#the lunatic was wild from the get
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sad bc i feel like im in japanese literature specialization with people who are uninterested at best and hating it all at worst. literature is cool, reading stuff you wouldnt pick up on your own is great sometimes and finding meaning behind the words is just... a crazy experience. why are you even here if you just want to complain that people write their feelings and struggles out in allegories and symbols...
#hakuna matata#i have japanese lit class again tomorrow#and im really enjoying the book i was given to read#its a collection of traditional ghost stories rewritten from a female/feminist perspective (where the wild ladies are by matsuda aoko)#and i hate attending this class and giving my silly little presentations and explaining what this book means to me#knowing that like... nobody else is this enthusiastic about their own books.#im convinced they think im a lunatic anyway for many reasons#it just sucks. the one class where i really get to do work im interested in. and nobody else gives a shit.#especially that one guy#why are you studying humanities why are you studying japanese literature if you refuse to think of mankind as more than cold unfeeling logi#i havent hated being around someone this much in a very long time
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OH, DARLING—ASTARION
✎. he’s in a perpetually strange mood for the rest of the day, quieter than usual and more sulky, and you have the sneaking suspicion he's upset with you. | wc. 1.3K+
tags. fem!reader, established relationship, jealousy, slight dirty talk, pet names [18+ only]
masterlist
Eighteen days. That’s how long it takes between the Shadowlands and reaching Wyrm’s Crossing. Longer still since you’ve interacted with anyone other than bandits, lost refugees, cult-crazed lunatics, and your merry band of weirdos (Gale’s words, not yours).
For once, you’re not picking berries off bushes to offset hunger until you make camp or plucking bramble from your pants when the occasional trail turns out to be safer than the King’s Road. You can finally sit at a bartop and order wine instead of choking down the contents of an ancient bottle of Ithbank you snatched from a cellar in some decrepit village.
That was at least the most tolerable thing you experienced outside the gates, as far as roughing it in the wilds goes.
And it might be your newfound appreciation for city life, of finding an escape from what’s become your current normal—sneaking past goblin-infested camps, waterlogged boots, and haystacks for beds (an upgrade from sleeping on the cold, hard dirt, you suppose)—that lures the Drow twins over to your party walking down from the top floor of the Sharess’ Caress.
“You must be curious after keeping such…” Nym glances over Astarion, Shadowheart, and Karlach, hovering behind you, threatening with blood stains on their clothes and out of place in an establishment full of nobles and wealthy ministers. “Interesting company.”
It’s safe to say you’re uninterested in the twins, but that doesn’t stop your curiosity from piquing when Nym demonstrates her talents with a peach she snatches from a fruit bowl off the nearest table. By the end of it—an obscene display that catches the eye of a few patrons walking by and sends your imagination reeling—you wonder how often she does this to gain clientele. If it’s always so…hands-on.
“So what do you think?”
You don’t know what to think, oddly confused like that first time Astarion had to spell out for you that he wanted to have sex—you’re going to be so fun to break, pet—a girl who’s every bit the product and trappings of a sheltered fool.
“Are you interested?”
The mutilated peach in Nym’s hand drips clear fruit juice down her wrist in thin rivulets, collecting at her elbow. You start to shake your head—
Astarion scoffs. “She already has her hands full without your sticky fingers and whatever the hells you’re doing to that innocent peach.”
Nym’s mouth curls up into a coy smile before her gaze sweeps over to Astarion. “Her lover, I presume?”
“As in, I already tasted said peach while you’re still trying to get your mouth on it; well then, yes. Very much so.”
You slap his chest, your face somehow getting hotter. “Astarion!”
“Darling, we’re in a whorehouse. I assure you they’ve heard worse.”
Nym makes a wordless, amused sound. “Well, if you ever find yourself curious or—” she gives Astarion one last scrutinizing once over and looks at you again “—unsatisfied, you know where to find me and my brother.”
Before you can politely decline, Astarion chips in on your behalf, “Trust me, she’s not.”
He steers you toward the door—I’m never going to look at a silly piece of fruit the same after this—and you don’t miss how he sends the twins a withering stare right before he joins you on the street.
He’s in a perpetually strange mood for the rest of the day, quieter than usual and more sulky.
You stare at the back of his head as he walks in front of you, bulky pack slung over his shoulder with the books and scrolls you bought earlier, deciding whether you should join him or leave him to his thoughts.
Karlach nudges your shoulder. “Trouble in paradise, soldier?”
“Not really.” You bite your lip. “Should there be?”
Her gaze follows yours to Astarion, and she hums in understanding.
“If you stare at his back any longer, you might burn a hole through it." Heat crawls up your neck, and you try to give her a shove when Astarion looks at both of you over his shoulder, but she doesn't move an inch and laughs instead. "He’s probably upset over finding another pebble in his boot again. Don’t sweat it.”
An unreasonable suggestion, for you know it’s more than another pebble.
He doesn’t say anything once you all reach camp, nor does he give you even the slightest acknowledgment when you walk by his tent on your way to bed or look up from his book—no hello, my sweet readily waiting on his tongue—when you slip a little note under his nose.
It’s starting to give you the sneaking suspicion he’s upset with you—though you hardly have the faintest idea why.
You’re pulled awake by the quiet, careful shifting of your blanket as someone slips into your bedroll behind you. You stare blearily at the barn's wall, trying to blink away the disorienting feeling still clinging to you like dew on a humid summer day.
It’s the first brush of sharp incisors against your throat that erases the last vestiges of sleep altogether.
Ah, so he read your note.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” you whisper, aware enough to remember the other two people sleeping in the barn with you.
“Have I?”
“You know what I mean.” You tighten your grip on your blanket. “You’re upset, aren’t you?”
He kisses the tender spot below your ear. “I wouldn’t phrase it like that.”
“But you’re unhappy.”
Your breath hitches when his tongue flicks out to taste your skin.
“Yes, I’m unhappy.”
“Was it because of what that drow said?”
“Hm, be more specific.”
“When she—with the peach.” You squirm a little, a mouse blessedly caught by the tail. “You know.”
His chuckle is soft, faintly mocking.
“Oh, darling. You think I’m jealous?” He runs a thumb over the fluttering pulse in your neck. “How cute.”
And right before he applies the smallest amount of pressure—
“Well, you would be correct.”
When Astarion works at the laces of your pants, loosening them just enough to slip his hand underneath, you jump at the first cool brush of his fingers tracing across your heated skin. Your muscles jump, jump, jump under his touch, goosebumps prickling along your arms when his hand fits suddenly between your legs. Two soft pats that make you gasp.
“Drippy,” he murmurs. You don’t think your face can get any hotter.
Then he’s hooking two—fuck, three—fingers into you, splitting you open, curling up toward your belly; you can’t bite back the moan that breaks free.
“Hush, pet.”
Nipping at your neck, he scissors his fingers, smiling at your choked, stuttered gasp.
“Do you think I’d let anyone see how you fall apart with a few quick strokes of the fingers? How you sound? How you taste?”
The questions are followed by his thumb pressing into the achy spot at the apex between your legs, and you don’t mention that he’s doing this with two other people sleeping soundly on the other side of the room.
“This—” his fingers curl inside you, pressing until he finds soft flesh that makes your legs jerk. “This is all for me—mine—wouldn’t you agree?”
You nod slowly, hand clamped over your mouth to trap the sounds that keep escaping.
“Good, so we understand each other then.”
Your thighs tremble around his wrist. His fangs drag across the thin, breakable column throat, almost like a warning, catching at two identical scars that haven’t fully healed since you’ve let a feral, lost little vampire into your camp before he gives in and bites.
Digging in—messy—you imagine the dribble of red down his pale chin, how he sometimes leaves it there to savor later.
You’re limp and floating in a matter of seconds, your mind blissfully quiet for the first time in days.
“Remember that, darling, the next time someone starts giving you ideas.” After a moment, he whispers: "But I'm also happy you said no."
And he slips out of your bedroll without so much of a creak in the floorboards and out of the barn as if he was never there.
#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#astarion smut#bg3 x reader#bg3 x tav#bg3 smut#baldur's gate x reader#astarion x you#.things i write
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all hers, part i
part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue
summary: “I’d kill everybody in this town before they’d take you away from me.” Tara says, eyes wild. “I’d kill everybody in the world. You belong to me.” ghostface!tara
warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, possessive behavior, vaginal sex, murder of an OC character), smut.
word count: 4.2k
a/n: for anon, who requested some smutty, possessive ghostface!tara. very, very fun to write, let me know if you want me to write some more ;)
Four murders in seven days.
It was a nightmare. You’d heard the stories, sure. Seen the movies. But you’d never thought it would actually happen to you.
That’s what you got for transferring to Woodsboro of all places.
Your phone buzzes as you finish locking the remaining doors. It’s Tara. You smile instinctively as her name flashes across your screen.
where are you? still coming over?
You look outside. It’s dark already, and the thought of leaving the house when there’s a lunatic running around scares the shit out of you.
not tonight sorry, baby. lost track of time. don’t want to leave Chase here by himself.
You contemplate asking her over. Her sister is in town, and you’d been trying to give them some space to reconnect. Sam was with her, you assured yourself. Besides, the last thing you wanted was her leaving the safety of her home and getting attacked.
“YN! Popcorn ready?”
You drop your phone to the counter, check on the popcorn in the microwave.
Chase had been your first friend at Woodsboro High, before you’d met anyone else, even Tara. Since you’d started dating her, you hadn’t seen him much. He’d asked you over tonight - your parents were out and he didn’t want you on your own. He’d had a hankering, in somewhat bad taste, to marathon the Stab movies.
It was nice being with Chase again, even under such terrifying circumstances.
You tell him so.
“You know why that is, right?” He laughs, shoveling a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Your girlfriend hates me.”
You roll your eyes.
“She does not.”
“Does too. Every time I see her she gives me these eyes.”
He squints, twists his face into an angry glare.
“Like she wants to kill me.”
“You’re imagining it.” You tell him.
Throw a kernel of popcorn at him.
“Uh huh.” He says, turning his gaze back to the movie, “Sure.”
Talking about Tara had always been weird with him. He’d had a thing for you, back in the day, when you’d first met. He’d even asked you out once. But you already had your sights set on Tara and nothing could deter you. He’d taken it well-ish. So you’d thought.
“How are things going with her, anyway?” His voice casual. You look over.
“Good.” You say. “Great. Why do you ask?”
He doesn’t look away from the TV. Shrugs, but it’s tense. Like he’s trying to appear more non-committal. You suddenly feel uncomfortable.
“Just wondering.”
The movie plays a little, you let awkward silence wash over the room. Peer down at your phone. No response from Tara. Maybe you should have gone to her house after all.
“I-” He says suddenly, then stops. Purses his lips.
“What?”
“It’s nothing.” He says. “Nevermind.”
You stare.
“What, Chase?”
“I just get a weird vibe from her sometimes. That’s all.”
You blink, caught off guard.
“You don’t know her.” You say, instantly defensive. “There’s no vibe. She’s perfect. She’s the perfect girlfriend.”
And she was. She picked you up everyday at 8am on the dot to drive you to school. She walked you to class, held your books for you. Showered you with affection.
“She’s possessive.” Chase says. He’s looking at you now. Words spilling out of him like they’ve been pent up for a while. “You just don’t see it because you’re all moon-eyed for her. It’s not normal. It’s like you're her special toy and nobody else can play with you.”
