You know that. If not with my sword then certainly with my tongue.”

Both of the Great Lion’s hands suddenly came to my face, and there was a deep sadness in his eyes as he cupped my cheeks.

“I will tell Walder Frey to call off the wedding. I’ll inform him I have other plans in place,” he said, sighing out. I gave him a gentle smile, knowing that he did not want to feel anxious for my well being.

“Thank you, Tywin. You won’t regret it, I promise you that.”

He looked at me thoughtfully and nodded, releasing one of his hands from my face and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as he spoke. “I know I told you that I wished for you to fight alongside me should we ever face conflict again, but I don’t know how I’d do it. I’d fear for your safety the whole time.”

“Just as I would fear for yours, Tywin,” I whispered in reply, placing my own hand on top of his and keeping it against my cheek.

We stared at each other, and—in an odd passion—I felt just as I had at the inn: like I wanted to kiss him.

My cheeks flushed, and my breath quickened. Letting go of his hand, I looked away. I would never kiss Tywin, we were merely friends. It was simply a tender moment and his face was close to mine. That was all there was to it.

—————

“Ah, family. I’ve been looking for all of you. I suppose I should’ve checked here first.”

Margaery, Loras, and my grandmother were all in the garden attempting to distract themselves. My grandmother and sister were snacking on whatever the servants had brought, but Loras could not seem to touch it.

He’d been trying quite hard to come to terms with marrying Cersei; it had been difficult for all of us.

“(Y/N), come sit with us. Have you had breakfast yet? Ser Elias said you were up early today,” Margaery said, looking up from her plate and motioning to the chair beside my grandmother.

“No, not yet. I had something to attend to this morning, it’s why I’ve been looking for all of you. I have news,” I explained, sitting down at the table and instantly reaching over for some fruit, cheese, and bread. It was cold now, but I felt so victorious that it was no real loss.

“Oh? Go on then, spit it out,” my grandmother said, leaning back in her chair and taking a sip of wine. I might’ve told her it was early, but I supposed at her age it made little difference. Plus, I had been drinking too.

“I spoke with Tyw- Lord Tywin this morning. We had a rather lengthy conversation, and though he was quite stubborn about it, I managed to convince him against Loras’ betrothal to Cersei,” I informed them, watching Loras instantly look up with disbelief.

“Truly? You’re not joking?” He questioned, wondering if it was perhaps too good to be true.

“Yes, truly.”

He was smiling brighter than the sun now, and so was Margaery as she leaned toward Loras and placed a hand on his shoulder. My grandmother, however, was giving me a rather suspicious look.

“And how is it that you managed to convince him?” she inquired, folding her hands together in a somewhat menacing way. I raised an eyebrow. Why was she so wary?

“Well, it’s quite simple, really. A large focus of the conversation was that our alliance is quite stable, and I helped him come to the conclusion that—because of that stability—there’s no reason to marry Loras and Cersei. He’s better off marrying her to someone else,” I answered, shrugging because I found it to be rather straightforward.

“I see,” my grandmother said curtly, reaching for her cup as a natural way to end her sentence. I merely ignored it, knowing that she was prone to all sorts of moods and opinions. If she wanted me to know what she was thinking, I’d find out.

“But, it’s not only that... I have also convinced the Lord Hand to let your betrothal to Sansa Stark continue,” I revealed with a smile, watching my brother’s face light up once again.

“How on earth did he agree to that?” Loras asked, laughing a bit as he did. He appeared to be utterly giddy over knowing that things were all going to plan again. Margaery had turned to my grandmother, giving her an odd look.

“Well, he settled after I told him that, of whatever children you and Sansa have, one of them will marry a child of Tyrion Lannister. It’s all quite far in the future, but that is the current arrangement,” I said, to which he nodded with understanding. Hypotheticals were easy to accept, it seemed. I prayed that the deal would work out properly, because I did want to keep my word to Tywin.

“I see. Well, I thank you nonetheless, (Y/N). Gods’ know I’d much rather marry Sansa than Cersei,” Loras muttered, making my grandmother huff out a laugh. None of us preferred Cersei to Sansa Stark in any capacity.

“Of course. If you have to marry a woman, I’d rather it be a sweet girl like Sansa. Plus, she could certainly use a break from King’s Landing. And, speaking of which, I’m afraid there’s one other reason that Lord Tywin feels alright with this match…” I trailed off, watching all of my family members raise their eyebrows in some capacity.

“It seems… it seems that an opportunity to make peace with Robb Stark may have appeared, and your wedding to Sansa may be exactly what we need in order to do so. Once- Once the wedding is over, the idea would be for the two of you, along with me, to confront the Young Wolf. With some diplomatic convincing, I hope to end the war and help the Starks retake Winterfell,” I explained to them, anxiously awaiting their responses.

There was silence for a moment, and Margaery was still staring at our grandmother. Loras seemed to be processing the idea in his own head, but it was not his permission that I needed, especially because I knew he really wouldn’t mind it.

“And you’re certain it would be safe to confront Robb Stark that way? Just the three of you?” my grandmother questioned, finally looking over at me. I instantly nodded at her.

“It wouldn’t just be the three of us, Ser Elias and a few trusted guards would come as well, but the idea is to seem open. To bring a large group to his camp would cause conflict, whereas a small group would only cause questioning. I believe that Sansa has enough affection for Loras—and for the rest of our family—to help our cause. On top of Robb’s honor, Sansa’s wishes would likely protect us from any harm.” I popped a grape into my mouth, crushing it against the roof of my mouth with my tongue. I was partly hoping that if I relied on those two things enough, it would become reality.

In all honesty, I had no clue if I would be safe. I had promised Tywin—and was now telling my grandmother—that I would, but men were unpredictable. Some less than others, yes, but this was a risk. I could see on Loras’ face that he knew it too.

“And what if they don’t kill you but instead take you captive? They’d be taking two bargaining pieces and then we would have none,” my grandmother pointed out, scoffing at me and shaking her head.

“Do you think I don’t know that already? Grandmother, I’m well aware of the fact that this certainly could go wrong in quite a lot of ways, but it is a risk that I feel comfortable taking. Robb Stark, at this point, is really only fighting this war for his sisters. Why keep fighting when he has them back? My point is, I don’t think he’s got any reason to want to take Loras and I captive. But, if you’re still anxious about it, I’m willing to take Sansa by myself.”

Loras shot up from his chair, shaking his head at me.

“I’m not letting you go alone, (Y/N). Either I go with you or the whole thing’s called off,” he said, making my grandmother sigh out. She promptly spoke up about her opinion on the subject.

“Loras, you are the heir to Highgarden, I’m not going to have you go with your sister and-”

“So just because I’m the heir it means that somehow my safety is more important than (Y/N)’s? No, that’s ridiculous, Grandmother. I’m going with her.”

“I’m not saying that your safety is more important, I’m saying that you’re more at risk because the Stark’s will see your position as something valuable. I’d rather neither of you go at all, but if you must then I’d like to minimize the risk of it,” my grandmother explained, making Loras scoff and look away from her. I rose from my seat, going over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“She’s not entirely wrong, Loras. It might… it might make more sense for me to go alone with Sansa,” I whispered, seeing on his face that he was still upset about it.

“No. How are the Starks supposed to trust us, or even trust my marriage to Sansa, if I’m not there with you? I have to be there, (Y/N),” Loras reasoned, turning to my grandmother with a sort of pleading look. It was really up to her more than anyone else.

There was silence for a moment as she contemplated it, but eventually she sighed and relented with a nod of her head. Loras let out the breath he’d been holding and then turned his gaze back to me.

“Thank you, (Y/N). Thank you for convincing Lord Tywin to alter the plans, it means quite a lot to me. I’m certain it’ll mean plenty to Sansa as well. I’ll go tell her right now,” my brother said, pulling me into his arms and giving me a genuine hug. I smiled, wrapping my arms around him and squeezing gently.

“Of course. Tell Sansa about the wedding plans, and mention the idea of making peace with Robb. Tell her that, ideally, the two of you would go with Robb to rebuild Winterfell, and then eventually return to Highgarden,” I told him, pulling away and tucking a few curls behind his ear. He nodded, kissing my cheek before turning and leaving the garden.

I watched him go, and when I eventually turned around, I found both Margaery and my grandmother staring directly at me. There was a somewhat quizzical look on their faces, and it made me anxious. Why in the seven hells were they thinking about?

“What?” I questioned warily, sitting back down in my chair.

“Grandmother and I are just… well, just a bit uncertain of how exactly you managed to change Lord Tywin’s mind so easily,” Margaery noted, blinking several times as she did. Both her and my grandmother almost looked… well, suspicious.

“Well, as I said, Lord Tywin and I had quite the conversation-”

“Yes, I heard. However, he and I had quite the conversation as well, and so I am attempting to figure out how—even after backing me into a corner—he listened to you,” my grandmother said accusingly. I watched Margaery attempt to cover her smile with a hand, much to my confusion.

“He respects me, grandmother. I believe I’ve earned it after spending so much time around him. Plus, I gave my solutions quite a lot of thought. Every question he asked I had a good answer for,” I reasoned, almost a little annoyed by the fact that they were in disbelief. Did they think I lacked the ability to be convincing?

The two women before me turned to look at each other, and both of them started to smile. I was utterly bewildered as to what was happening.

“I hope you will forgive me saying this, my dear, but I’m beginning to think Lord Tywin feels a lot more than just respect for you,” my grandmother continued, to which Margaery began to laugh. I sighed, finally understanding what they were insinuating and giggling about.

“Oh please, Grandmother. Lord Tywin and I are merely friends, that is all. And even that may be a stretch, he still makes me angry quite frequently. Your insinuations are not as realistic as you believe them to be,” I said, though partially lying. I reached for the cup Loras had left behind and took a sip of his wine. I had not even realized it was his cup for a moment, and I had been expecting water, but somehow found that the wine was reassuring all the same. Gods, I was having quite the morning.

“Yes, and that is why the two of you are always going out and disappearing overnight. Don’t think I’m unaware, (Y/N). Not only that, but for nearly a week now you’ve visited the Tower of the Hand at least once a day,” my grandmother pointed out, making me shake my head vehemently. Had she gone utterly insane?

“Please, think logically. I’ve hated Lord Tywin for 11 years now, what makes you think that all of a sudden there are romantic feelings between the two of us? If not enemies, the most that we’ll ever be is friends, I promise you that,” I said firmly, trying to get that idea through her head.

“I think sometimes it is easier to hate someone than to admit that you’re attracted to them. Though, I would like to note that I said nothing of romance, I am merely suggesting that the two of you are sleeping together. You are the one bringing romance into it,” she teased, giving me that grin which insinuated she’d won in this discussion. Heat came to my cheeks, and I sputtered out with shock.

“G-Grandmother! I- I can assure you that Lord Tywin and I are most certainly not doing anything even remotely close to that. I have no attraction to him, none whatsoever!”

“If you’re bedding Lord Tywin, (Y/N), there’s no need to shy away from it. You know neither your sister nor I would care. Well, we might judge your taste a little bit, but that’s all,” she said, laughing. Margaery joined her, and my entire face turned unbelievably hot. To me the thought was utterly unfathomable; I couldn’t understand why they were laughing about it.

“I assure you, I am not bedding Ty- Lord Tywin, and I don’t intend to. Ever,” I told them, trying to defend myself. They only laughed more.

“Of course, sister. That’s why your dresses become more revealing each day. I find myself wondering if you’re stealing from my closet. Not to mention, you seem to have a new affinity for patterns with red roses.” Margaery joined in on the assault, and I sighed out of utter exhaustion. This family would be the death of me.

“That’s complete nonsense. I’ll say it now, and I’m not going to repeat myself: the relationship I have with Lord Tywin is nothing but an alliance and friendship. He is older than Father, and only 6 years younger than you, Grandmother. To insinuate that I am bedding him is insane,” I reasoned, raising an eyebrow at the Queen of Thorns. She smiled and reached for my hand.

“I am aware, my dear, we discussed it yesterday. It’s nothing unusual, plenty of men marry and sleep with women much younger than themselves,” she said, leaning forward as she usually would while making a point.

“Well not Lord Tywin.”

“(Y/N), from what I’ve heard, the Lord Hand smiles quite easily around you. Tywin Lannister never smiles. The last person he was known to smile around was his late wife,” Margaery mentioned, giggling as she did.

“This was not the reaction I had hoped for when I revealed that I’d convinced Lord Tywin to reconsider Loras’ marriage,” I grumbled, rubbing my forehead with slight annoyance. I refused to even think about what they were saying, for it was not possible in any capacity.

“(Y/N), I’m not asking you to admit it, perhaps just consider it for yourself. You may not be bedding Lord Tywin, or engaged in any sort of romantic relationship with him, but you do have such feelings for him, don’t you?” my grandmother asked, smiling wickedly.

I scoffed at her then, confident that she was wrong. Later that night, however, I’d have to consider her words. I’d noticed small things, like butterflies in my stomach when Tywin and I touched, or heat in my face when he complimented me. I smiled at the set of armor sitting in my room every day, and at the Valyrian steel blades in my chest. And I had to admit, I was beginning to grow fond of the color red, for it reminded me of him.

But to me, that was all normal. Why shouldn’t a friend make me happy and make me feel cared for? Tywin and I simply got along well; we fit together. Yes, I had wanted to kiss him before, but that had been during very tender moments. It was not as if I was sitting around daydreaming about kissing him.

So surely that was not love, right? It couldn’t be. I supposed I’d never exactly considered myself to be in love with anyone before, so I had nothing to compare it to, but wouldn’t it be the sort of thing that was abundantly clear to me?

Well, it mattered very little. I could not feel love for Tywin Lannister, let alone romantic affection. To be with a man like that would most assuredly be the most painful thing I could possibly do to myself. He was a horrible person who had done horrible things, and because of that I had hated him for nearly half of my life.

Plus, he was only a few years younger than my grandmother, and he’d probably never even considered me romantically because of that. Right?

No. To love Tywin Lannister romantically was out of the question. I could crave the sight of his eyes and his smile, and I could crave the sound of his voice and his laugh, but I could not love him. It was not a thought that I intended to entertain.

I was afraid of what doing so might unleash in me.

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#tywin lannister #tywin lannister x reader #charles dance #tywin lannister fanfic #cersei lannister #a lion in the garden

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sourholland · 1 year

Text

based off the taylor swift song style

a/n → hopefully all of you who saw the teaser enjoyed! to any of you who did not, i’m sincerely sorry for the few weeks i was not active on tumblr. i needed some time to myself and my own mental health. i hope you can understand. ALSO—again, a lot of you who requested to be on the taglist did not have it turned on to where i could tag you. feedback is heavily appreciated, especially if you are on my taglist for this fic (it’s long)!!!

summary → he’s the quarterback of the cincinnati bengals, a worldwide heartthrob with an ego the size of lake erie—but does he have the heart to match it? you’re the bengals newest cheerleader, desperate to prove how much you deserve your spot on the team. it doesn’t take much to catch the eye of joe burrow, however that isn’t necessarily a good thing when you’re told that any romantic relations between cheerleaders and players is strictly prohibited.

warnings → strong language, mention of surgery, heavily suggestive - nsfw

word count → 3.2k

remember to reblog and leave a comment if you enjoy!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter 3

The cheer squad stood in front of the large tunnel the players would emerge from for their first preseason game against the Arizona Cardinals. Having already come out from the tunnel yourselves, you awaited the players now. In two lines that were parallel to the other, each of you was dressed in black spandex and an orange and black bra-top. Pom poms in hand, you tried not to think about that fact that Joe was about to come out that tunnel.

It had been about a week since you’d gone out to the bar together. A part of you felt silly for your reaction, like you’d overreacted a bit. Mostly because you and Joe were in no way exclusive, as well as the fact that you’d been the one to take the chance glancing at his phone. However, you knew why you’d left the way you did—you truly did like him. It was hard to be mad at yourself when you’d only thought he might’ve felt the same way.

He reached out the morning after, only to apologize and say that he understands if you don’t want to continue whatever it was you’d started. With you not responding, he seemed to have taken the hint. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk to him, but more so your pride leaving you to let the text remain on delivered.

“Alright, ladies!” Lily shouted cheerily. “I want to see your biggest smiles, I want to hear your loudest cheers! This may just be preseason, but it’s our first game time appearance of the season.”

Given it was just the preseason, the stadium wasn’t necessarily at max capacity. However, there were still many supporters across the board in orange and black. The voice of the announcer boomed, a large screen showing off this season’s introduction for the Bengals home games.

Through the tunnel came the first half of the team, they wore their white on white uniform this time with the orange helmet. The team was going wild, all of the girls screaming and cheering loudly.

“And here are our offensive starters!” His voice sounded as all of the players had come through the lane you and the other cheerleaders had created for them.

They began to rattle off some of the individual men’s names: Chris Evans, Jacques Patrick, Cordell Volson. It was only when they continued to progress down the list with more and more guys running out that you realized something. You hadn’t seen Joe since that night, which you had regarded as lucky. However, it was incredibly unlikely that in all of the time the team would’ve been preparing for the first preseason game, he’d have been nowhere to be seen the entire time.

Your suspicions were made a reality when they brought out Brandon Allen as the starting quarterback of the game. Not even just this, but Joe was nowhere to be seen. Some of the guys who would start during the regular season were merely with the rest of the team, it wasn’t unusual that they didn’t start during preseason. Joe was completely MIA, though.

Sometime after you finished on the field and stood for the National Anthem, you found yourself unable to stop thinking about the fact that Joe wasn’t at the game. By the time the rest of the squad had taken their sideline spot to start your dance routine, you had to will yourself to focus.

Between dances, you glanced back at the players bench in hopes of realizing you’d simply missed something. It remained the same, though.

“Hey, Lola,” you tried to sound nonchalant during halftime. “Don’t you think it’s weird Joe Burrow is like nowhere to be found.”

“I guess I hadn’t really noticed,” she took a long sip from her Stanley water bottle. “But I mean not really, I heard he went into emergency surgery like a week ago or something.”

“For what,” you nearly gasped. “I mean, that’s awful, do you know what for?”

Lola looked a bit surprised at your sudden care and consideration for the guy. She brushed it off nonetheless. He was attractive as hell and any girl would’ve had a little bit of a crush on him.

“I think his appendix burst,” she told you.

It was no surprise to you that you hadn’t heard, you didn’t watch much ESPN or follow any sports updates on social media. Maybe if you hadn’t decided to completely ghost Joe, you’d have known he’s been in the hospital.

The remainder of the game was pretty much a shit show, the Bengals lost, and even though it was only preseason, it still wasn’t a great way to start off. Guilt overwhelmed you, making it hard to focus on the routines you played key parts in. It was almost like you weren’t in your right headspace at all. All over a fucking boy. Suddenly, you were sixteen and caught up on a guy again. At least that’s how it felt.

As soon as you got into the locker room, your coaches began to ream every girl. Nobody was completely invested. Maybe it was the fact that it wasn’t a proper game, or maybe it was just the blistering heat that had you all making simple mistakes.

By the time you’d gotten to rubbing off the heavy makeup and tying your hair back, the locker room had almost cleared out. You slipped out of your uniform, getting under the hot water of the shower and trying to expel any of the last few hours from your mind.

A pair of athletic shorts and tank top later and you were heading back out to your car with your cheer bag in hand. Only then did you decide to bite the bullet and swallow your pride.

The phone rang once before he picked up.

“Y/N?” Joe’s voice came through the speaker that had now connected to CarPlay.

“Hey, Joe,” you said meekly. “Are you okay? I only heard about your surgery today and I was just wanting to call and see if you were okay—or I mean, if you need anything.”

He breathed out a laugh, you could practically hear his shit-eating grin through the phone. Your face was hot with embarrassment, heart beating a mile a minute as you sat in the driver seat of your car.

“Seems like it’s you missing me now,” he teased you.

“Hardly,” you couldn’t help smiling. “But seriously, Joe. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, yeah. Recovering from surgery at home this past week. Next week I’m cleared to start throwing around the football again, I’m just hoping to be all set to play for the start of the season next month.”