“Stop.” You say.
“She’s isolated you from all your friends.” He continues. “You used to play soccer, remember? What happened to that? What about dance? All the things you used to love. You don’t do them anymore. Your whole world revolves around her.”
You stand up. A lump rises in the back of your throat. You’d come here to watch movies with an old friend, not have him berate you about your relationship.
“That isn’t true.” You say, “With school, I just don’t have time for those things anymore-”
“Because when you’re not in school, you’re with her.” He presses. “And she wants you with her all the time. Like I said, possessive.”
“Great to know how you really feel.” You say. Grab your phone.
“Sorry, YN. The truth hurts.” He slumps back into his seat, stares at the TV again. “Where are you going?”
“Bathroom.” You mumble.
You open your phone when you reach the bathroom, go straight to Tara’s contact.
She’s opened your message, but hasn’t replied.
“Great.” You say aloud. Your perfect girlfriend has left you on read.
You contemplate calling her, asking her to come get you. No. You chew on your bottom lip. You could just leave, chance an encounter with ghost-face. You decide against it. You’re annoyed with Chase, but not that annoyed.
You wash your hands. Head back downstairs. Flick Tara another message.
You’re not mad, are you? Love you. Wish I was with you instead. xx
Chase hasn’t moved. He looks up when you enter, looking a little sheepish.
“YN-”
“Don’t worry about it.” You say. Sink into the sofa, as far from him as possible. “Let’s just watch the movie.”
And you do. Forty minutes of cheesy dialogue and bad acting and not a word from Chase. You like it that way. You keep glancing at your phone, waiting for your girlfriend’s response. But nothing.
The movie’s over. You can hear the credits rolling, but your eyes are drooping. Half gone. Your phone long abandoned, Tara’s reply nowhere to be found. You’re dreaming of Hawaii in the summer. Pina colada in hand. Tara dressed in a bikini, waist deep in the water. Kissing her in the sand, not a care in the world.
Then you hear the crash.
Your eyes jerk open. You sit up. Startled. You look around the room. The TV has shut itself off. Chase is nowhere to be found. There are noises coming from the foyer. Your heart beats, fast. You look wildly around the room. You want something to defend yourself with.
You settle on a small wooden zebra. Some useless ornament only Chase’s mom would decorate with. It’ll do.
You hear scuffling. More crashing. Then, Chase’s voice, shrill - scared.
“Please! Stop!”
Your ears ring. Terror rips through you as you make your way into the hallway, quietly as you can.
Chase is on the floor, writhing, both his hands wrapped around a curved, silver dagger.
Your stomach drops.
It’s Ghostface.
Your bottom lip trembles. You want to run. Scream. Hide. All at once. But you can’t. You’re rooted to the spot, transfixed.
Ghostface raises his arm, steady. Then slams his dagger straight down and through Chase’s chest. Chase cries out. Blood gurgles from his lips. Ghostface stabs him, twice, then three times. Crazed. Possessed.
Your body gives way. You let out a scream. Topple backwards into the hallway cabinet.
Glass smashes around you. Ghostface looks straight at you.
Your back hurts from the fall. You writhe desperately on the floor, trying to get up. The Zebra has slipped from your fingers. Tears tumble down your face.
In your peripheral, you see Ghostface abandon Chase. Head straight for you.
You cry out as he makes a grab at you.
“Stop.” His voice is contorted, unnatural. He’s using a voice-changer. That same awful voice from that dumb movie you’d just watched. You sob as his hands tighten around you.
“I’m not going to hurt you. Don’t struggle.”
You flop out of his grip, kick up just in time to take the Zebra in your hands.
“I’m not here for you, stop-”
Your fingers tighten around the Zebra. You use all your force to smack it hard against Ghostface’s head. You hear him cry out. Fall back.
You’ve hit him hard. He clutches at his head as he falls back.
There’s a clang as his mask hits the ground.
Your breath hitches in your throat. Your chest seizes painfully. The Zebra in your hand slips out of your grasp and hits the floor.
“Tara?”
She looks up at you, her eyes wide, like a deer in headlights. Tears prick at the sides of your eyes. You blink.
She swallows. Stands upright.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.” She says. The voice changer is gone. The sound of her voice makes you want to weep, “Don’t be scared.”
She edges towards you, slowly. As if you’re a baby rabbit that might startle at any moment. You see the gleam of her dagger in her hand. Still wet with blood.
“Tara.” You say again, voice trembling. You take a step back. Panic floods through you. How can this be happening?
“It’s me.” She assures. “You don’t have to be afraid. Look.” She holds out her hand, drops the dagger to the floor. It careens over the carpet. Stains it with blood.
She inches closer. You don’t realize just how close she is before she’s reaching out, tugging you into her open arms. Your body locks up. The shock, the panic, the lump at the back of your throat. Everything spills over. You blubber into her chest as she holds you tight.
“Shhh. It’s okay baby.” She comforts you, hands rubbing tight circles across your back. You want to push her off. You want to run. But you can't, you're frozen, all you can do is bawl. She tilts your head up to her. Rubs her nose against yours. She smells metallic. Like blood. She’s covered in it, you realize with a start.
You tremble.
“Don’t be scared.” She repeats. Strokes her fingers along your cheeks. “My pretty girl. I would never hurt you.”
Her eyes are wild. Pupils blown. No trace of your sweet, loving girlfriend. You don’t recognize the person in front of you. You want her off you. But you don’t dare push her away. She presses you into her. Over her shoulder, you see Chase’s lifeless body. His glassy eyes stare up at you.
“He’s dead.” You say. Tears leak like acid from your eyes. Tara holds you tighter.
“I know.” You feel her lips graze the side of your head. She presses a lingering kiss there. “I’m sorry you had to see, darling. I thought you were asleep.”
A whimper emerges from your lips. Tears fall hot and fast down your cheeks, your hands limp at your side as she holds you. Cradles you.
“Why?”
She pauses. You feel her tense.
“Because they wanted you. All of them. They wanted you, but I’d never let them have you. Because you’re mine.”
And it clicks. There had been four victims so far. The first was Dan and his brother Sam, both boys you’d known since elementary school. Both who’d had crushes on you.
Then there was Aaron, your first kiss. Then Sadie, your first girlfriend.
Your bottom lip trembles. They were all dead because of you.
Tears roll down your face. Your body starts to shake.
Tara shushes you, pulls back only slightly to wipe away your tears. She’s so tender, gentle, you almost forget the bloodied body you’d just watch her maim lying in the corner of the room.
“Don’t cry, sweet girl.” She presses her lips to your forehead. “Here. Look.”
She steps back momentarily. Shimmies out of her black robes. She’s wearing your old varsity soccer t-shirt underneath. Your sweatpants. The necklace you’d got her for your one year anniversary. She looks like herself again. Your Tara.
Your bottom lip trembles.
“See. It’s just me.”
It makes you cry even harder. How could this be real? You’d just watched as your sweet, gentle, loving girlfriend had driven a knife into someone.
Tara. How could it be Tara?
“I know, I know, baby. It’s okay.” Her arms are around you again. She holds you as you sob. Every instinct in you screams to run. To get away from this deranged psycho who just killed your best friend in front of you. But you can’t. She’s the only one you want to run to.
You press yourself into her, tears soaking through her shirt. She cradles you, you feel her lips ghost your forehead.
“I didn’t want you to find out like this.” She says, “I’m sorry, baby girl. I know it’s a shock.”
She holds you a while longer. Until your eyes are red and dry, nothing left to cry. Your heartbeat still hammering against your chest.
What do I do?, You think. Where do I go?
She was calm now, much calmer than you. But that could change in a heartbeat. If you ran, she’d chase you. Maybe even kill you too. That look in her eyes, black, terrifying. You hiccup against her.
What the fuck do I do?
She rubs your back. Draws away from you just enough to wipe the rest of your tears from your face. Lets her fingers linger on your cheeks.
“Come here.” She dips down before you can protest. Presses her lips to yours. You don’t resist. Electricity flows through your body. Your stomach flutters the way it always does when she kisses you. Your body wants her just as it always does. Guilt flushes through you. You draw back, hold her at arms length.
“I can’t.” You pull back, a fresh wave of tears rising. Your stomach turns. “I think I’m going to be sick”
Her hands grip your shoulders.
“It’s okay. It’s alright. Hey. Look at me.” She’s firm, suddenly. You look up at her through glistening eyes. She softens her voice again, brushes your hair out of your eyes.
“I’m going to clean this up.” Her head jerks to the body near the corner of the room. “Then I’m going to clean you up.” She strokes the side of your face. Scratches on your cheeks from the glass.
“And then I’m going to take you to bed and make love to you. Show you just how much I adore you. Alright? Will that make everything better, sweetheart?”
Revulsion rises in your stomach suddenly. Her hands on you feel heavy. Suffocating. Your cheeks flush hot with emotion.
“No. Don’t you dare touch me.” You say. You shake off her hands, take a step back.
The words startle you as much as they startle her. Hurt clouds her features for a moment. She tries to smooth it over, tilting her head.
“Baby. You don’t mean that.”
“Yes I do. I don’t want you near me. Not after what you’ve done.” You back up, pressing yourself against the wall. Part of you wants to make a grab for the dagger but she’s too close. Besides, what would you do with it anyway? You weren’t like her. You weren’t a killer.
Tara blinks. Her eyes fill with something you don’t recognize.
“You’re just confused.” Tara says, voice hollow. “I know it’s hard to get your head around-“
“Please. Go. Just go.”
You’re shaking. Tara stares. Her bottom lip twitches. You recognize what’s behind her eyes this time. Anger. Irritation.
“You want me to go? After all this. After everything I’ve done for you?” For the first time, her voice is trembling. She looks angry. Hurt. Confused.
“For me?” You ask. Your voice rises. “You killed my best friend for me?”
“For us.” She urges. “Don’t you see - there’s no distractions anymore. No one else. No one is going to take you from me.”
She’s moving closer again. You don’t want her near you. You eye the door, move before she can stop you.
“YN!”
You run. Blood rushing in your ears.
She calls your name again, but you don’t look back. The front door is locked, so you sprint for the back. You can’t think straight, can’t trust your own emotions. So you trust your instincts.
Run. Run. Run.
You reach the door, fumble with the handle. Your heart in your throat. You twist it madly, but it doesn’t budge.
“Come on!” You cry out. You twist again, but it’s too late.
You feel her hands on your waist as she grabs you.
You struggle against her, screaming. The sheer force knocks you both over. You scramble up, trying to stand but she’s too quick. Her hands wrap tight around your waist, pulling you back down to her. She grabs your wrists, holds them tight over your head as she climbs on top of you.
“Get off me!” You cry, but she doesn’t. Squeezes you down tighter.
Wild eyes stare down at you. Her eyes, usually the softest brown, are wide, saucer like. Her eyebrows knit together as she pleads.
“Please, baby, stop.” She begs. “It’s me. It’s just me.”
She’s smaller than you, but she’s so much stronger. She’s always been stronger than you. It used to be hot, the way she could hold you down with such little effort. Now, it terrifies you.
You try with all your might to push her off but she only grips tighter. A frustrated sob emerges from your lips. She presses you against the floor. You feel her lips on your forehead as she shushes you.
“Don’t cry, sweetheart.” She says, voice so tender you almost forget she has you trapped in a vice grip. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Then let me go.” You wail. Your body goes limp. There’s no point in struggling. She’s too strong. “Please, Tara, just let me go.”
“I can’t do that, baby.” She says. Her voice soft, almost apologetic, “I love you.”
You whimper, pathetically. Your mind whirls, going a mile a minute. There’s no way out, you realize. She’s stronger than you. She’s faster than you. And she’s hopelessly and desperately in love with you. She’ll never let you go.
Your breathing evens out.
“I love you.” She says again, voice barely above a whisper.
Her breath is hot, against your mouth. You shudder. She presses her lips to your cheek. Nuzzles her nose into your neck.
“I love you.”
Her lips press into your neck. A hot jolt of energy sparks between your legs. Even now, after everything she’s done you can’t help but want her. You start to cry again.
She tilts herself up. Looks at you, really looks at you.
Gone is the manic, crazy killer who just chased you down a hallway and stuck a knife in your best friend. Her eyes are wide, that soft, sweet brown they always are.
There she is. Your first love. Your high school sweetheart. The girl who had taken your virginity. Tara. Your sweet girlfriend, Tara.
“I love you.” She whispers, a final time. Your heartbeat slows, steady. Your eyes flicker down to her lips. She notices.
She lingers above you only a moment, before she leans down and captures your lips.
Heat flushes to your cheeks. Butterflies erupt in your chest.
Warm, warm, warm.
Is all you feel.
You groan into her mouth. Confusion flashes through you once again.
“Stop.” You murmur against her lips. Soft. Half-hearted, like you don’t mean it. She pulls back.
“Stop?” She asks. Voice low. Like she knows what you’re going to say.
Your breath hitches. Her hands loosen their grip on your wrists. Her weight on top of you suddenly feels erotic.
“Don’t stop.” You whisper, and she claims your lips once again.
Your kisses build, feverish. Desperate. A mesh of lips and teeth and tongue. You loop your hands through her hair, pull her tight against you.
Her hands loop under your shirt, tug at your jeans. You pull hers off first, wanting her hot and naked against you, groaning at the heat of her skin against your own.
All thoughts of Chase are gone as you slip your hands into her underwear. She’s wet already, gasps as you circle her clit. You press warm kisses to her jaw.
She presses you back onto the floor. Tugs your underwear down your legs. Her fingers dip down to your heat.
“Tara.” You gasp. She nuzzles herself into your neck. Presses, wet, sloppy kisses down your jawline. Her fingers brush your clit before she sinks her fingers inside you.
She groans. Kisses you deep.
“Fuck baby, you’re so tight. So wet.”
“Tara.” You gasp. Her fingers curl inside you, her thumb rubbing gently over your clit. She kisses you again. Works her fingers deeper into you.
“Does that feel good, baby?” She asks. Her voice is graveled, thick with want. You moan out as she hits just the right spot.
“You like that? You like my fingers inside you?”
You nod, madly, clawing at her back, trying to pull her closer.
“I like it too, baby. It’s my favorite thing in the world. I’d do anything to be inside you.”
Her eyes are black, hazy, lust filled. You kiss her deeply.
“I’d kill everybody in this town before they’d take you away from me.” She says, eyes wild. “I’d kill everybody in the world. You belong to me.”
You moan.
“Tell me.” She says, “Tell me who you belong to.”
“You, baby.” You gasp.
“That's right. All mine. Every inch of you.” She growls. Her hand movements are steady. Angry. Pounding into you. Your hips jerk with each thrust, your cheeks red.
“Nobody else is going to touch you. Not ever. I’m the only one who gets to do this.” She says. Her eyes are starting to blacken again, jealous at the thought of somebody else sinking inside you.
“No one else.” You pant. “I promise.”
She growls, takes a nipple in her mouth. Bites down hard. Her fingers drive into your pussy.
You moan her name. It relaxes her a little. She slows her pace, dipping down to kiss down your stomach. She nuzzles against your thigh, lovingly.
“Who can blame them?” She says. She reaches up to touch your face, presses a gentle kiss to your belly. Her fingers pump in and out at a steady pace. Her fingers coated in your wetness. “My perfect girl. Always so beautiful. Who wouldn’t want you? I want you all the time.”
She dips down, presses kisses to the tops of your thighs, rhythm steady as she fucks you. A low moan escapes from your mouth as she licks a long stripe down your center, stopping momentarily to wrap her lips around your clit.
Your thighs clench around her head but she keeps your legs pried open. She sucks you only a moment before she’s grinning up at you, debauched, slipping a third finger inside your dripping cunt.
“I wish I could spend every waking moment inside this gorgeous pussy. Always so pretty and tight and wet for me. Always throbbing around my fingers. Squeezing. Trying to keep me in you, isn’t that right?”
Her eyes gleam. Her pretty red lips sticky with your arousal.
“You’d like that wouldn’t you, baby? You’d like me to be in you all the time.”
“Yes.” You groan.
“Dirty girl.” She chides. Her head dips down again, and you throw your head back as she sucks on your clit, hard.
She releases you after a moment. Lips back on your thighs, fingers pummeling up into your g-spot.
Your stomach coils. She sucks on your thigh leisurely, her fingers slamming into you with no mercy.
“Mine.” She says. “Say it.”
“Yours. All yours.”
Her arms grip tight around your waist. She licks her way up your length, not stopping the force of her fingers.
You throb around her, so close. She presses kisses to your thighs as she works you to the edge.
“You going to come for me, baby?” She murmurs, lips on your clit, “Good girl. That’s it, sweetheart. Come in my mouth.”
She sucks your clit, hard, and you topple over the edge.
Your back arches. You let out a low groan as your orgasm washes over you. She works you though it, lovingly sucking, her fingers curled.
You slump back onto the floor as she presses kisses to your belly. She keeps her fingers in you as she leans up, kisses you so tenderly.
“Good girl.” She murmurs. You sigh into her mouth. You can taste yourself on her lips. It’s intoxicating. She presses a kiss to your neck.
Draws her fingers out of you. You whine. She smiles, sucks you off her fingertips.
“Don’t worry baby.” She murmurs. Brushes a lock of hair off your sweaty forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Your heart beat slows. She shuffles herself off you.
Wraps herself tight around your waist, drawing you into her.
Your eyes draw to the robes of the floor. The mask. The dagger. Chase is here somewhere, dead in another room. And you just fucked his killer.
Shame floods through you. Your body tenses. She can sense it. She turns you in her arms, pulls you into her bare chest.
“Shh. Don’t look, baby.” She coos. “I’ll clean it up.”
“He’s dead.” You say. More monotone than anything. In the last thirty minutes you’ve felt every possible emotion you could ever feel. You’ve cried every last tear. You’ve fought and struggled and lost against your own desires. You’re exhausted.
“It’s alright, babe.” She senses your resignation. Presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Now it’s just you and me. The way it should be.”
She tilts your face up to hers. You let her press a kiss to your lips. Close your eyes.
“I’m all yours, baby.” She says. “And you’re mine. Forever.”
You nod, slowly.
She is, there’s no point in denying it.
Next part
#scream#jenna ortega#fanfiction#mine#tara carpenter x reader#tara carpenter#ghostface!tara#wednesday#wednesday x reader#ah
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(🔴) ... [ NOW PLAYING ] [ENGENE-MADE] THE LOVE TRIANGLE THAT IS : HEESUHOON !
❛intro❜ : every generation has famous ships , it's inevitable.... but out of all the fourth gen ships , there hasn't been any that comes close the mess of a love triangle that is heesuhoon.
quick heesuhoon analysis: heeseung likes sua , but sunghoon also likes sua , but sua hates love triangles and they both know that but that doesn't stop them , and they think they're being slick but fans are aware and some are team suseung and some are team suhoon , and then theres a portion of them who just want all three of them to get a house together and live there lives until their golden age there (me) and for heehoon to stop being so obviously suspicious of jungwon , because of the small crush he had during i-land...
anyways today we're here to decide who's the best ship , and then it's up to you guys to pick your favorite ship
ROUND ONE !
heeseung tying her shoe for her when she can't do it
example one: *video from a concert* *sua having to sit down during a few concerts because she sustained a injury to her knee and had to wear a cast* *doesn't know her shoe is untied* *heeseung does though* *heeseung mouthing: "your shoe" * *she can't hear* "huh" *bends down in the middle of the concert to tie her shoe* *the rest of enhypen are in complete confusion* *like dawg you are in the middle of the concert🤨*
example two: "unnie , your shoe!" *fan points to her shoes.* "ah! thank you" *about to bend down and tie it* *heeseung is quicker than that though* *bends down* *engenes going crazy* *enhypen once again caught in these two's love story while the staff are in the back gave up telling them to chill out* *sua is flustered* "as expected from heeseung." *jay is annoyed , even though he's captain of the ship*
heeseung: 2 sunghoon: 0
ROUND TWO !
sunghoon always holding her bags for her
example one: "this bag is so annoying , i don't even know why i carry it." *spots a wild sunghoon minding his business*"my shoulders hurt so bad." *sunghoon immediately grabbing the bag* "i told you to stop using this bag , you always get red marks from holding it on your shoulders all day." *holding it in his hand.* "i'll only hold it for a second , then you're getting it back" *aggressive love* *3 hours later: he still has it* *jake notices him holding it on his shoulder now* "bro , she tricked you again?" *he doesn't even care* "yah , her shoulder was hurting , leave me alone." *he was hoodwinked*
example two: *fan video from twitter when they were at the prada event* *sunghoon waiting for her to get out the car* *ladies if he could he would* *finally gets out the car , and they're walking* *sunghoon mouthing: hand me your bag* *look at her smile , she knows she has him wrapped around her finger* *sua mouthing: thanks love* *happy hoonie* *suhooners have a field day with this video every other week*
heeseung: 2 sunghoon: 2
ROUND THREE : !
heeseung giving her his sweater
*sua talking to engenes* *heeseung senses something is wrong* "are you cold?" *he's so cute 😭* "no , im fine." *she's obviously cold* "i told you to wear something warm." *heeseung scolding her as usual* "yah- im not cold" *doesn't want him to win* "fine , next time you should listen* *pouty sua* *she keeps talking , but he can see her shivering* *takes his sweater off , wrapping it around her body* *smiley sua* "i knew you were cold." *look at his smile , that is the look of a man in love*
heeseung: 3 sunghoon : 2
ROUND FOUR !
sunghoon always keeping a sweater for her in his bag
*sua literally past out in the back😭* *sunghoon noticing* "that's because she's up all night playing on her ipad , she never goes to bed on time." *shaking his head like he isn't right beside when she's spamming weverse like a lunatic* "she's probably uncomfortable and cold." *gets up and walks away from the camera* *5 minutes later* *he's back with her sweater , draping it over her body* "she falls asleep anywhere , so you have to keep one at all times." *he says with the most serious face* "cute" *like what sunghoon😭*
heeseung: 3 sunghoon: 3
ROUND FIVE !