There was a silence, both of you just sort of waiting for the other to say something. He so desperately wanted to believe that this was you expressing that you weren’t totally washing your hands of him. You just wanted to know that he still wished to hear from you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he finally said. “For the way stuff went down last week.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Joe. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I guess I was just kind of upset over—”

“No, this is on me. I know you probably don’t believe it, but I’m really not the type of guy to get around like that. She was honestly just someone who I’d been on a few dates with, it was absolutely nothing serious. Every now and again she hits me up wanting to fuck, I haven’t even seen her since like March.”

He was right. You really didn’t believe that, but there was also a part of you that wanted to protect your peace. He was making an effort at least. Or maybe you were just naive to the reality of the situation. Whichever it was, you found yourself cursing Joe Burrow and his fucking charm.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, Joe. I get it.”

“Well, I mean now that all that’s sorted, I am kind of feeling a little weak. Maybe you could come over and give me a sponge—”

“Joe!” You laughed.

He was also laughing, cheeks beginning to ache from smiling the entire phone call. You were beyond flustered, rolling your eyes at his boyish comment about you bathing him. He was definitely flushed, wanting to continue to make you laugh.

“Do you want to come over?” He asked, laughter dying down.

There was an internal debate going on in your mind, to say yes would just put you back at square one. To say no, well then you’d just be pissed off at yourself for not taking him up on his offer.

“Sure,” you agreed. “Yeah, sure. I’ll come over.”

He excitedly told you that he’d text you his address, to which you responded wearily about how you look like you’d just fought in a war. He only said that he didn’t mind, you did mind, though. At least you’d been able to thoroughly shower and wash all of the foundation and body glitter away with the loss of the game.

The drive from the stadium to Columbia-Tusculum, Joe’s street, wasn’t bad. Pulling into his driveway, you were almost surprised that he didn’t sport some huge home with at least ten empty rooms with nobody to fill them. Instead, you found yourself staring up at his nice, townhouse looking space. Parking outside of one of the two garages, you could see his Porsche through the tinted glass of the garage door.

Suddenly, you felt a bit self conscious of the simple shorts and align tank top you were wearing. It was late and dark, there were a set of steps up to Joe’s porch that you started up. He must’ve heard your car pull in because as soon as you approached the front door, it swung open to reveal Joe dressed in black sweatpants and a grey Bengals hoodie.

“You found the place alright?” He asked, red cheeks illuminated from the light inside of the house.

“GPS found the house just fine,” you laughed, letting him pull you into the entry way.

There was a mud room to the right of you, filled with all of his sneakers and cleats in concise rows. He had some jackets hung up on the hooks and a few pictures on the walls of himself and his family.

“This is you?” You asked, staring at the picture of a small boy in his flag football uniform.

“Yeah,” he chuckled.

Slipping off your sneakers, you felt a draft in the house that sent goosebumps up your arms. You had a sweatshirt in the car, but since you’d just gotten inside, you didn’t want to already start coming in and out.

“You look oddly energetic for someone who just had surgery,” you noticed.

“I feel a lot better, I’ve lost a good amount of weight since the surgery, though. Plus when they cut into me, I was bound to lose some core muscle, it’ll all have to be built back up.”

He lifted up his sweatshirt, your eyes immediately going to the waistband of his briefs that sat snug on his hips. He pulled both his briefs and sweats down slightly, leaving you with the sight of his toned stomach and V-line. On his right side, close to his hip was a stitched incision.

“It’s healing, at least,” you said, pulling your gaze from his middle and finding his eyes once more. “That counts for something.”

Joe took you around the downstairs of his house, showing you around a bit and commenting on things like pictures to a few of the plaques he’d earned that now adorned his walls. He rambled on and on about growing up playing football, asking you if you’d had a similar experience in your sport.

He kind of reminded you of those guys who always end up scrolling through their entire camera roll and showing you pictures from each part of their life. It was cute, though. He seemed thoughtful and interested in what you responded and how you resonated with his passions.

“We could watch a movie,” he suggested as you came into the living room.

“Sounds good to me,” you chuckled, taking a spot on the end of the coach.

Joe sat down in the center, not wanting to press you in the slightest. He had a neatly folded stack of blankets on the loveseat, but you felt awkward asking him for one. The shorts and align tank was simply not doing it, though. As Roku City lit up the screen, you pulled your knees to your chest and tucked your arms in. Joe looked over and rolled his eyes teasingly, assuming you were just too prideful to say you’re cold.

Without saying a word, Joe removed his hoodie and threw it at you. He was left in a simple black T-shirt, snickering and picking the remote back up. He watched as you tried to protest, but pulled the large hoodie over top of your head nonetheless. His being 6’4 allowed for it to hang a lot lower on you than usual, bunching at the wrists and acting as mittens.

“Rocky?” He asked, how predictable of him.

“A classic,” you grinned. “Could never say no to Rocky.”

Joe felt himself growing hard underneath his sweatpants at the sight of you in his sweatshirt, curled up on his couch. He couldn’t help but watch as you tied your hair up, leaning back watching the screen. His eyes fell to your bare legs, thinking about how he’d fucked you in the back of his car.

“What?” You laughed softly, catching him staring at you.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, looking back to the screen. “Do you want a blanket?”

Finally, you thought. As you shifted over a bit to grab the blanket he’d gotten, you felt yourself nearing his side and wondered if he minded if you sat beside him. He was warm, his eyes trained on the TV as he handed it to you.

When you didn’t move back to your original spot, Joe internally thanked God. He watched as you unfolded the fluffy white throw, staring at it in contemplation and offering a part of it to him to share. He nodded in response, face flushed as you moved into his side. You both were right beside each other now, sharing the same blanket.

“I’m glad you called me,” Joe whispered to you, as if it was a secret.

“Me too,” you yawned. “I just had to see if you were okay, I mean when I didn’t see you at the game I got worried.”

Joe draped an arm over your shoulder, making you lean into him a little farther. It wasn’t long before he heard your steady, even breaths. He saw your eyes had fluttered shut, legs curled up next to his. He clicked the power button on the remote and decided to shift the both of you to be fully laying on the couch rather than off of it.

Grabbing a throw pillow, Joe stuck it behind his head and felt you settle in beside him. Both of you were sprawled out down the couch, your legs askew and wrapped up in his. He closed his eyes as you nestled in further and couldn’t help letting himself rest.

When you woke up, Joe was gone and you were drooling all over his couch cushion. He’d covered you in another blanket before he left you, making it hard for you to even will yourself up.

You truly hadn’t meant to stay the night, you planned to come over and see him and leave to go home. You’d woken up earlier than usual for game day and you were exhausted by the time you’d gotten to his house, it was no surprise that you fell asleep soon after.

“Fuck,” you yawned, grabbing your phone off the side table.

Sydney: BITCH

Sydney: Why the fuck does Life360 say you’re in Columbia-Tusculum???!!!!

Sydney: DICK APPOINTMENT!?!?

Choosing to ignore that, you answered a text from your mom and stretched for a second before standing up and deciding you should try and find Joe. It didn’t take much, following the loud booming speaker to his workout room.

He wore basketball shorts and a muscle shirt, only doing very simple stretches that would not strain his body or agitate his healing process. He’d done some walking on the treadmill, staying hydrated and active even from home.

“Hey,” you came into the doorway. “I’m really sorry I fell asleep last night, I didn’t mean—”

“Y/N,” he laughed. “I enjoyed last night too much to let you apologize for it. So stop, I’m not sorry and neither should you be. Did you know you drool? When you sleep, I mean.”

So fucking embarrassing, you thought.

Joe offered to make you breakfast, to which you politely declined. He showed you to the bathroom, where he gave you a spare toothbrush. He was more than inviting, but a part of you still felt like you’d overstayed. He sat on top of the island in the kitchen, looking at you as you leaned against a countertop.

“You don’t have to go, you know?” He told you with a grin. “I’m not even allowed to go sit in on practices until tomorrow.”

“I do,” you gave him a look.

Joe sighed defeatedly like a child, pushing himself off the island and wincing a bit. There was no point in arguing with you. He only enjoyed your company, though. For some reason he liked the way you described things, the way you always listened when someone else was telling you about something. He realized that it didn’t matter if you had no clue in the world about the subject matter, talking to you was like discussing it with your best friend.

“Can I at least walk you out to your car?” He asked you, cocking his head to the side and using the pad of his thumb to brush an eyelash off your cheek.

“Yes,” you answered.

He led the way out, letting you slip your shoes on in the mud room once again. He only put on a pair of slides, unlocking and opening the front door to let you both out onto the front porch. Joe motioned your forward, shutting it behind him and laying a hand on the small of your back without even thinking.

As you unlocked your car, you felt him trail close behind and you both stopped at the driver side door. The proximity between the two of you had closed a considerable amount, he was standing in front of you and casting a look downwards to meet your gaze.

“Thank you for letting me stay over, Joe.”

He leaned in and pressed a chaste, but sweet kiss to your lips. His own cheeks had been shaded a nice pink color as he smiled into the brush of your lips. He held your car door open for you and watched as you got inside.

“I’ll see you soon, Y/N,” he tells you with that famous smile, running a hand through his already messy hair.

“Bye, Joe.”