suseung being cute
example one: *sua's birthday live* "where are the members? everyone is busy , they said they could've make it , but i'll take the cake home and we'll share it." *look at her frown* "anyway , back to what i was talking about." *5 minutes later* *knock on the door* "oh? who could that be?" *confused sua* *door opens* "i'm li-" *look at how her eyes light up* "what are you doing here" *that smile 💔* "what do you mean?" *it's heeseung !!!* "i came to wish you a happy birthday." *handing her the gift* "what is this?" *embarrassed heeseung* "ah! don't open yet , wait until i leave." *spoiler alert : it was the necklace she really wanted , im fucking sobbing😭* "thank you." *hugs him* *all the suseungers are dying*
example two: *sua and heeseung on a day out* "she forced me to sit in the nail salon for and hour while she got her nails sone." *she bamboozled* "i asked you if you wanted me to wait , i was gonna wait !" *not him just laughing* "anyways , i got these , they're baby pink , and look i got little bow gems." *heeseung cooking up a idea* *smirking* "let me see." *pouty sua* "no" "come on , let me see." *so unaware* "fine , only because they're cute and i want to show them off." *shows him* *grabs her hand and interlocks them* *look how flustered she is* "what are you doing?" *heeseung trying to be innocent* "what" *so fucking cute😭💔*
heeseung: 5 sunghoon: 3
ROUND SIX !
suhoon being cute
example one: *sua doing a live in her room* "i cleaned my room for this , it's normally clothes everywhere" *same love , same* *knock on the door* "give me a minute" *gets up to answer it* "yah , im live." "i know , i was watching on my way home." *sunghoon doesn't care , he's come to disturb her piece* "park sunghoon!" *sits on her bed* "what do you want?" *sits back down* "did you just get home?" *like did she forget she was live , her whole body is turned to him* "hmm , i bought you food." *smiley sua* "thank you." *like the eye contact is killing me* "i'll wait for you to finish , so we can eat together." *and he did , he waited for the entire live 😭*
example two: *vacation content* *sua likes sitting by herself sometimes* *sunghoon likes to sit with sua* "what?" *says nothing* "what do you want?" just grabs her hand , and holds it.* *her face is all red , enhypen staff are literally throwing up rn trying to edit this* *they literally just sit in silence , while he plays with her fingers* *like the rest of the members are literally bouncing off the walls and they're just sitting there*
heeseung: 5 sunghoon: 5
BONUS CLIP OF HEESUHOON IN ACTION !
heehoon both being jealous and ready to kill jungwon ( not literally no jungwons were actually hurt ) *hopefully😀*
"noona." *sua anytime the maknae line calls her that* "ah , cute!" *pinches his cheek* "so cute" *sua calm down , he's not going no where there's no need to be hugging him like that* *jungwon pretending this is his own personal hell , knowing he loves this* *heehoon on the other hand , this is their personal hell* *look at their faces 😳* "yah sua." *heeseung stopping sunghoon from a scandal* *sua hears them , turns around* *notices their expressions* *smiles* *look at them giggling like little school children* *all she did was smile STAND UP*
heeseung: 6 sunghoon: 6
❛outro❜ : there's no winner they both are equally in love with the girl who hates love triangles and they should all just get a house together and live out their days there... but in all serious , who's your favorite ship , suseung or suhoon ?
comment down you fav , and don't forget to like and subscribe for more sua content goodbye 👋🏽
©️ENHA-SUA
#꒰..🪷꒱ sua : content ⊹꒪#kpop added member#kpop reactions#kpop addition#enhypen 8th member#enhypen reactions#kpop female addition#kpop female oc#enhypen added member#kpop female member#enhypen female addition#enhypen female member#8th member of enhypen#enhypen addition#fictional kpop idol#fictional idol addition#fictional idol oc#fictional idol community#enhypen female oc
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The lack of cursed Tim Drake stories/aus is honestly unbelievable.
He grew up in a house full of Archeological findings, mostly alone without any adult supervision.
Anyway. I have one that isn't as angsty as it could be, in which he doesn't get cursed out of maliciously, but because of kindness.
The curse was held in a wolf statue and gifted him the ability to turn into one. But only if his emotions get out of hand. Be it happiness, fear, or anger.
So he trained himself to control his emotions, as his wolf side was quite handy for his bird-watching hobby.
(He also ends up with quite the resting bitch face because of this. It also helped him a lot as Robin)
But he also needs to shift from time to time or else he'll get... a bit irrational.
Then he becomes Robin and Bruce, the best detective in the world, has no idea about his true nature.
The only people that know are Alfred, Cass, and Jason.
Alfred found out on one of his "check ins" With Tim. He used to visit him daily with an nice lunch packet to make sure he was alright and the first time he did, Tim was so surprised that he spawned tail and puppy ears.
Cass is his cuddle buddy. They are like siblings and love each other. Tim is also aware that someone must know. For case of emergency.
Jason wanted to cripple his replacement and got body checked by an overgrown puppy. Like Tim got so happy that his packmate was still alive that he couldn't control himself. The shook was enough to snap him out of the pit madness
(Jason: does dad know?
Tim: dad?
Jason: I meant Bruce.
Tim: ew. That's my boss.)
The rest of the batfamily doesn't know, but is still influenced by his ferral wild side.
Mostly Damian. Because Tim can't take this tiny Puppy seriously. He is a baby and part of his Pack. Tim also doesn't get that he is trying to murder him. He seriously thinks that Damian is initiating play fights and he, as a good big brother, indulges in it. These playfights are actually pretty good for Damian.
It helps with his murderous tendencies and it became more playing than fighting quickly.
These Play Fights help a lot with stress and anxiety for the both of them.
Dick isn't aware that they are playing. He seriously thinks that they dislike each other as if Tim wouldn't pull Damian into Bruces' bed whenever they had a bad patrol.
Also, his relationship with dick is a lot more open.
He gets that he sounded like a lunatic. He understands that Damian is the new pack puppy that needs to be watched 24/7.
But he also knows that his big brother loves him a lot and that he gives the best hugs. He loves him with all his heart and trusts him with his life.
Tim is protective of Duke. He is still new to the pack and the villigate life. That he patrols all alone gives him a lot of anxiety and he often follows him in wolf form. Duke thinks that he is a lost stray and always has some jerky for him.
The only person that Tim has a bit of a problem is Bruce. Because he is eternally torn between "this is a work relationship and he is my boss" and "Papa who gives me loving head pats". It's a real struggle for him.
#batfamily#Au#shifter au#tim wayne#tim drake#shifter tim drake#red robin#damian wayne#good sibling damian#robin damian#robin#damian al ghul#jason todd#red hood#titans towe au#dick grayson#nightwing#bruce wayne#batman
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Pairings: blade x reader | jing yuan x reader
Synopsis: After a tragedy that consumed two of his companions, the face that he secretly longed for unexpectedly appeared before him once again. But this time his heart is filled with hate.
Tags: angst | stellaron hunter! reader | enemies to lovers | past tragedies
a/n: can I say the stellaron hunters are the coolest faction ever. like its where badass bitches belong! | i'll release jing yuan's route some time later lmaoo i'm so bored i do shit like this | trying out my favs with fav/popular tropes while i still have the brain
During that time when Blade got caught by the Xianzhou, you felt like your heart leaped out of your chest as soon as you heard the news from Kafka, who was sporting a rather laid-back smile.
"What? Don't look at me like that. Bladie is going to be fine. He's a big guy now." she said while going through your own collection of coats, something you picked up while shopping with her and the guy that follows behind like a guard dog.
He always looked at you with a scowl when you were a new recruit. Simply speaking, if looks could kill, you'd be dead long before this unserious turn of events...where Kafka also got caught. Yet this time upon silently watching the fiasco from somewhere, you're not the least bit worried. How could you when the woman herself was smiling like a maniac as she was caught by the master diviner. You seriously think it's time for you to leave this group of wild lunatics who casually gets taken as prisoners.
As you sigh and leave, Kafka's voice suddenly rings in your ear.
"Be patient, Elio will talk to you soon about a very important mission."
A mission that entails "saving" her but unfortunately, Blade had escaped and is standing before you with the usual expression on his face. Sure, this guy probably carries a lot of baggage but you can't help but feel uncomfortable with him. Especially when a little fight occurs between the two of you about who gets to save Kafka.
"What are you doing? Elio tasked me with this. I met him!"
"..."
Then he suddenly takes off while you follow after him, taking down enemies behind like some kind of sidekick while he attempts to take the spotlight of appearing before the trailblazers. But of course, you don't let him. You remain firm in doing what Elio told you, glaring at Blade while holding off the pursuers together.
You roll your eyes as he acts a little goofy in your sight, acting all charismatic with his sword drawn and all that. You even failed to hold your laughter with the way he dove, quickly pulling out your phone to snap a photo of Blade, then sending it to Silver Wolf because you're too scared of the consequences if you dare send it to the group chat. Blade might actually kill you if that happens.
look at him, he looks so stupid
But unbeknownst to you, the general himself saw you that time, and for him, it seemed like everything stopped and faded into the background. Your swaying hair and glowing eyes were what stood out at first. But then—you also had a face that eerily resembled someone from his past.
It is now revealed to the Xianzhou that the Stellaron Hunters aren't threats. You had no reason to come back to the Luofu anymore, it's all up to their alliance on what to do with the problem they're currently facing. The Stellaron Hunters had done their part as Kafka had said, but before you could board the spacecraft, you suddenly voiced out your decision—or rather, Elio's decision for you.
It felt ridiculous, really, listening to someone and doing whatever they tell you like a dog. It didn't feel good to you but as soon as you landed in the Luofu, something pulled you to stay there just as Elio had said.
"I'm staying. You guys should go ahead."
Kafka turned to you with a little smile on her face, seemingly understanding the situation. But surprisingly, Blade stiffly turned and had an unreadable expression on his face. He seemed mad—his furrowed eyebrows were a clear indication.
"Why?!" he's a man of few words but this single question made his voice akin to a roar. Even Kafka turned and boarded the craft, leaving you and Blade alone.
"Why not? Elio told me." You lied, he never told you to stay. Yes, he had an influence with his persuading words. But naturally, you'll take this route to feed on your curiosity because it always feels like there are missing pieces inside you. "I'll be staying here and that's final. It's none of your concern." You said while crossing your arms and Blade's eyes squinted.
You saw that he has his fists clenched, veins popping out as you raised your brows, also getting mad at whatever show he was putting on.
"What is it to you? Can't the Stellaron Hunters function without me?" And when he doesn't reply, you just roll your eyes and waved to leave.
Blade watches you go farther and farther until you're a dot in his sight, just like the moment when you followed after the woman who made him suffer over and over again. Your cold lifeless eyes and your face lined with blood as you watched the life drain out of him will forever be a memory that haunts him.
You weren't one of them. But when he saw you once again in this lifetime, he decided...that you'll also have to pay the price.
#ok bye im tired#who did this to you is coming soon#i refuse to remove that from the narrative#honkai star rail headcanons#blade x reader#blade x reader angst#blade x you#honkai star rail x you#hsr x you#hsr headcanons#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail blade#honkai star rail#hsr angst#hsr x reader#blade x y/n#honkai star rail imagines#hsr imagines
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Just a casual question: What lightsaber style do you prefer out of one-handed, two-handed, double-bladed or dual wielding?
We’ll leave out the Lightsaber Forms from the EU, because they are inconsistently defined between sources.
No, no, no. You ask me what my favorite lightsaber is, you get the answer whether you want it or not. The answer may surprise you. It’s (probably) considered the second dumbest lightsaber weapon ever invented in the extended universe with the exception of the lightsaber nunchaku.
Are you ready? Do you have your guesses?
The Lightwhip.
The chosen weapon of Dark Ladies of the Sith and the Nightsisters of Dathomir back when the Sisters weren’t all dark side practitioners and rode rancors.
(This is my favorite. For reference, Starke’s favorite is single blade Form IV: Ataru. He’s boring.)
Now, I agree with the general fandom that the lightwhip is a dumb, impractical weapon that’s more likely to dismember its wielder than it is their opponent. Only someone with a high level of skill, prescience, and telekinesis could make effective use of a lightwhip’s dismemberment murder frenzy without killing themselves. Fortunately, that’s exactly the base level of skills most Force sensitives possess. Probably most important, the lightwhip is the exact sort of dumb we see with real weapons in the real world. This includes the more wild examples like the urumi, the chain whip, and the three-section staff. And, it should be said, I have watched living black belts concuss themselves with the three-section staff while trying to figure out how to use it. All for the Rule of Cool. So, while I accept its impracticality, I refuse the argument that the lightwhip being any more unrealistic in use or invention than the rest of the lightsaber weapon family. Does it have a high skill floor? Absolutely. Is it a safe weapon compared to the rest of its very dangerous family? Absolutely not. Would a student potentially dismember or murder themselves learning to use it? Yes, and that’s why it’s fun. (I’ll add a small caveat that the average student could also dismember themselves with a normal lightsaber, so this isn’t just a danger posed by the lightwhip.)
The lightwhip is a weapon of the Dark Side. Its battle style would be (and should be) wild, chaotic, and nigh uncontrollable. There’s no way to use it safely and it belongs in the hands of a wielder who is straight up thrilled to cut down both their allies and enemies in equal measure. This is the weapon of a murderous lunatic in black leather, and gets even more wild when it switches to a Cat o’ Nine to bring on nine weaving laser tendrils instead of just one. The lightwhip is the sexy Catwoman reference that transcends its genre when we really start to think about how intimidating it’d be to see that thing on the battlefield in the hands of a novice and, especially, an expert.
The standard use for a whip in the real world is as a support tool for your primary weapon, such as a rapier. The whip doesn’t do much damage on its own, leaving only small, painful cuts and lacerations so it transitions into a means of harassment. The advantage of the whip is that it attacks at odd, circular angles which are difficult (if not impossible) to block and will curve into a strike around the opposing weapon. The rippling movement makes it difficult to see and even more difficult to predict. If kept in constant motion, this difficulty triples because the disparate movements blend together.
Now, take this setup and add the lightshow. Instead of a weapon that does light lacerations, we have a weapon that deals massive burns if it doesn’t straight up dismember. It will cut through everything and everyone. Conventional fighting styles fall apart against it. More importantly, because it is a burning plasma ribbon, it doesn’t need to follow the standard rules of physics. The lightwhip is beautiful in its raw, chaotic brutality, it’s high risk, high reward nature, and I love the way it hard counters the standard philosophy of lightsaber combat with a literal curveball. Any opponent who faces it is forced into new, creative approaches for their very survival.
Lastly, I love what the lightwhip says about its wielder as an expression of their vicious, ferocious, highly aggressive personality. This weapon requires commitment and dedication. It’s absolutely fair to say the person who wields a lightwhip has a fanatical, if not suicidal, bent. After all, they’d willingly risk death to master it. They love destruction. They don’t care about outside consequences or property destruction. They go it alone.
I’ll admit the lightwhip’s true potential is too violent for most of Star Wars and, like most Star Wars weapons, it very much lives on the Rule of Cool. One of the sadder aspects with the lightwhip is that, while I love the weapon and its potential, any discussion of it gets mired in sexism. Every appearance of the lightwhip comes with the sexy NSFW Dark Side Dominatrix bent and leads to the lightwhip not being given the consideration it’s potential deserves.
My favorite saber is Darth Maul’s saber staff from The Phantom Menace, because versatility allows for use of both one and two. My favorite lightsaber form (which should now surprise no one) is Form VII: Vaapad.
All that said, I do enjoy a good Dark Side Dominatrix as much as I enjoy a moody and hooded Dark Side Goth. And I genuinely love dumb and, seemingly, impractical weapons when the reward justifies their risk. If there’s a general writing advice takeaway here, always consider the practicality of an impractical but cool weapon, address i’s rewards as well as its risks, and pair it with a suitable personality. The lightwhip is not a weapon that belongs in the hands of a Jedi or, really, any individual who possesses any degree of restraint. It’s for a character who merrily expresses raw, raging power at every opportunity and willing to risk destroying themselves along with everyone else for victory.
There’s a weird angle with the Star Wars EU where they tried to establish the lightwhip as weaker than the lightsaber (*cough* woman’s weapon *cough*) with less cutting power even when it doesn’t use a physical cord, which makes absolutely no sense. The lightsaber is the more versatile weapon, while the lightwhip is more specialized and circumstantial. Which fits with the patterns of real world weapons technology.
This a long circle round to saying that the weapons we choose for our characters act as personality tells. Which is why it’s important to give a lot of thought and consideration to any weapon’s historic use and purpose before attaching it. Weapons communicate more than we might expect, both via their situational viability and associated cultural myths. It’s important to choose whether you’ll address this, especially if you’re not planning to intentionally communicate that message or make those personality traits part of the character’s identity. Weapons are tools and, like with all tools, different tools attract different personalities. In fiction, we the authors often decide this from an external perspective. Once a choice has been made, always give yourself a chance to think about it from a character’s internal perspective. Why did Character X choose this weapon? Why do they want to use it? What does this weapon do for them that another weapon doesn’t? Or, what makes that other weapon less attractive?
You might find yourself with an answer or story beat you hadn’t previously considered.
Food for thought.
-Michi
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#star wars#lightsabers#michi answers#writing advice#writing reference#writing tips#how to fight write
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Valeria - Angel Reyes x Reader
Tagging: @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @callsignartemis @kmc1989 @witches-unruly-heart @keyweegirlie @annetje @infinity-mars @danzer8705 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @appreciatelove @the-wandering-lunatic @weiwei0210 @anime-weeb-4-life @multifandomloversworld @harperdoodle @est1887 @prettyinpunk85 @thanossexual @briefpersonenemy @creativitybeware @librarian1002 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @spaghettificationandpretzels @nu1freakshow @thebaileybugle @legally-a-bastard @bonsaijoons @sclitvdes @justreblogginfics @irishavengersassemble @keyweegirlie
It’s late when Angel makes it home, later than he intended to be. The house is already lit up and the porch light is on, beckoning him inside. He loves coming home to this, knowing that there’s someone waiting for him, someone who cares about him, who wants to hear about his day. He shuts the front door behind him, bending down to untie the laces of his boots before he toes them off carefully and sets them alongside your smaller ones.
He's been thinking of asking you to move in with him. It’s been almost nine months and he’s more than ready, the only reason he hasn’t done it sooner is because you’re a little skittish. You’ve told him before that you’re always waiting for the other shoe to drop. He hopes that you see you don’t have to worry about that with him. That he’s steady, that he wants a place in your life and he’s here to stay.
“Hey baby, sorry I’m late.” he hollers as he treads through the hallway towards the kitchen. He knows you’re probably in there, sitting at the table running through your list of things to do. “We were talking about the food drive this weekend, Bish was worried we wouldn’t have enough bodies…”
He trails off, his hand coming to rest on the door frame as he surveys the sight in front of him.
“I found this on the doorstep.” You tell him, tipping your head towards the car seat and the diaper bag sitting on the kitchen table. “Along with those.”
You’re holding a baby.
She’s tiny, not more than a few weeks old, wrapped up in a white fleece blanket with yellow ducks embroidered into it. There’s a tuft of dark hair sticking out of her head, something that he recognises from his own baby pictures. His heart fucking breaks because he knows, he just knows that this is his baby.
“There’s a note.” You say, swaying from side to side gently as the infant begins to gripe. You hush her and she begins to sooth as you continue with the motion.
He edges towards the table, his fingers picking up the envelop that’s already been torn open. He doesn’t begrudge you that, he would have done the same thing. There’s a letter and a birth certificate tucked inside. He takes them both and smooths them upon the surface of the table along side each other. He studies the birth certificate first.
Her name is Valeria and she’s three weeks old.
His fingertip trails down the paper until he reaches the line where both of the parents are listed. He sees his name scrawled by a registrar along side the word ‘Father’. He puts both of his hands on the back of his head as he breathes the word ‘fuck’.
“Don’t swear in front of the baby.” You murmur, your voice a low, even tone.
“Sorry.” He finds himself saying.
This is so fucking surreal; he can’t wrap his head around it. His gaze strays to the ‘Mother’ column and he sees the name Skylar Rixton listed. Who the fuck…
And then he remembers.
Sky.
The bike bunny he’d fucked a couple of weeks before he met you. She’d been tending bar for a few weeks, a friend of Jess’s. Things had gotten a little wild that night in the Clubhouse, he’d been knocking back tequila trying to drown out the self-loathing that was gnawing at his insides and she’d put herself directly in his path. He’s woken up the next morning with a scratched up back and Sky trying to tempt an encore out of him. He’d stopped it in it’s tracks because he could already see that she was getting attached and Angel didn’t do strings.
She’d taken off a couple of months later after he’d started seeing you.
He read the letter next, and it confirms his suspicions. She’d discovered she was pregnant not long after he’d met you. Decided to raise the kid on her own, then discovered it wasn’t as easy as she thought.
She’s your problem now, the letter said.
“I didn’t know.” He tells you as he raises from his seat at the table.
“It doesn’t matter.” You say, your head tilted away from him.
Your hair falls across your features so he can’t see the expression on your face. He realises that this is the other shoe, that the very thing he promised not to do to you is happening right now and he is powerless to stop it.
“Angel, you need to take you daughter.” You tell him.
Your voice is soft, but he can still hear the hurt in it. It feels like he’s being stabbed in the chest because the last thing he ever wanted was for you to become a casualty of his recklessness.
You’re careful as you hand him the baby. He reacts instinctively, shifting the weight of the tiny infant until she sits comfortably in his arms, her fists flailing just a little.
“You’re alright.” He tells her, his voice kind as he starts to sway. “I’ve got you.”
He doesn’t realise you’ve left until he hears the front door closing behind you. He doesn’t remember you saying anything, only the absence of your presence as he finds himself standing alone in his kitchen with his daughter cradled in his arms. He swallows hard past the ache in his chest, his eyes stinging because he knows he fucked up.
This may be the beginning for him and Valeria but it’s the end of him and you.
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The Lord of Dunholm
Note: this is just a silly little fic, obviously the legal details are off, but who cares.
Warnings: none.
pairing: SKMD!Sihtric x modern cop!you (f)
summary: you were called in to check out a situation at Durham castle.
wordcount: 7,9k
Masterlist
You were a rookie cop, desperate to prove yourself to your peers and to eventually earn a promotion. You knew you were doing a good job, but you were often forced to take those jobs that the experienced cops didn't like or simply felt too good for. One of those jobs was dealing with so called nutcases; people who often were innocent as they were usually simply confused because of their own mind, which wasn't their fault at all. They were a slight pain to deal with but someone had to do it, and today wouldn't be any different. You sat in your police car early afternoon when your radio sounded, and you heard the voice of one of your colleagues.