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melrosing · 5 months

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MATE I have a feeling I am so late to this but what happened to your job!

lmao! so much! but I don’t have it anymore! ok you didn’t ask for the full story lmao but im always in the mood for venting lately so the full tale under the cut on What Happened With My Job

so without getting into detail they have been absolute asses all year!! like with each other the women in my team are like Bosom Pals but apart from a handful of pleasant people they just have no time for me lol it’s very cliquey??

anyway. we had some really difficult clients in the Spring who were ready to throw in the towel at every stage of our work process bc it was unfamiliar territory for them. I was leading the project but really struggling to meet their insane expectations like it was HUNDREDS of emails a day from like 8AM to 8PM and their ‘head of’ sometimes swearing at me on calls with a dozen other people and thinking I can work magic and get [MAJOR CELEBRITY] involved in a thing for them when objectively I can’t and just scream. anyway my directors get really uneasy because this is a big client and they don’t want them getting scared off so when the client starts reaching a crescendo of frustration they fully just scapegoat me right at the end of the campaign (at which point our results are great! lmao) and say it will be Dealt With

around the same time I start to realise that the business is failing and my ‘specialist position’ is typically the first kind to go and that COINCIDENTALLY they are on my ass day after day trying to insist im not meeting their ‘standards’ and genuinely making up the most insane reasons why not (like I know I’d be biased saying this but SERIOUSLY) so im like ohhh right. I see where this is going

THEN my dad gets goddamn incurable brain cancer and my whole life falls apart. and they suddenly have to be like ‘oh no. I am sorry this has happened. oh dear.’ I’m off two weeks having a complete mental breakdown until im kindly reminded that cough I’ve almost used up my statutory days of compassionate leave! but per company guidelines they do have to manage my workload whilst i er. struggle indefinitely w the emotional burden?? so my capacity is thus reduced and man you can tell they’re not thrilled about it

so they basically check in every Friday for a month saying ‘hope everything is ok can you take on more work yet’ CONSPICUOUSLY never asking how anything is going with dad (like when I first logged back in I had a catch up with my line manager and kind of tremulously started talking about what had happened and she literally said ‘it’s ok you don’t need to tell me the details’)

THEN I get GASTROENTERITIS 💃🏻 god knows how. but it’s a bad one and I physically can’t eat for a week man I eat like a banana a day and even that makes me sick lol. but whatever the first day I phone in and tell my director im not well. she’s like ‘WELL I ACTUALLY HAVE SO MUCH TO MANAGE RIGHT NOW SO THIS REALLY ISN’T HELPFUL LIKE I GET YOU CAN’T HELP BEING SICK BUT I REALLY NEED TO BE ABLE TO RELY ON MY TEAM TO SUPPORT COS WE HAVE A LOT COMING UP’ (I’m not even kidding)

so on the third day I log back in bc I feel like I need to just push through it but oh no im still vomiting my guts out so I message the same director ‘look I think maybe. I am still sick’ and she says NOTHING in response till I suddenly get a text from my LINE MANAGER saying ‘Hi. X says you say you still don’t feel well. We understand it’s food poisoning. That usually only lasts 24 hours’. LIKE??? apparently with all the compassionate leave I’d had to take, the sick leave was just too much for them to bear lmao so i got myself a goddamn doctor’s note and have to announce every day for the rest of that week ‘I’m still not well sorry’ (they never ever reply)

Then finally I recover and I log back in and my director doesn’t ask me how I am or anything literally just says ‘WELL let’s get straight to business’ and explains the status of everything at me for 20 mins going on about how stressful it all is.

And then an hour later I get a surprise call from my head of department telling me unforch they’re making me redundant. can’t be helped. understand this is a bad time for you personally. (said head of department has never addressed what bad thing is happening personally rn). and im in shock. till i figure that what with my dad this is probably an appalling time to make up some performance based reason to fire me so this was their only option

and then finally I see the paperwork and realise severance pay is a third of my annual salary. so i promptly get over it, log out halfway through the month whilst still being paid for my time till the end of it, and NOT ONE of those fuckers has even reached out to say goodbye in all that time but god knows I never want to hear from them again so?? fuck it! i told HR everything anyway I was like look I don’t want to take formal action but?? I think you should know.

and now im just gonna chill for Christmas w my dad and my fam and my pals and my cats and do my weird asoiaf shit on tumblr I guess lol. so there we go that’s what happened!!!!

tl;dr got made redundant lol

#ask #sorry I think this really does have to be the last time I whine about my job on my goddamn Jaime blog #I mean I don’t even have the job anymore so #but yeah. fuck corporate jobs man. I’ll probably get another one soon enough but that company I am done with forever

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pokedext · 1 year

Text

Toxic positivity is real. I feel like I’m seeing more as a lot of ppl forget friendships are a two way street. Like sometimes your self care is leaning too heavy into selfish and address that. Feels like so many young ppl want life to just be good vibes and no rain. A good friendship has support and jokes. It doesn’t mean drain yourself. But legit had a person go off about needing a warning for injections. I’m thinking okay you asked and I answered… I’ll humor this situation it’s not that bad. Deleted the comment and amended to not mention it ever again without a warning. Regretted it because they proceeded to go off how my whole hospital stuff is uncomfortable. I set off on them at that point. Im sorry you asked about it you can’t be mad. Sorry the answer was a surprise life is not just a trigger warning in advance. That’s just not possible for everything. I have no idea what will set someone off. I promise it was more trauma to go to the hospital then you having to hear about it. All I said is I went to the hospital for my spinal pain cause I had cardiac issues/paralysis. It is scary but it’s just a sentence. This person has never had to deal with anything like that and it’s offensive they feel their comfort should be a consideration for something they asked about. Like just be a supportive person. Just feel compassion or something that I lived that instead of talk about the thought of it bothering your mental health. I didn’t ask you for therapy on it I have a therapist/pysch for it. Where do you think my mental health was? Fuck these type of ppl. Your self care/toxic positivity are blinders for easy living. But the friends I appreciate most we give equal support/listen when we can, and don’t start this kind crap with each other. If they are that emotionally bothered they could have made it come across a lot less callous then they did. I didn’t bring it up. Why am I punished for answering and the answer being uncomfortable. Like mentally address life might have some uncomfortable conversations. I didn’t need help, I just answered a question grow a spine and a heart. Im just depressed enough as it is I try to just vent to the void/therapist/pysch/chronic pain groups because this type of thinking is common unfortunately. I also do understand it’s a lot to process. But I didn’t get too much into the grit of it. Ppl just don’t want to think about problems outside their own these days. It’s fucking toxic. I think I need to rearrange my friendships. I have friends I love hanging out with. Got a friend we pick a place to eat and do vent sessions. We get along great. Have fun too. Idk where to find ppl. The ppl I have that are great like that for support are like 30+ years. Is it just young ppl that don’t have the emotional capacity to be adults with other adults? Do I need to limit the amount of young ppl I hang around with the uptrend of this self focus culture. Am I wrong? Am I overacting? Do I have shitty friends?

#long post #vent

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totally-sapphic-posts · 5 months

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I'm sorry maybe this isn't gonna be entertaining. Can I have an advice? I met this person online, we chat sometimes mostly in groups but this time I adventure to chat one on one a little more. Days goes by and we talk a little more, nothing serious, just two strangers sharing thoughts. one day she had a problem and said I was the only one talking with her and she needed to let that out,we talked, she calmed down, we were fine. Since then we started talking a little more and more, about our day, jobs, family, share videos, say gm and gn. She had all my attention and I think I had hers. Until one day I said gm and there were no answer until hours later, strange, I ask later if she was busy and her answer was no. Days go by and we talked less, hours went by without answer, no gm texts, nothing about her day, after a couple weeks I ask her if something happened, I feel her distance, she said no, it's that sometimes she needs attention and sometimes she fixated in other thing but that I don't have nothing to worry about. But nothing changed, more weeks and more distance, a little worse, I noticed she wasnt sharing anything with me anymore, not her day, thoughs, plans, videos, pictures, we talked everyday but much less and hours apart when it used to be minutes, it was like she forgets my message or she didn't wanna answer me, bc I knew she talk on the group and with others but not me. I approached again and ask if she wanted this, if she didn't want to talk to me I would understand but please tell me. She said yes and no, yes because she felt a connection with me and no bc she wasn't good mentally and didn't want to connect emotionally and she knew she wasn't a good friend rn. I said she hasn't to be perfect but I needed to know that she still care for us, she said yes. I wanted to talk about a way that she felt okay not talking with me if she doesn't want to but letting me know she was okay or at least think about me, she said later. We talked two more days with the same answer after hours, you could tell it was when she didn't have anything else to do or talk with. And then.. we didn't talk for three weeks. We were chatting and I did a comment about something, I answered and she never replied, she didn't even open the chat, until weeks later. This group where we met, I keep my distance from, I don't talk there anymore for various reasons, but she's still there and talk with everyone at any time, actually it appears she had a gf there now. I don't know if I love her like more than a friend, I care deeply for her. I don't know if I'm overreacting or shouldn't feel like trash. I've been months crying waiting for her, wondering what I did wrong. I don't know what to do anymore . I'm sorry this is too long, can someone advise or k*ll me. .?

I’m so sorry this happened to you. If she’s moved on, just know it isn’t your fault. And just because she wasn’t in a good mental space doesn’t mean you can’t be upset about how all of this has made you feel. You didn’t do anything wrong and it sounds like she just didn’t have the capacity at that moment to maintain anything. I can’t say much about her since I don’t know her, but I can say that you don’t need to blame yourself for how things went.

Allow yourself to be sad. Process everything that has happened and how you’re feeling about everything. It’s really important that you process your feelings and allow yourself to feel. Be kind to yourself as you heal, and when you’re ready, move on from her. Because, while she may be struggling mentally, you don’t need to allow her to make you feel bad.

Wishing you the best ❤️

#ask

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spoiltizzy · 2 months

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Aside from Izzy, Ed, and Stede, what, if any, other OFMD characters do you have an interest in seeing gain?

In addition, do you tend to favor certain branches (ik there's def a better word but I am like 3 mins away from bed so my brain is off rn) of feedism over another for particular characters, or do your interests remain fairly steady across the board (ex: prefer to see character A getting hand fed, have a thing for character b burping, seeing stretch marks on C, vs liking to see the same scenarios for a, b, and c)?

I was in the pub when I got this and I’ve been thinking about it but that doesn’t mean my answer is going to be any less rambly than usual sorry haha. I talk about dubcon scenarios in this more than I usually would, so. Just a warning. Um, I did once write sprizzy, but unfortunately at this point I’m sort of more in the Stede, Ed, and Izzy fandom than the OFMD fandom, if that makes any sense. You’d think that I’d be more interested in the heavier characters in OFMD, given my kink, I guess? Or more interested in other characters for other reasons. I mean, Fang has his tummy out all the time, and Roach seems to be quite a passionate chef. But I connected the most with Stede, Ed, and Izzy, and sadly the other characters really just do not scratch my brain, and there are some of them that I actually really dislike, like Ricky and Jack.