'There is an, ehhhh… caucasian male swinging an… axe and a sword outside of Durham castle. He has shoulder length hair, wavy and dark, he seems well built and he's wearing a brown… eh, fur cloak. Apparently his eyes are two different colours, one brown and one blue. He also has a large scar on his forehead and a smaller scar on his right cheek. You, eh, you really can't miss him, over.'
You stared at your radio, you knew this was a task for you as it sounded like once again someone had lost their mind, but since it was at a big public castle you thought it was a joke-
'This is not a joke and he is not part of the castle, over.'
You made a face at the radio and started your car, driving over to the castle to see what the fuss was all about. As you pulled up to the castle's parking lot you were greeted by frightened people who ran for their lives, on what was supposed to be a fun day out for them. It was complete madness and some of the panicked fathers pointed you in the direction of the axe and sword swinging "lunatic". You parked your car and then you saw him, exactly as he was described over the radio, not a word had been lied. You watched the rather handsome man shout angrily at the people who hid behind the glass windows of the ticket office, and then the castle's security guard ran up to your car. You were startled when the security guard banged on your car window as you were staring at the angry man near the entrance, and you rolled your window down enough to hear the guard speak.
'Thank god, you're here,' the guard panted, 'this guy has been here for half an hour already, claiming he's the Lord of Dunholm or something and he wants his land back.'
'What?' you scoffed, 'his land back? You're serious?'
'I swear I'm not making it up. He somehow got inside the castle and I found him when he was grabbing that axe and the sword off the wall. I managed to get him outside, you know, for the safety of the guests, but that's when he really lost his mind because he wasn't allowed back inside anymore. This guy is insane. I'm… I'm out of here,' the guard said, and he followed the other people that ran far away from the castle, leaving you baffled and rather confused.
You took a deep breath and got out of your car, then walked over to the "Lord", hand on your taser as you slowly approached him. You managed to sneak around him without being noticed while he had his back turned towards the entrance, looking wild and confused at the people who filmed him with their cellphones. This wasn't your first rodeo with a violent person, but something made you a nervous wreck out of nowhere as you got a better look at him, and you tried your best to keep your voice from trembling.
'Sir!' you shouted, earning his attention, and he turned around to look at you with rage in his eyes, 'l-lower your weapons, sir,' you demanded, although not very convincing.
'I demand entrance!' the man grunted as he raised his axe.
'Lower your weapons!' you demanded again.
'I shall do no such thing, lady! I merely want access to my home, I do not wish to fight. Now stand aside!' the Lord yelled at you, but you didn't budge.
'Sir, lower-'
'I said stand aside!' he shouted again, heated.
'Sir, if you take one more step I have to taser you,' you warned him.
'What?'
'I will have to taser you, sir! What is your name?'
'Sihtric Kjartansson!' he snarled.
'Sihtric Kjartansson?' you frowned, that was the oddest name you had ever heard in this day and age.
'Son of Kjartan the Cruel, who used to rule here. I helped kill him a while ago and this place is mine now! So let me in or I swear I will ram this gate!'
'Okay, eh,' you cleared your throat, not really sure what to do with this man, 'S-Sihtric-'
'That's Lord Sihtric!' he hissed as he stalked towards you.
You took a few steps back when the threatening man neared you, and you ordered him to drop his weapons once again, but he didn't listen.
'Sihtric, I will tase you if you take another step closer! I mean it!'
You stared at him as he ignored your last warning, and you grabbed your taser. You pointed it towards the angry and lost looking man as he came closer, and with shaking hands you pressed the button, releasing the probes. You watched the probes attach to the wild man's clothing and sparks were flying, but the man didn't freeze and fall due to the shocks he received. In fact, nothing seemed to happen, he only seemed to stop walking to look down at the probes and the several sparks that were created.
'Holy shit,' you gasped as you stared at Sihtric, who was still standing and you both stared at the useless pulses from your taser.
You wondered how much drugs this guy had taken to be completely oblivious to the shocks your weapon created, and you watched Sihtric with your jaw dropped as he threw down his sword to yank the probes off his cloak, and he threw them on the ground while they were still giving off shocks. You slightly panicked as Sihtric stepped closer, still holding his axe which he was about to raise as he got within an arm's reach from you. But then he suddenly stopped and froze, he clenched his jaw while a strangled moan sounded in his throat as his left eye twitched. You stared at him with big eyes and then realised he had stepped onto the probes with his boots, which were old and worn and apparently not thick enough to withhold the pulses of your taser, and he collapsed to his knees. He fell forward as your taser gave one last shock, which caused a few more sparks to fly, and then everything became silent.
With the help of some backup you had managed to get Sihtric handcuffed and in the back of your car. He was still rather dazed from receiving the taser stun and you could tell he was not pleased as you saw he was glaring at you from the backseat whenever you looked in your mirror. He didn't speak at all, but you could tell he became more confused and frightened the more he became clear headed again, and you wondered why he looked so spooked.
At the station you struggled to get him out of your car. You had opened the door for him but Sihtric simply refused to get out, unless he got to speak to your king. You said you couldn't possibly arrange that, but that he could speak with your superior. Sihtric refused your offer and said, 'I will not set foot out of this carriage, lady.' You once again had to ask for some help from your colleagues, who were rather amused at your catch of the day.
When you finally had Sihtric in a holding cell, you grabbed a chair and sat across from him, as it was now your job to figure out who this guy was and what he wanted, but it turned out to be more complicated than you expected. You had searched him for any form of ID, but he had nothing on him except for a small sachet with silver coins in it, which had no value to you unless you planned on opening a medieval coin museum. After searching him you also understood why the taser didn't work when you first fired it, as he was wearing leather armour underneath his fur cloak, which raised even more questions.
'So, Sihtric,' you said, 'tell me what happened today, hm? Why were you swinging your weapons at the castle?'
'Because it is my land,' Sihtric hissed.
'Your land? Why do you believe it is your land?' you asked, confused yet mildly entertained.
'I fought for it, it is my land. I own it.'
You stared at Sihtric and exhaled sharply, realising you weren't going to get a clear answer on your first question.
'Tell me where are you from?'
'Dunholm.'
'Dunholm?'
'Yes, lady. I am the Lord of Dunholm.'
'Do you mean… Durham?' you furrowed your brow as you looked at him.
'What?'
'You are from Durham?'
'I am from Dunholm, lady,' Sihtric said, agitated, and he tugged the handcuffs you had chained to the table, 'release me. Release me at once or there will be consequences!'
'I'm… afraid I can't do that. Where did you get your weapons?'
'I bought them.'
'Where?'
'In Bebbanburg.'
'Bebban-,' you stopped and shook your head, once again confused, 'you mean Bamburgh?'
'I said Bebbanburg, lady,' Sihtric hissed again and leaned over the table, like a predator eyeing up his prey, 'do you not understand me? I have bought them but found them placed up on a wall inside the castle. I do not know how they got there, but I retrieved them.'
'And how did you get inside the castle?'
'I live there. I simply stepped through a door and suddenly… suddenly everything was the same but also very different. And then I saw my weapons, which I took, and then some man began to tell me I could not touch my weapons. I told him to make the square but instead he forced me outside,' Sihtric sighed, 'and then they would not grant me entry again.'
You weren't sure what to say. You indeed did not quite understand him, but you couldn't tell him that, he could use that to his advantage and you really didn't want to screw up the possible case you had in your hands.
'Okay, I'm going to need some prints,' you said and reached for his hands.
You were startled when Sihtric suddenly flinched and yanked his hands away from yours, hurting his wrists in the process due to the handcuffs, and when you looked into his eyes you felt your heart break. You suddenly realised that this man was not fooling around and you believed he was not lying. You could read people, it was your main talent, and Sihtric's mismatched eyes spoke the truth. He was terrified but didn't show it on his face, and he felt utterly lost and confused, you could tell, but he would never confess that to you or anyone else.
'It's okay,' you said, calmly, 'I'm not… I won't hurt you. I promise.'
Sihtric looked at you with his big eyes, which were completely fixated on you as you got up and moved your chair next to his. You could tell he was hesitant to believe you, so you tried to explain to him what you were going to do.
'I need to take your hands and press your fingers onto this ink pad, okay? And then I will press your fingers on this piece of paper,' you said and pointed towards the tools on the table.
You waited for Sihtric to take in your words, and when he slowly nodded for you to go ahead, you reached out for his hand again. This time he didn't pull away, as you approached him slowly, and he allowed you to take his hand and press each of his tattooed fingers onto the ink pad and then on the paper. You carefully collected his prints, and you felt your cheeks heat up slightly as a strange sensation rushed through your stomach each time you touched him. And Sihtric didn't seem to mind your gentle touch either, as he just stared at you with wide eyes while you both felt the air become thick inside the holding cell. You sat back after you had collected all his prints and cleared your throat, breaking the tension that lingered.
'I, eh, I will run these now. I will be back in a moment.'
You were quick to get up, and as you waited for his results to come up and expose who Sihtric really was and where he came from, your mind kept wandering off to his pretty duo-coloured eyes, the feeling of his rough hands and the sound of his warm, smooth voice. You were intrigued by him, but as he was somewhat of a problem right now, your problem to be more specific, you cursed yourself for thinking he was incredibly handsome.
'It's always the weirdos,' you sighed as you remembered your poor track record of ex-boyfriends.
You were abruptly pulled from your thoughts when the results came in, and you were confused when the screen showed you that zero matches had been found.
'Surely this guy has a record already,' you muttered and ran his prints again.
You scoffed when the results were negative again, and you grabbed a DNA swab kit on your way back to the unknown man you had tasered about an hour ago. You also brought Sihtric a plastic cup of water, as you noticed his lips were rather chapped when you sat close to him so you figured he could use some fresh water. You placed the cup in front of him, and Sihtric carefully inspected the white plastic while you prepared your DNA kit. And just as you looked up and wanted to explain how you were going to swab his DNA, you saw how Sihtric leaned in and reached for the plastic cup. When his face was almost close enough to take a sip, he grabbed the cup firmly as if it was a jug of ale, and a shocked gasp left his mouth when the cup crushed under the pressure of his grip, and the water splashed in his face, his hair and over his cloak. He looked surprised and stared at you while the water dripped down his face, and he only blinked when you desperately tried to hold your laugh. You quickly got him some tissues and helped him dry his face, his hair and his cloak while he was still handcuffed to the table.
'Thank you,' Sihtric mumbled shyly when you sat back again, 'it seems I am not aware of my own strength.'
'That must be it,' you chuckled and fought a grin.
He was the most peculiar man, and a charming one too, but it seemed he was also not the brightest, which amused you greatly.
'Anyway,' you said and moved closer to him again, 'the fingerprints were no success, so I'll have to take a DNA sample.'
'A what?' Sihtric leaned back quickly when you held up the swab stick, and he looked at the stick as if it was something foreign, 'where does that go, woman?' he asked mortified, 'what does it do?'
'I will take a sample from the inside of your cheek. It doesn't hurt, I promise.'
Sihtric gave you a confused look, and you didn't know how else to explain it to him.
'You… you just need to open your mouth for me,' you said.
'By the gods, lady,' Sihtric scoffed, 'those words have never been spoken to me before by a woman.'
'Excuse me?'
'I usually tell a lady to open their m-'
'Okay!' you quickly interrupted, 'I think we are speaking of two different things here. Just, Christ,' you groaned, 'open your mouth, please.'