Jack, at least, I’d be willing to have horny thoughts about, but the situations I mentally put him in are all sort of demeaning and humiliating towards him. Sometimes worse. Maybe there’s a market for that, haha, idk. I didn’t understand hate sex until I read a CJ fanfic one time. I find him so annoying that I’d do kinky things to him but in a demeaning way, which is weird, because normally this kink is, if not always soft, usually at least sort of loving for me. It’s almost the only time that I have any interest in gaining being used in a genuine humiliation or punishment way, rather than anything of that sort being just roleplay between characters who actually love each other. Even when I think about Izzy being humiliated or feminized in a humiliating way, which is a weird kink of mine but hey, I grew up in a society full of gender roles so I’m allowed to have kinks about shit that’s been a part of my upbringing’s culture, usually I imagine that the people doing that to him have a lot of affection towards him, whereas any cuteness Stede or Ed saw in Jack in the scenarios in my head is in an actually condescending way with no respect for him. In fact the scenario sort of rests on them approaching the exchange with animosity towards him, which probably makes this my most controversial horny fantasy about pirates. Still, just because I find Jack annoying and don’t like him, I doubt I’d ever actually be able to write a fic or draw any art of this scenario or of chubby Jack or any of that. I don’t like the guy, the only satisfaction I get from thinking about him is either in this weird fucked up capacity, OR in a very very specific scenario involving Stede which I’ll get to later, because I think it’s kinda related to the second part of the question.

Given I am mostly only interested in my three favourite pirates, I can only really answer that second part of the question in relation to them, so I hope that’s ok. But yeah, there are different things that I like best for different characters.

I tend to favour Izzy in I guess what you’d describe as more submissive roles. That doesn’t necessarily always mean him being bigger. For example, the idea of a fat Stede and Ed feeding Izzy because their baseline for what he should weigh is thrown off by their own ideas of how big someone should be, given what they’ve done to themselves. Izzy also tends to be the only one who I’d put in more dubcon situations, like… force-feeding (though it’s worth noting I want him to secretly enjoy it) or weird fantasy intox scenarios where he’s being fattened up and might not be fully aware of it. He’s also my favourite pick for being the spoiled pet out of the three. In general, though I adore Izzy, he’s unfortunately the one that I tend to put in the weirdest most demeaning scenarios of the three. I have also been guilty of making him so fucking stupid because I think it’s funny, cute, and sometimes a little hot in the right scenarios. Like, if the crew realises giving Izzy food shuts him up and he has no idea why it’s happening and doesn’t realise he’s getting fat because of it, or, like I said, in weird fantasy intox scenarios where he’s just… not especially aware of what’s happening. He likes it, though. And he’s always very very loved. The only scenario I can imagine Izzy being somewhat akin to dominant in is just under the circumstances in which he’s petting Ed’s hair and saying sweet comforting things to Ed while Ed “some kind of mommy issues probably” Teach nuzzles and mouths and sucks on Izzy’s tits. Um. What can I say, dude, I’m a weirdo.

Ed’s really hot, and though he may not be suave at heart, he’s capable of acting all cool and sexy and stuff, and for some reason that kinda inspires the desire to see him be completely unabashed about his gain more than I want to see that with either of the others. Or even perhaps unaware of it, or at least acting unaware of it. Ed’s the sort of person where I can totally see him always eating whatever the fuck he wants, and then one day his metabolism really starts to slow down but he keeps eating like always and it just doesn’t occur to him that gaining weight is ever on the agenda. Sneaks up on him because he’s never worried about managing his weight in his life, so he’s not prepared for getting a little older and his sweet tooth having consequences all of a sudden. But I don’t think he’d be ashamed when he realised he was getting chubby, or at least he definitely wouldn’t if he realised Stede and Izzy liked it. And because he’s never had any shame about his food choices, he remains shameless about his sweet tooth and his appetite. That’s a specific fantasy I have quite regularly about Ed, but wouldn’t necessarily put to any of the other characters. And this is related to intox more than tummy, but this is my kink blog so I’ll just say whatever I want on it, but I also sort of like the idea of an Ed who somehow still expects his alcohol tolerance to be what it was when he was in his 20s and partying a lot— I imagine this is sort of just Ed lore in every universe, lol, in some context. Even if “partying” was just getting drunk with Jack on pirate versions of shore leave or something. So he might overdo it and then just insist, while tripping over his words a little and hiccuping, that he wasn’t drunk. But not cause he’s lying, just because he genuinely didn’t expect to be drunk already, and he’s a cute silly billy who thinks he isn’t drunk. Ed’s versatile. He can be a good kitty or a sweetheart who deserves to be spoiled or he can be the kraken demanding to be fed more with a gun in his hand. He can be using his appetite and his pudgy belly to fluster Stede or Izzy on purpose, or he can be so unprepared to have gained weight but so unabashed about his cropped tops and appetite he’s doing it accidentally.

Stede’s a funny one because I usually make him slightly more dominant than the others, in a soft way, in my head. Though that is NOT a rule. I will write flustered or submissive Stede or Stede being teased sometimes. I like a lot of things for Stede, I love it when he feeds another character or fattens them up, I love it when he has those desires and he executes them, but obviously mutual gaining is a really big thing for me so I like him to gain and/or be pudgy too. Though I always want Stede a bit chubby, and usually pudgier than he canonically is by a notable amount, I don’t necessarily feel a need for him to be as big as the others, whereas if I were writing a scenario where Ed or Izzy were not as fat as Stede I would want them to catch up or surpass Stede in weight/size. Maybe it’s because I relate more to Stede, but I tend to give him the most feedery role in my head and though I don’t mind the thought of him catching up or matching the others if they were gaining, I don’t have anywhere near as much of a desire to see him surpass the others. Ed or Izzy on the other hand I would love to see surpass the others. I know I’ve just repeated myself but oh well.

Also, though I like it when all of them burp, I have more of a thing for Stede burping. It’s odd because to me it counts as a sort of subversion of expectations that I adore applying to Stede, but it’s hard to explain exactly why. After all, Stede’s not exactly polite. I guess, though, that he doesn’t come across as gross or messy, so the idea of Stede burping aloud, or aloud in front of others, unabashedly, or letting out rather loud/big burps is kinda hot to me BECAUSE Stede… though he’s willing to pick up pickled noses in his bare hands or dig around in the dirt, he doesn’t have gross vibes, or the vibes of a man who would burp aloud.

That’s where that other Jack fantasy comes in, actually. It’s purely this: I think it would be sort of hot, if say, Jack and Ed were drinking beer and trying to one-up each other’s burps, you know, like the frat boys they were, and Stede just. Got fed up of it, and tried to get them to stop by proceeding to burp in such a manner as to win whatever silly burping contest Jack and Ed were up to. Or if Jack and Stede got catty with each other and it somehow lead to some sort of competition like that, and Ed and Stede’s crew were like “wow, ok, didn’t see that coming” about it. Haha.

So yeah, it is rather different for all the characters, and my rules do all tend to have exceptions. But in general, Izzy’s the one I’m most willing to demean, lovingly. Izzy’s not the only one I tend to make stupid or under the influence of something that makes him so so silly and dumb, but I tend to enjoy doing that to him a lot more than the others. I don’t really like Stede to be the biggest one in the endgame but he can be equal to the other(s). Also, this has nothing to do with tummy, but I like Stede to top. I think this is because Stede is sorta my projection character a lot of the time, and I have an unwavering preference for topping. I like the idea of like… force-feeding as roleplay for both Ed and Izzy but not really for Stede. I tend to like my Ed shameless and my Izzy more often full of shame but for horny reasons, though when Stede’s full of shame it’s usually for angsty reasons.

Basically, yeah, I have a set of different preferences depending on the character, but it’s all sort of weird and complicated and full of exceptions and not really following all that many patterns. I mean, it does follow patterns, but… ah, I don’t know.

SORRY for talking this much, have fun tackling this fucking CHUNK of text, lmao. um. oops.

#asks #god this is probably more than you wanted anon #i’m sorry #i should have made this more concise but i got overzealous and went into SOOOOO much detail

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dcbbw · 2 years

Text

Sunday Snippets

Thank you so much for the tag, @katedrakeohd! This week, I actually have SNIPPETS and not just summaries, but only for two fics: my entry for @choicesprompts and a belated birthday fic that is a slice of life/period piece.

Everything is under the cut, and as usual, everything is in a state of rough draft and final product may vary.

A Tale in Three Parts:

“We had an agreement, Madeleine. An agreement you presented to me.”

“An understanding that I would be Queen, NOT publicly dumped and humiliated for a second time!” she seethes.

“You knew I was in love with Riley! You knew that!”

“And you would have had her in all the ways that mattered! Instead, you went back on your word to a faithful member of Court.”

I don’t think I like the emphasis she puts on the word ‘faithful.’

A waitress comes to take our order. We request sandwiches, salads, scotch. This conversation requires something far stronger than coffee.

“You didn’t love me, you merely wanted to be Queen,” I reply carefully.

“BECAUSE IT WAS PROMISED TO ME!” she thunders; the few patrons look at us curiously. I give them an apologetic smile before facing the Countess again.

“It was an arrangement between the Crown and your House, put in place for you and Leo,” I point out.

“One that you agreed to honor once you turned your back on Riley!” she counters acidly.

My jaw tenses at the mention of my biggest mistake, my one regret. My head drops and I train my gaze on the white linen tablecloth.

“I hurt her as well, Countess. Once the wrong against her had been righted, I had to take the chance in hopes her feelings hadn’t changed.”

Madeleine exhales a heavy breath. “We weren’t raised on love, we weren’t taught to love. It’s always been duty, duty, duty. I upheld my end of the bargain twice, and Cordonia repaid me with ashes. ASHES! The promises of the Crown were mere dust between my fingers. And after all that, you still expect me to fulfill a duty to Cordonia.”

“The country needs you. Your leadership, your expertise.”

“Just not as Queen,” she rebukes stubbornly.

She waves her hand dismissively. “Sorry for trading in my patriotism for self-care.” Her chin quivers slightly as she reaches for her glass of water. “I am finally doing what I want, discovering who I am.”

She sips, her green eyes holding mine. “I’m happy now. Away from Court and duties and expectations. I don’t know if I’ll return.”

I nod slowly. She’s correct: Cordonia has disappointed her twice; she’s labeled a crown chaser and bitter failure when it was the Crown who backed away from fulfilling its promise.

“How is Riley?” she asks just as our meal is served.

I sit quietly as plates are slid in front of us, realizing Madeleine doesn’t know. She never returned with us at the end of the Engagement Tour. She never returned at all.

The food looks appetizing, but I reach first for my drink.

“She left Cordonia. I’m engaged to Lady Kiara. The wedding is in a fortnight.”

She physically recoils from Cordonia’s final insult before downing her drink in one swallow.

Philadelphia Freedom

The 13-year-old teenage boy from Pyongyang, North Korea painfully made his way to where the American aircraft would be boarding the last of the US troops to take them away from Korea. He was bloodied, maimed, and facing a certain death sentence if he remained behind; he had already lost his entire family to the brutality of an unnecessarily escalated war.

In his condition, it was just a matter of time before he too was caught. Or died of injuries and/or exposure to the elements.

His breath hitched in pain and disbelief when he reached the South Korean border undetected.

The aircraft carrier was where he had heard it would be, and already crowded to capacity with the remaining Negro troops; soldiers exhausted mentally and physically from three years of battle, bloodshed, and violence and having to prepare for the war at home: more senseless violence, segregation, second-class citizenry, and unemployment.

Multiple pairs of suspicious eyes took in the lanky teenager’s countenance: thin from starvation, normally tan skin now the color of gray ash from dehydration, his lips blue from the extreme cold. His clothes were tattered rags, his feet were bare; the right one was mangled: grotesquely twisted and missing the two middle toes.

“Please,” the boy croaked as he extended his arm, his hand hanging limply from a distended wrist. “I’m colored too,” he pleaded.

Those men saved his life.

America took his identity.

He was given a new name.

He couldn’t be Korean; it was far too soon. The loss of American life in that conflict was high. Too high. He couldn’t be Japanese. The wounds from Pearl Harbor, World War II, and the Japanese interment were still healing. Slowly … so very slowly.

When asked, my husband would tell people he was Chinese. No one questioned it back then.

To white folks, we all looked alike.

Tagging: @jared2612 @ao719 @burnsoslow @marietrinmimi @merridithsmiscellany-blog @queenjilian @indiacater @kingliam2019 @bebepac @liamxs-world @hopelessromanticmonie @mom2000aggie @cmestrella @iaminlovewithtrr @liamrhysstalker2020 @neotericthemis @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet @busywoman @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam @phoenixrising308 @beezm @gardeningourmet @lovingchoices14 @foreverethereal123 @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles @lady-calypso @emkay512 @jovialyouthmusic @21-wishes @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @bbrandy2002 @queenrileyrose @debramcg1106 @alj4890 @yourfavaquarius111 @motorcitymademadame

#dcbbw writes #sunday six #snippets #trr fanfic #trr au fanfic

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monochromeheartbeat · 8 months

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what do you think about the autistic brittany headcanon?

I think this is something that deserves a lot of thought and reflection, and I’m honestly not certain I have the best answer to it. Under the cut cause it gets long:

As an individual, I’ve had a pretty traumatic upbringing — one that at a very young age put me in a very untrusting dynamic with therapy that I won’t get into because it’s sad. And then my relationship with my adoptive mom was strained because she was studying psychology and did that thing you’re not supposed to do, which is to diagnose those close to you. With everything, founded or unfounded, based on a lot of struggles I was navigating balancing this growing up too fast and out of my control with desperately wanting to just be a kid, you know? And the support just. It didn’t exist for me in the way that was what I needed. Which was kindness and gentleness and patience.

So I have a hard time with the idea of head canons in general. I have a personal disdain for when people project their ideas of what they think of me onto me. It’s why I struggle with labels. I’m already a minority in so many ways — an orphan, adopted, mix-raced, Asian-American, 1st generation, unstable home, trauma/abuse, etc, etc. Discovering (through this particular fandom) that I was queer, I was like. Great, another box! (it's honestly okay - great even - now, but I was so afraid of losing what little I had when I realized it)

Don’t get me wrong, I believe mental health is SO important. I think I'm using mental health as an umbrella term here to include just general psychology terms, as I think autism is a learning/social disorder, not necessarily a mental health one. Idk, I'm really lacking in knowledge here. Still, diagnoses help with getting treatment or routines created and can really help improve quality of life. But autism specifically sounds like such a difficult thing to navigate, because autism is one of those diagnoses that can really restrict your personal freedoms because of prejudice against it (like whether or not you can gain citizenship in other countries). So I understand why a lot of people turn to self-diagnosis as an alternative.

But from my experiences with childhood, I am torn between having seen my parental figure diagnose me in an unprofessional capacity (and therefore concerns around self-diagnosis) and professionals harm me with good intentions but lack of care or tact when dealing with a child (thus a personal distrust of therapists that yes, I've worked on somewhat, and yes, I know better to ask for what I need than wait to be told).

The short of it is… I don’t think I’m qualified to tell you if this fictional character is autistic. I don’t know a lot about autism. I love that people identify with their favorite characters, and I think if that’s how you relate to that character, it’s a wonderful and special relationship you have with them. I think if she is autistic, she suffered in the sense that… canonically, Brittany never got the support from adult characters in the show other characters got. No one took her needs seriously. I didn’t really watch the season her parents were introduced (and I won’t get into my feelings about having been raised not being told I was Asian until later in life, the racism I experienced and didn't even understand, and how I feel in regards to the casting of Pierce Pierce), but from what I did watch and remember, her only support was really, truly, Santana.

I love that Santana was her support system. I hate that she didn’t get explored with the depth and care other characters got. I hate that she was the butt of so many jokes. Yet, I loved Hemo for being so good at being so funny anyway. And I don’t know if we have enough information about her to determine if she was or wasn’t autistic. And I’m sorry I’m not more knowledgeable about autism in general. I know that it’s a more common topic of discussion than it was when I was more socially engaged on the internet a decade ago. My coworker talks to me often about his experiences, which is the only true source I have for autism information, but he's a new friend and I'm still learning a lot. But I hope I’ve answered this with as much respect and sensitivity as I can, because I don’t want to perpetuate any harm to a community that experiences a lot of stereotypes and misinformation.

#heebeeasks #anonymous #under the cut

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championofnyx · 8 months

Note

Since you're doing a prompting weekend, how about Brion reuniting with his siblings after the events in Markovia?

So… Life kind of went to hell like, three hours after I posted by Prompt night post and I haven’t had time or mental capacity to circle back around. I’m so sorry that this took over a month to catch up on, accepting some sibling bickering as an apology.

It’s been a few months since they had seen each other, the brothers, whose faces had been plastered on tabloids and drama mongering news outlets the whole time; as if everything that had happened was Shakespeare or a Greek tragedy rather than real people’s lives with real consequences. “I’ll give you two some time to talk,” Perdita walked into the adjacent room, leaving the door open between them but offering some privacy. Neither boy had asked for this meeting, nor did either quite know where to start.

The older moved a fell into one of the two elaborate couches that were framed by even more energetically decorated rooms within the embassy. It took a minute before the younger, still standing, spoke up. “Can we talk?” Brion asked, looking down at his brother.

“What are you gonna do if I say no? Murder someone in broad daylight again?” Gregor pipped back, “Didn’t have your fill the first time.”

“I understand the expression, but it was at night. So, if you are going to make a snide comment, make it accurate.”

“Whoo, fancy words, from a fancy boy.”

“Come on.”

“So fancy, with your uniform and crown, not over the top at all.”

“You wore the same thing, ok? So don’t act like you didn't. “Yeah, but I could pull them off. Hell, it’s almost like I was born for it.”

“Archaitic model that isn’t applicable.”

“Well then, might as well throw out the whole monarchy. That’s a little archaic too, don’t you think?”

The two paused after that last outburst, and looked at eachother. The upheaval of both of their lives over the past months, the past years, had changed those two boys and it took them a minute to recognize the other.

“When the hell did you start acting like this?” Brion finally spoke up, breaking the tension.

“What?” Gregor asked, pulled into the maelstrom of new, unpleasant thoughts. “Oh, you mean like everything I was raised to be, the very purpose for my existence if you listened to our parents, was taken away from me by the person I shared a womb with while I watched thousands of kilometers away in a hotel room? Am I acting like I have no one looking at me anymore? No purpose, nothing going for me?”

The two stared at one another for a moment, “You have a sister.” Brion tried to remind him.

“Yeah, thank you for leaving her to me.”

“Well, that was my job for months, so I thought we could share a little.” “Oh, are you planning on sharing that title too?” The older brother said, standing up. “Everyother weekend and Wednesday? Little shared parenting model.”

“So,” The younger spat out, “we’re finding out exiles aren't fun. Could have told you.”

“This is why mom never loved you.”

“Jesus fucking christ” Perdita pocked her heat through the door both forgot was open still, looking more than a little concerned as she realized this was a mistake. “Could you two like, I don’t know, take it down a peg?”

There is the possibility of a slightly kinder version of this in a fic I'm working on so I wanted to save any sappy dialogue I had thought of for that and instead allow some of my favorite little shits to be unhinged bastard children for a moment, I think they've both deserved it.

#young justice #brion markov #gregor markov

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sbzbrainrot · 11 months

Text

Chapter 4

She had to admit it was efficient. The way he seemed to know exactly what he needed and where to find it, even though it was Robin who had set up and organized this base in the first place. The way his mechanical hands worked in conjunction with his organic ones - one unwrapped the gauze, the other cut it, one uncapped and poured the sterilizing antibiotic all in one go, one was keeping her steady as it pressed up against her upper thigh.

Affected still by the fuzzy feelings Al-an had somehow planted in her head, the dulled feeling of pain and the chemicals dictating her happiness and comfort coursing through her veins, she just laid back with her head back on the pillow. She wasn’t uncomfortable with his proximity to her nude form, but she didn’t know if that was because she was truly okay with the circumstances or if his little trick was the true culprit. It was conflicting, though she didn’t have much mental capacity to entertain that.

The ordeal was done and over with in only a few mere minutes and Robin only noticed when she realized she had been free of his touch for a few seconds. She propped her head up to look at him to discover he was finished and simply looking at her now.

“Oh, all done?” Robin questioned, feeling on some level like she should be recoiling at his gaze and covering herself up but simply not having the brainpower to truly feel those feelings. She did have one of her arms draped lazily over her chest, though.