Sihtric gave you a sudden cheeky grin, and he politely obeyed. Your own mouth went dry and your heart was beating with such force you heard it in your ears as you gently held his chin while you took a sample. Sihtric made a face when you were done, and he awkwardly pressed his tongue in his cheek and then licked his lips repeatedly at the odd feeling the swab stick had left him. You thanked him and hoped he didn't see your flushed face before you quickly left the room again to run his sample.
When moments later you once again received zero results, you turned to your boss for help. You explained to him the situation and told him everything that had happened. You couldn't confirm who Sihtric was, nor where he was from or where he lived, all you knew was that he hadn't actually threatened to kill people and he hadn't harmed anyone. He just seemed… not from this time. After quite some time of discussion about what to do next, you were told you had to let Sihtric go as you couldn't charge him. Sihtric was about to be a free man again, but he just couldn't have his weapons back and he had to come back within a week to show his passport and a proof of residence.
'Will you be okay out there?' you asked while you uncuffed him, 'where will you go?'
Sihtric shrugged lightly and told you he didn't know yet, which didn't sit well with you. Regardless of your gut feeling, you released the insanely handsome "Lord" and guided him out of the police station. You watched him as he crossed the street, completely ignoring the traffic light as he continued to walk, and you held your breath when he almost got hit by a car, after which you heard him shout to the shocked driver to make the square. Whatever that meant.
Hours later when your shift was over you drove home. On your way back you passed Durham castle, and you couldn't believe your eyes when you saw Sihtric sitting almost completely in the dark, under a tree, near the closed castle entrance. You stopped your car and slowly approached him by foot while his eyes were glued to the castle.
'Sihtric?'
He jumped and looked up, his eyes telling you he felt caught.
'Lady,' he said and cleared his throat.
'What are you doing here?'
'Nothing,' Sihtric replied, a little too quick for it to be innocent.
'Sihtric,' you chuckled and looked at the castle entrance, 'surely you weren't planning on climbing the walls, were you?'
'No, I'd need a ladder for that,' Sihtric grumbled and shook his head.
You stared at each other and then both broke into soft laughter. You looked at him and his body language, and when adding it up to everything that had happened that day as well as the way he spoke and dressed, you couldn't help but feel that he had never lied to you about anything he had told you. And slowly your laugh made place for a saddened, concerned look.
'This really is your land, isn't it?'
Sihric gave you a sad nod, 'It is, yet I don't truly recognise it. Nor the people who live here now. It is the same but also… not. And I don't understand it.'
'I don't understand it either,' you gave him a compassionate look, 'but, Sihtric, you can't stay here. Soon the temperature will be below zero.'
'But this is my home, lady. I have no other place to go.'
You looked around the empty parking lot and sighed. Your next move went against everything you've learned and believed, but you couldn't just leave him like that. You hesitantly told him to get in the car, which he initially did not want to do because he thought you were going to handcuff him again. When you finally convinced him, after several long minutes, you drove him to the nearest hotel and walked up to the welcome desk.
'I would like to book one room for this man for a few nights,' you told the hotel employee.
Everything seemed fine for a moment. Sihtric was just gazing around the place while you filled in the form for his stay, but you froze when you saw that the person who paid for the stay was held responsible for the state of the room. You weren't going to stay there with him, in one room, but you also worried about leaving him alone now that everything would come down on you. He carried no more weapons but you still had no idea what he was capable of, and having to pay for a trashed hotel room was not something you wanted to do in your free weekend. And since the payment was in your name, if he would do something worse than just trash the room and perhaps harm someone, it could even cost you your job. You apologised to the hotel employee and told her that maybe it was better if he resided somewhere else, and you left. Sihtric didn't quite understand what was going on when you pulled him back to your car, but he got in regardless.
'What is this carriage?' he eventually asked as you drove him to your house.
'This is a car.'
'Car?'
'Yes.'
Sihtric looked at you but didn't say anything anymore, and then he just stared out of the window. When you finally walked him to the front door of your house, you stopped and turned to him before you opened the door.
'Look, you can stay in my house for a day or two, but there will be some rules. Don't forget that I can arrest you again if you do something weird or try anything with me, you got that?'
Sihtric nodded, not truly understanding you but he somehow had gotten to like your presence and you in general. Once inside you were greeted by your dog, Thor, an Alaskan Malamute, and Sihtric took several steps back when the dog approached out of nowhere. Sihtric watched how you knelt down and hugged your beloved pet, and he had to admit he was fascinated by the size of the animal.
'Impressive beast,' he said.
'Thank you,' you chuckled, 'he's my best friend, really.'
'How much, woman?'
'Excuse me?'
'How much for the dog?'
'Eh, he's… he's not for sale.'
'But I offer silver. I offer you twenty pieces of silver.'
'Sihtric,' you chuckled and got back up, 'he's not for sale. You can't buy him.'
'Very well,' Sihtric sniffed, 'how much for you, lady?'
'I beg your pardon?'
'I am a man,' Sihtric shrugged, 'and I have needs.'
You scoffed and your mouth fell open at the audacity of him.
'You're a pig,' you said, disgusted, 'and you should be ashamed of yourself!'
Sihtric had been rather baffled at your insult, but he had forgotten about it all when he laid down on your couch after he had stripped himself down to his breeches. You had thrown him a blanket and told him to go sleep, you'd figure things out in the morning, and you also told him he was not allowed to get into your bedroom. You had left the door slightly open, knowing your dog was sleeping right outside of your room and if the strange man on your couch would try to harm you, Thor would not hesitate to attack. And with that thought you eventually fell asleep.
It was about ten in the morning when you woke up the next day, and when you slowly opened your eyes and blinked you were frightened when you found Sihtric staring at you as he sat crouched down next to your bed. A terrified shriek left your mouth and you both jumped up while Sihtric also yelped at your reaction.
'What the fuck are you doing?!' you screamed.
'I am sorry, lady!' Sihtric yelled as he had backed himself up against your book cabinet, knocking over a few titles.
'What is wrong with you!' you huffed and quickly covered yourself up with your blankets.
'I am sorry!' he said again, 'but a strange kind of sound woke me up a while ago already. I don't know where it came from.'
You tried to understand him and it took you a few seconds to realise he was woken up by your phone, as you had set an alarm for eight and had forgotten your phone on the table next to the couch. You then apologised and explained what had woken him up, and although he didn't fully understand it, he left it at that.
'But why on earth are you in my room, Sihtric?!' you yelled when you remembered you were still in your bedroom.
'Well, I was just admiring your beauty as I couldn't sleep, my lady,' he said with a sly smile.
'Oh,' you mumbled and blushed, feeling bad for having shouted at him while also still feeling slightly freaked out. But you couldn't deny you felt flattered too, as he was possibly the most handsome man you had ever seen, despite the fact that he smelled like mud and grass, and you said he should take a wash, to which he agreed.
'Also,' Sihtric said before he left your room, 'it seems that the beast has destroyed my boots in the night. I require a new pair.'
You had managed to gather some decent clothes for Sihtric because, luckily, your next door neighbour had some shoes in his size he could borrow until you'd get him new ones today, and he also had some black sweatpants to spare, as well as a grey hoodie. After Sihtric got dressed you took his hand and pulled him to the mirror, where he stared at himself and his messy hair. At first he looked concerned, but then he grinned.
'Not bad,' he chuckled and turned to give you a wink.
You shyly agreed, and then he suddenly took your hand and pulled you flush against his body. He wrapped his arms around you while he looked at both your reflection in the mirror.
'Hey,' you chuckled, 'what… what are you doing?'
'That's us, right?'
'Yes,' you said and looked at the mirror too.
You saw Sihtric's eyes light up as he took in the sight of you in his arms.
'We look good together,' he smiled shyly, 'marry me?'
'What?' your eyes grew wide.
'Marry me? You can be my lady. We'll be the Lord and Lady of Dunholm.'
'Eh,' you laughed and felt yourself blush heavily, 'that's… a bit unusual and fast, isn't it?'
You looked up at him, and before you knew it Sihtric had cupped your cheeks and pulled you in for a firm kiss. You froze at the sudden feeling of his chapped lips onto your smooth ones, but when he didn't pull away you eagerly grabbed onto his borrowed hoodie and kissed him back. And barely even having recovered from kissing the handsome stranger, he already threw another question at you which you weren't prepared for.
'Will you stay with me?'
'What?' you paused and shook your head, 'Sihtric… I-'
'Please?' he asked, a spark of hope flickered in his eyes as he held you tight again while he stared into your eyes.
And instead of replying with words, something seemed to take over and you pulled him in for another kiss. And it seemed that ever since that moment Sihtric couldn't keep his hands off you anymore.
Sihtric clung onto your hand as you walked down the busy shopping street. Segways and electric scooters zoomed past you, to which Sihtric looked spooked and confused, and he jumped each time a car honked or a phone rang nearby.
'I don't understand,' he said, bewildered, 'there is so much noise. Why is there so much noise? And where are the horses? Why is no one riding horses?'
'Horses?' you laughed, 'horses haven't been used for transport like that for ages.'
'Ages?' Sihtric scoffed, 'lady, it has only been one day.'
You weren't sure how to respond, so you just squeezed his hand in the hope of giving him some comfort. You still didn't quite understand how he had ended up here, but that he somehow came from a different time than you was the one thing you were sure about. You continued your walk, hands locked together tightly, when suddenly you approached a market that had been set up for the weekend.
'Ah!' Sihtric smiled when he finally seemed to recognise something, 'a market!'
You strolled between the stalls, looking at the fruits, vegetables, clothing and some second hand items. Sihtric's eye caught a stall that sold shiny jewellery, and it was almost as if he had turned into a magpie. He couldn't be torn away from the stall and you looked around for a moment, while he continued to hold your hand as his eyes darted over the countless silver and golden rings.
'The town's office is around the corner,' you said and looked back at Sihtric, 'we should go there and request your passport before we get you new boots.'
Sihtric simply nodded and followed your lead, away from the market and around the corner. And there he suddenly stopped you and pulled you in, one arm around your waist while he held up a silver ring to you.
'For my lady,' he smiled with pride and a loving smile.
'W-what?' you gasped while Sihtric took your hand and placed the ring around your ring finger, 'I- wait,' you scoffed, 'where did you get this from?'
Sihtric didn't reply, he simply smiled and leaned in to kiss your cheek. You felt yourself weakened at his sweet smile and gesture, that it took you a moment to figure out he had stolen the ring from the market when you had looked away for only a few seconds.
'Sihtric!' you hissed, 'did you steal this?!' you asked and stared at him, but he once again didn't respond. 'Sihtric, you can't do that. I'm a cop… you…you can't… do this,' you swallowed hard when you stared into his eyes, getting lost in them.
'Okay,' Sihtric mumbled and shrugged.
And then he pulled you in for a kiss that made you forget and care less that he had stolen that ring just a moment ago.
It was quite the hassle to make Sihtric a registered citizen of Durham and to request a passport, but somehow it had all worked out and his passport would be ready by the end of next week. The employee thought Sihtric was an interesting and charming man, with an old soul. But she also thought he was quite strange though. Sihtric had proudly told the employee that you two were getting married soon, which you wanted to argue against but it turned out to benefit his situation, so you played along. It turned out to be awfully easy for you to pretend to be a loving partner, and it seemed that Sihtric also had no problem with it, and he kept his hands on you at all times.