“Yes,” Al-an responded, a tone to his voice that seemed awkward. “But I am unsure of what to do now.”

“What?”

“Your culture,” Al-an looked away, feigning interest with a lantern tree growing out of a pot in the corner, “I thought I was more familiar with it than I was. I do not know what to do now, to keep you from being angry and uncomfortable.”

Robin was a little taken aback by his words - it wasn’t often that Al-an admitted to not knowing something, but that wasn’t the main surprise. The main surprise was the way he spoke to her, so softly, if she didn’t know better she would’ve thought he was afraid. Of … upsetting her?

Had she really gone so far? As to make Al-an feel afraid of angering her, making her uncomfortable? To feel like he’s walking on eggshells around her?

Robin sighed. “Oh, Al.”

He turned to look at her immediately, head tilted slightly with hints of curiosity. She almost smiled at it, and she would have if she wasn’t feeling so guilty.

“I’m sorry that I said such mean things.” It was Robin’s turn now to shamefully avert his gaze. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I guess with everything going on lately it’s been harder to understand and control my emotions.”

A moment of silence passed between them.

“I understand.” It was a simple phrase, and it was all Al-an offered.

This sparked a sense of anxiety within Robin - she wanted to hear how upset he was, how she made him feel, if he forgave her or not, she would’ve even preferred he’d taken the opportunity to air his grievances with her. But he didn’t. All he said was he understood.

It gave her an unsuppressable urge to continue, to ramble, to give him something to respond to. “I should have just let you take my clothes off and look at my injuries when this all started, then we wouldn’t be in this position. It’s just that it’s generally very important for us to maintain our, dignity? I guess?” Another moment of silence passed between them and it was clear Al-an wasn’t going to respond. Hastily, she added a question, “Don’t Architects have any of those social customs, things you shouldn’t do or show?”

Al-an glowed a soft green and she was relieved to obtain a discernible non-verbal response, much better than the silent lavender he had been shining since the Sanctuary. She was even more relieved to hear his voice when he spoke.

“Well,” Al-an began slowly, clearly eager to move past her apologies even if in only a slightly unrelated way, “yes, of course we do.” His tone begged her to inquire more and she was happy to comply.

“Like what?”

“As I have told you, many of our desires and actions are driven by the needs of the Collective. It is socially inappropriate to conduct ourselves in such a manner that misrepresents those needs - or directly opposes them.” Al-an clicked, something she was beginning to interpret as an expression of happiness (or at least neutrality). “This can range from large-scale transgressions to smaller ones. It would be impolite of me, for example, to communicate to a group of others using my actual voice as I am doing now. It would be expected of me to entwine my voice with the Collective in a way akin to your internal monologue.”

Robin was very interested. She’d always enjoyed learning about Architects and now seemed as good a time as any. “You guys sound kind of strict, then.”

“You could say that… yes.” Al-an concluded, slowly packing away the med kit he had forgotten about.

“It kind of sounds to me like everyone’s sort of expected to think the same thoughts.”

“I suppose that is a reasonable conclusion to draw.”

A gust of air draped over her as the air filtration in her base kicked on and she was suddenly acutely aware of her total lack of clothes. A blush quickly overcame her, the dimming of her feelings Al-an had previously placed on her slowly but surely fading. “Um, Al?”

“Yes, Robin?” It was almost mesmerizing to watch the way he elegantly clopped those hooves as he walked, returning from the far side of the room where he was placing the medical supplies he had just packed up.

“I’m still sort of naked. Do you mind getting me some clothes from the closet?” Robin pointed meekly in the vague direction of where she stored her clothes, tightening her legs and holding an arm over her chest once more.

“Oh!” Al-an exclaimed, sounding like he had literally just noticed it. He blinked over to her closet and in an instant was flipping through each shirt and pair of pants she had. “Any preferences?”

“Uh, I dunno.” Robin glanced at his rummaging, not that she could see any specific clothing items from this distance. “Something comfortable.”

Al-an blinked back over to her with a pajama set and underwear. “Is this sufficiently comfortable?”

Robin nodded, looking more at him than at the clothes he had picked. This felt so… intimate? There was suddenly such a thick blanket that hung over them (or maybe just her) of something heavy but not uncomfortable.

She didn’t say anything about Al-an having picked out a bra for her even though she didn’t actually wear a bra under her pajamas.

She didn’t say anything as he moved her over and kneeled behind her to help her put it over her breasts. She didn’t say anything when his claws groped her, a pace suspiciously slow, to make sure he’d positioned it correctly. Or when he (hesitantly?) pulled those claws away to finally clasp it.

She didn’t say even a word about how she was more than capable of dressing herself as he slipped her underwear on - not even when a turbulent part of her suddenly preferred she’d kept them off.

She wasn’t saying anything but her breathing betrayed her. If Al-an noticed, he kept silent as he finished slipping her pajamas on, still a pace so slow she could’ve sworn he was dragging it on on purpose.

And honestly, he was. A dark and mischievous part of him was still curious about how he could interact with her body - he’d never really seen or felt her, all he saw her as was that girl wearing the wetsuit, but that wasn’t her. If she insisted on this eternal connection with her corporeal form, he figured he has the right to be curious about it. He certainly wouldn’t admit the deeper motivations to himself, though. He was acting on scientific curiosity, nothing more.

His claws lingered over her sides, something that made Robin hold back a giggle, one nervous, almost as if he was about to tickle her. Of course, though, he didn’t.

She was disappointed when he retracted his grasp and took a step back.

“Does this continue to be sufficiently comfortable?” A question he wasn’t quite sure why he asked, but that just slipped out.

Some unreal exercise in self-control kept Robin from saying what she was really thinking, a simple no, actually, I think I was far more comfortable before, let’s get these clothes off and she just nodded with a dry swallow.

Strangely, Al-an was embarrassed to admit to himself he felt similar, and he didn’t know why. He suddenly wanted to move on and leave the room in order to stop himself from wanting to stay there and comply with those demands he couldn’t even hear but rather felt.

“I’m glad.” he responded in a way sounding perhaps a bit disappointed.

“Yeah,” Robin responded.

A moment of silence passed between them in which they just stared at each other. Then Al-an turned around.

“Goodnight, Robin.” Al-an said, facing the door. He blinked towards it, turned off the light, and blinked right out of her room.

So quickly had Robin been left there, staring at the spot in the doorway Al-an had just been, feeling things overwhelming and unidentifiable (or perhaps she was just denying what she thought those feelings were). She swallowed another dry swallow before laying down, trying to will her racing heart to still and the burn in her cheeks to cease.

It was gonna be a long night.

#al-an #al-an subnautica #below zero #subnautica #al-an x robin #robin ayou #al an x robin #subnautica below zero

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gay-otlc · 1 year

Note

I hope you don’t mind but it is now story time with Griffin

okay so the context is that I have two social workers (this is the poor disabled life 😎). one of them is a cool trans man, and the other one is a problematic scottish lesbian. she is at the centre of this story and will henceforth be referred to as PSL

PSL: anything new this week?

me: I found out that my favourite singer has OCD like me! :)

PSL: oh dear, he must be very difficult to work with :(

me: wdym

PSL: well, he would have to be a control freak, right? that can’t be easy for his team to deal with

I didn’t say anything at the time but LORD I AM FURIOUS. in what world does she think that it’s okay for her to… be such an ass about a mental illness that her client also has?? like, okay, I get it… she thinks I’m hard to work with… thanks for letting me know :/

sorry for the long ask but I don’t know anyone else with OCD who might actually understand why I have so many emotions about this BULLSHIT you don’t need to respond if you don’t have the emotional capacity

Bro that’s so fucked up, how is she even allowed to be a social worker wtf

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jiminschanelearring · 2 years

Text

Rating: T

Genre: smut(none in this Drabble), non idol au, angst if you squint

Warning: none

Word Count: 1k

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Note: It’s finally done and unedited. Sorry!

“I don’t see why we have to be up at 3 am, Y/n” Jimin groaned while sipping his steaming coffee. “We know you’re going to do well during your speech.” You paced feverishly, your stomach doing somersaults as you ignored Jimin’s pleas. “Please, can you just listen to me one more time?” You sigh, collecting your notes once more. Jimin sluggishly nods.

This was your first presentation at your company’s annual work summit and you were a bundle of nerves with each passing minute but Jimin didn’t understand that. In his eyes, it would be the same as presented in your typical workplace but it was wrong. Because now, Jungkook will see you in action. He would see you in front of a podium by your lonesome- spewing whatever information you retained to give an exceptional presentation that you, your colleagues, and your boss would thoroughly be impressed by.

You and Jimin spent a few more hours reciting your notes while Jimin asked questions. Things were going great until he accidentally bumped into the table, wasting coffee on your notes. Everything happened instantly: the table slamming against the wall, the pot of coffee soaking into your notes, and the internal dread that fills your body when you salvage the delicate papers. Jimin’s rushed apologies were sounded out by blood rushing to your ears. 12 hours’ worth of material down the drain and you couldn’t be mad at anyone but yourself. Maybe you did overdo it?

“Min, it’s okay. I know it was only an accident. I’ll clean this up.” you reassured.

“But ___-“ Jimin’s eyes held this worrisome appeal-it almost made you want to pack up everything and sleep for his sake but inevitably you say.

“Please, I got this.”

You most definitely did not have it. You KNEW that you did not have the mental capacity to perform well during this presentation. After convincing Jimin back into his room, you were left with unpleasant aftermath: your ruined notes-smeared black ink reflects your internal conflict to just muster up any idea and bloviate it, but you quickly dismiss it and finish cleaning up the mess. Huffing a short breath of air, y/n packs up her laptop. Maybe retyping your work in the hotel’s business room would equip you with the motivation to bustle through 20 pages of notes. Sadly, it did not and by your third cup of brew, you became restless.

“____?” A muffled voice inquired. “Are you okay?’

Tethering between reality, you didn’t realize that someone found you half-asleep by your partially completed notes. It was all a blurred, kaleidoscopic vision as the figure adjusts your seating into a more comforting position.

“Sleep well,___” you finally hear before sleep consumes you once more.

_____

Four Hours Later

You groan with the sounds of birds chirping. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you glance at the alarm-eyes widen at it. It was noon, also two hours after your presentation. YOU MISSED YOUR PRESENTATION! Climbing out of bed, you frantically slip on your shoes and blazer, almost missing Jungkook sipping on his beverage across from you.

“The meeting is over ___.” He stated, halting your rushed movements.

“Why am I here?” You panic now realizing that you were in Jungkook’s room. “ I saw you asleep in the board room and felt you must’ve been uncomfortable. I’m sorry if I imposed it.” He apologized.

“No, you’re fine. I was exhausted anyway.” You brushed off, in which he nodded.

“Well, would you like to have lunch? I ordered way too much.” Jungkook scratches his neck. It was a buffet-like feast with different dishes that made your mouth water. “ I guess I could stay. No need to turn down free food.”

You had no idea where this newfound bravery came from but you relished this impromptu lunch date with Jungkook. It made you forget about missing your presentation. The endless hours, high function anxiety, and a minor caffeinated overload all vanished. Because you were here, next to Jungkook sipping on sparkling water.

You check the time and see that it is currently 3:00. Being with Jungkook made the time fly by literally. Your ringtone interrupts your conversation about your favorite home-cooked meals.

Jimin: Are you dead? Where are you?

Jimin: You and Jungkook missed the presentation.

Jimin: Did you finally fuck him?

Jimin: I’m telling Joon you’re ignoring me again.

A long chain of messages from Jimin decorated your Home Screen, each becoming more chaotic.

“I should probably get going. Jimin is wondering where I’m at and he might issue a missing person alert if I don’t respond.” You tell him. “Also, you missed the meeting too?”___asked.

Jungkook scratched his neck

“I didn’t want you to wake up without knowing where you were, so I sent an email to Tae saying that we were caught up on this breach case,” he confessed. The breach case? You almost forgot about it. “That was smart. I need to review it again.” Spending restless nights took its toll, a breach case is crucial and demands optimal focus, something you’ve been neglecting for a few days. “I could always help if you need it?” he inquired, sipping on his guava juice.

You gulp. Chatting over steamed veggies is one thing but having a legal discourse with Jungkook is another. He still makes your palm sweaty and your heartbeat race at the speed of light especially when he was in his lawyer persona. Stoic and suave. Persuading each individual with convection, a smooth crusader of a linguist. He has been around a lot lately since you flaked on the lunch date and informed him that you didn’t need his help, but this presentation took its toll.

“I don’t know. Wouldn’t want to give you any unnecessary work.”

“It wouldn’t be a problem! Anything to help.” He rushed out. “Plus, it’ll be a great way for us to finally collaborate. It’s quite peculiar that two of the best attorneys in the firm have yet to do a case together.”

You hesitated. It would be nice to have Jungkook around more often,and plus he was the best attorney at the firm, but he was also a major distraction. You could never focus on anything with him around.

“Y/n, what do you think?”

#bts #jeon jungkook #bts ffs #bts imagines #bts smut #jungkook x you #ot7 #jungkook imagine

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angelnumber27 · 2 years

Note

It’s a long shot that I could ever hate myself, I love myself — highly doubt you could say the same. You’re the one whose addicted, let’s not forget that. I see your posts and remember how fucking terrible you are. All you do is project, I wasn’t even talking about any subject matter; was literally just calling you a fiend, fentanyl whore.

awwww hahah ooooooookay lmfao whateeeeeever you say 🤣🤣🤣🤣 keep telling yourself that honey. if you loved yourself even in the slightest you wouldn’t send ugly hate anons to someone who doesn’t know you! That’s not how loving yourself works <3 you’re rancid and hateful and soooooooo MAD and that’s that :) I don’t do this gross childish shit like you and love myself more than it seems you could ever love anything. You have an ugly heart and a nasty ass attitude.

unfollow me if my posts make you remember how “fucking terrible I am” (false lmaooooooo) name one time I was “fucking terrible” baby girl.. if IM terrible what does that make you? Demented evil and irredeemable.

Would genuinely LOVE to hear what someone like you considers terrible and would LOVE to hear what you’re referring to. Because this is entirely unprovoked projection and I know for a fact I’ve done nothing to your random irrelevant ass. Clown.

I’m not the one projecting. My ask box literally says “don’t project” so I know you most definitely didn’t even know the meaning of that word bc clearly you dont have a very extensive vocabulary, so you just copied what my inbox said ☠️ And how dense are you that you cannot read the dozens of times I’ve mentioned that I am NO LONGER ADDICTED. You even got the drug wrong damn fool🤣 Haven’t been for almost a year and just watch, that’ll turn into several years. I’m so sorry (not) that that makes you SOOOO angry. But guess what? It has nothing to do with you. You have nothing to do with me. (Thank GOD) You’re someone who can easily be so UGLY even to strangers which makes me feel horrible for those who know you in real life and all of the other kind people/addicts in recovery you stalk and harass. You need to work on yourself a LOT, you need to try a LOT harder when it comes to reading comprehension and you need to start educating yourself (for once evidently) so badly and to find something better to do all day than taking the time and energy out of your day to do this childish immature ass shit. Are you nine years old? Have you never in your life known anyone effected by addiction? Id be surprised if you didn’t. Hope you don’t treat those people like you treat people on here. And do you just not have the mental capacity to understand that when someone gets clean from something, it means they’re no longer taking it? Like you really don’t get that???? LMAO. Do some extensive research and go to therapy regularly. You need it. This behavior is beyond disgusting, really hope you heal your ugly heart! 🖤 have a good life being horrible judgmental hateful bitter and jealous! None of that is my fault, or anyone else’s (it’s.. yours.) so you should stop taking all of that blatantly obvious self hate, pure ANGER and extreme insecurity out on people you’re jealous of or because of whatever disgusting urge you can’t control to attack people who don’t deserve it at all and are worlds better than you.

Why don’t you go try to do what I was on for four years and try to even go through 1/10000000000 of what I’ve been through. Doubt you’d survive in the first place. But keep speaking from a place of absolute idiocy and keep living your sad life of being unable to feel empathy :( You could NEVER do ANY of what I did, getting and STAYING completely sober from the most additive deadly substance on the planet at home by myself with no medical help. I did something beyond incredible and no matter what nasty people like you say, I’m so proud of myself and always will be :) as I should be. Clearly you could also never experience the extreme pain abuse and trauma I have and still be kind and loving to others (but you already knew that) you’d off yourself if you’d been through even the tiniest fraction of what I have. I’d hate myself too if I was like you :( so sad and horrid and SOOOO ANGRY. (Only difference is I wouldn’t take that out on other people who are doing better than me because I’m not an awful cunt) hope you don’t have anyone around you physically (I’m sure you don’t lol bc truly why would anyone want to be around that) because you obviously don’t have a shred of empathy or basic decency in that angry ass body of yours. I feel bad for you, it must be so hard to wake up this ignorant bitter and jealous every day.

I hope you get the professional help you desperately need to heal from your vile ugly heart and horrible personality bc this is so repulsive and so are you! If you need help finding therapists in your area I can send you links! :)

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csmeaner · 2 years

Note

Bro you cannot sit there and tell you think ANY of the admins in Scarfoxes have the brain cells OR mental capacity to remember a single fucking image posted almost a year prior to their design being created and sold. That’s being way too generous with Staff’s capabilities. Those cunts can’t even remember shit from a day ago let alone almost an entire fucking YEAR. I don’t believe even for a second that Dragon-Eternal ripped off that design and that’s not me defending staff. They’re too fucking stupid to retain any memory of something that long.

Someone on the bulletin pointed out that Laneycore wasn’t even active in the discord, and I checked the post history and they were right. If that ripoff Mikufox was being posted constantly or they had more art of that fire form then I could see it being an inspiration or ripoff but with the current circumstances? Hell no. Staff isn’t that good and Laney’s accusations of Dragon saving the image when it was posted are ludicrous. Who the hell does Laney think they are that someone would be assed enough to right click and save one shitty piece of art from them? Oh, Dragon-Eternal reacted to it at the time? Uh oh! Guess staff isn’t allowed to react to any image posted ever because it means they’re STEALING IT.

How far up your own fucking ass does your head have to be to think like that? And claiming that their fox is that popular, well-known, and liked like it isn’t a fucking ripoff design? Because Chuchy apparently has no creativity and had to rip off other sources themself and then shits on others for potentially doing the same thing? I’ve never heard of OR seen Laneycore before this fiasco and tbh I blocked them after reading through the bulletin and their comments because they seem like an annoying egotistical cunt. I also didn’t see many people talking about their fox in the discord outside of Laneycore themself, and haven’t seen it talked about anywhere else I frequent either so really, how popular is it actually? Seems like Laney’s status as a popular artist (if they even are one?) has gone to their head.

I know the entire point of the vent/callout was the staff’s unprofessionalism but Laney has no solid proof in their case that Dragon ACTUALLY ripped off their art piece for that design. The accusations they came in with were fucking ridiculous for not having proof to back it up and even a good moderation team would struggle in that situation. And looking at the two designs myself I’m sorry to say that I don’t see the issue. Two designs using green fire is hardly enough grounds to call plagiarism or copying when the coloration and elements in both pieces don’t even match up. Nothing about the two designs is similar other than the appearance of the color of the fire, and even that’s different when you look at the hex codes. I also don’t understand why Laneycore waited over a month to complain and why they didn’t go to Dragon with their issue first since Dragon was the artist of the piece.

Both parties behaved poorly here. I will never side with SF staff, but I can’t side with Laneycore here either because they’re also in the wrong. Demanding an entire palette change or hue shift just because a piece has similar colors to your own art is WAY too entitled and nobody gets away with that shit when they try it. Nobody owns a palette or a theme or idea, and ragging on staff because they handled your proofless accusations poorly is stupid as fuck. Nobody was going to come out of this situation a winner.

Fuck SF staff, especially with Dragon’s vague ass counter journal and every other time the SF staff have done shit to piss people off (DARCI), but really fuck Laneycore too. All of them can eat shit.

post related (links to updated post even tho i think this one was made before it was edited)

what happens when an insufferable force meets a dismissive object. like you can't even root for anyone in this im just happy this is a huge blow to scarfox in general

#scarfox

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