After his passport was requested you finally went to get Sihtric new shoes. You felt bad that your dog had destroyed his medieval boots in the night, so you were more than willing to buy him a new pair. Well, you had to buy them for him anyway as he had no money on him, except for the little sachet with silver coins that he carried in the pocket of his sweatpants. In the shoe store it became clear once again that Sihtric was a peculiar man, as he was overwhelmed by the amount of shoes he saw and he thought they all looked quite weird, he clearly still had to get used to modern shoes. He ended up liking a pair of horrible cowboy boots, and it took you a lot of persuading to change his mind and look for some simple ankle boots. He reluctantly went with you as you pulled his hand, creating a distance between him and the cowboy boot section, to the modern looking boots,and eventually he picked out a pair of black boots to try on.
'And?' you asked, hopeful.
'They are of fine quality,' he said as he checked them out in the mirror.
'They are,' you agreed, 'and they look good on you too.'
Sihtric smiled and reached into his pocket, 'How much silver?'
'What? Oh, Sihtric,' you shook your head and laughed, 'you can't pay with that silver of yours.'
'Why not?' he asked, offended, 'I earned it. Perhaps stole some of it,' he shrugged, 'but it is of value.'
'Not here-'
'It is of value, lady. I am a wealthy man.'
You sighed and looked around the store, trying to think of a way to make him believe his silver was indeed valuable, while he stared at you intensely.
'You're right,' you smiled, 'why don't you hand me the silver, and I will pay for you?'
'Hand you my silver? You are not yet my wife,' Sihtric scoffed, 'are you after my silver only? Because I have dealt with a-'
'No, no,' you said quickly, 'I, eh, sometimes they give ladies a discount here,' you lied.
Sihtric frowned and thought about your answer, then looked almost impressed and handed you the sachet. 'Very well,' he smiled.
You grabbed the silver and told Sihtric to stay back for a moment. At the checkout you emptied the sachet in your purse and you paid for his shoes with your credit card. You walked back to him with "his" purchase, and he was shocked that the shoes had cost him all of his silver.
'Yeah,' you sighed as you walked back to your car, hand in hand, 'the economy these days is really something.'
'Economy?'
'Yeah, it's… you know what? It's better if you don't know about it,' you smiled and kissed his cheek, after which Sihtric easily dropped the brand new topic to him.
On the drive back from the city to your home you passed the castle again, and just like the first time you passed it you noticed Sihtric stared at the castle with a saddened look, and then looked down at his feet while he fidgeted with his rings, which he had already when you found him, so you were sure those weren't stolen. At least, not stolen from the market.
'Hey, maybe we can visit the castle tomorrow?' you suggested.
'Do you think they'll let me in?'
'If you behave, yes.'
You gave him a cheeky smile, which brought a smile to Sihtric's face too, and he reached for your hand.
'Yeah,' he said softly, and kissed your hand, 'I'd like to go there tomorrow with you.'
Back home, Sihtric came up behind you while you were cooking dinner, and he snuck his arms around your waist, resting his chin upon your shoulder.
'What are you brewing, my lady?'
'I am cooking pasta,' you said, feeling yourself blush again at his closeness.
For a stranger you were already awfully attached to him. You fought the butterflies in your stomach with no luck, as you melted at the sound of his voice and the feeling of his lips grazing your ear as he spoke.
'Pasta? What is pasta?'
'It's, eh… a surprise,' you turned around and smiled at him, 'I think you will like it.'
Sihtric looked curiously at you and then back at the pan.
'Okay,' he chuckled, 'I trust you.'
'You… do?'
'Mhm,' he hummed and pulled you into his chest, 'you're staying with me, right?'
'Right,' you said after a few seconds, hiding your smile as you pressed your face into his hoodie and enjoyed the feeling of his strong arms around you. And Sihtric was happy to have trusted you, because he thought that the pasta you had made him was the best food he had ever tasted in his life, and he said he'd want it for breakfast too, and lunch as well.
When it was time to go to bed you told Sihtric to hide his shoes in the hallway so the beast wouldn't destroy them again. Sihtric did as you told him and he went to lay on the couch, just like the night before. You looked at him as he pulled the blanket over his clothed body, and you suddenly felt bad for him. He was clearly still rather lost and confused, but he seemed to feel at ease when he was close to you, and you couldn't deny that you felt at ease with him too and wanted to keep him close all the same.
'Why don't you… I mean,' you stammered, 'you could- we could maybe s-share my bed?'
You didn't have to repeat yourself, as Sihtric was quick to jump up from the couch. He was rather fast to make his way into your bedroom where he took off his sweatpants, followed by his hoodie, and you gaped at his physique now that you saw it for the first time.
'My lord,' you mumbled at the sight of his muscular body, and you quickly climbed in bed next to him, hiding the blush on your cheeks.
Sihtric hadn't heard you as he was getting comfortable in your bed, and he seemed rather amazed at the soft mattress and sheets, but especially the pillows. He looked overjoyed while he explored the feeling of the fabrics and eventually laid down with a grateful smile on his face, then he turned to you. You were too shy to turn and face him, so you just stared up at your boring ceiling, completely frozen next to him. After a few long minutes of feeling just his eyes on you, Sihtric slowly brought his hand up to your face and began to trace your skin gently and slowly with his fingertips. You felt yourself blush even more, and your heart skipped a few beats while your core began to heat up quickly as he continued to explore your neck and shoulders with his fingers too.
'My lady,' he whispered and pulled you closer with one swift move.
He kissed your cheek and gently took your chin, forcing you to look at him, and then he softly nuzzled your nose and kissed your lips. You weakened at his touch and warmth, and succumbed to him within seconds when he slid his tongue in your mouth as he slowly and passionately kissed you. Soon you felt his warm, rough hands move up under your night dress, which he then took it off. Without any words spoken you pulled him back in and kissed him with a hunger you had never felt before. Your hands moved up into his loose, wavy hair, and Sihtric smoothly rolled you over on your back and positioned himself on top of you, between your parted legs.
'I don't even really know you,' you giggled, completely smitten.
'But you will,' Sihtric whispered, just as smitten as you.
The next morning you woke up with Sihtric next to you, comfortably sleeping as he had one arm wrapped around you and his legs tangled with yours. You couldn't believe you had been intimate with a man who was actually a complete stranger, but everything just felt right for some reason. And at least you weren't a full idiot and you had done everything safely, which was another thing Sihtric had to get used to, but he hadn't complained.
You fixed some breakfast while Sihtric got dressed in his new clothes, and soon you found yourself at the entrance of Durham castle, where it all had all begun for you two. Sihtric had braided his hair today and, as he was not wearing his armour, he did look like a different man than the one who had swung his sword and axe while he demanded entrance just two days ago. The security guard stared at Sihtric as you walked past him, but luckily he didn't say anything and you quickly hooked your elbow with Sihtric's, making your way inside the castle.
Sihtric looked stunned the entire time you walked through the old passages and the courtyard. He somehow knew every room and hallway, which told you he truly hadn't been lying these past few days. And as you held hands he told you more about his life. He told you about his slave mother and his father, Kjartan the Cruel, as well as stories about his half brother, Sven, and the horrors those two men had brought upon others.
'Is that why you helped kill your father?' you asked, cautiously.
'Yes,' Sihtric said curtly.
'Did it bring you peace?'
'Not quite as I had hoped,' he confessed, 'but it does not matter.'
You walked further and ended up looking at a large painting of a family tree. You saw all the names Sihtric had mentioned, and eventually you spotted his name, which left you breathless. You took a closer look at the painting while Sihtric took a few steps back to look around the great hall you stood in.
'I'll be damned,' you whispered as you read the information plaque next to the painting, which told you everything Sihtric had just told you, but less detailed.
You turned to look at Sihtric and saw he had his jaw clenched while his eyes had teared up.
'Hey,' you whispered and wrapped your arms around him, 'what's wrong?'
'I… my life,' Sihtric swallowed hard as he looked around, 'my life is… gone. As is my home, it seems, and everyone I ever knew,' he sniffled, 'and I don't understand it. I walked through that door,' he said and pointed towards the door you had just walked through, 'and I just ended up here… lost.'
'I wish I could explain it to you,' you said and fought your own tears, 'but I truly don't understand it either. Strange things happen, that is true, but I have never heard of anything like this, like what happened to you. And I am sorry, Sihtric.'
'Will you stay with me?' he asked again as he held you tightly wrapped in his arms.
'I will,' you promised, 'if you stay with me.'
'Of course,' Sihtric smiled weakly and wiped a tear, then cupped your cheeks and kissed your lips.
First it was just a peck, but then it turned into a longer kiss, and only moments later you were passionately making out in some hidden chamber Sihtric knew of. His hands roamed all over your body while you unzipped his black jacket, but then it dawned on you that you were in public, even though no one could see you in the seemingly secret room.
'Wait, wait,' you tried to catch your breath, 'we- we can't do this, not here, not in public.'
'I have often humped in public,' Sihtric chuckled and shoved his hands under your shirt and brought his lips to your neck.
'No, no,' you desperately tried to be the stronger person, 'it's not… it's not allowed. We can get a-arrested. We can't… we can't fuc- hump in public.'
'We can,' Sihtric almost growled as he smiled and pushed you up against the cold wall.
'No,' you giggled, 'Sihtric, we really can't.'
'Then where?' he asked, impatiently.
'Well, eh, at home I guess, my home I mean, but-'
'Then we shall go.'
About two hours after your visit to the castle you laid in your bed with Sihtric, both completely naked while the bed sheets covered your bare skin. You mindlessly played with the pendant around his neck while you looked at him. Sihtric smiled at you, his cheeks still rosy from the intense love making that had occurred not too long ago, like yours.
'Would you… go back if you could?' you hesitantly asked after a moment.
'In time?' Sihtric said, 'I'm not sure. I don't know how I could go back, and even if I found a way, I don't know how much time has passed there. I don't know if I would go back to where I came from and if everything would still be the same,' he paused for a moment, then asked, 'do you want me to go?'
'No,' you whispered as you played with his hair, 'I don't want you to go, not at all. But I just wonder if you can adjust here.'
'Maybe,' he shrugged lightly and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, then held your chin, 'if I have you with me, then yes, I think I could adjust. But it will take time. Everything is strange and new and… scary.'
'I can't imagine,' you said and cuddled up to him, 'just know you are safe here. No more battles for you to fight here, and no one who wants to hurt you.'
Sihtric hummed softly and smiled.
'Lady,' he whispered, to which you looked up at him, 'I was serious the other day. I wish to marry you.'
'Sihtric,' you chuckled and bit down on your lip, 'how about we first get you that passport next week and then find you a job?'
2 months later.
Sihtric smiled as he walked up to your car. He had just finished his first day at the job you had landed him at the castle. You had told the staff that Sihtric was a descendant of Kjartan the Cruel and that knew all about the castle and its history, which is why he would be perfect to give tours. After a few days of consideration, the castle's management agreed to give Sihtric a chance, under the condition that he would work the first week for free, to make up for his behaviour the first time he had set foot on the land which had led to the castle having to close for the rest of that day.
Sihtric hopped in the car and immediately leaned in to give you the sloppiest kiss you had ever received, as if you had been separated for months, while it had only been about seven hours.
'Hey,' you chuckled.
'Hey,' Sihtric smiled and kissed you again, 'I missed you.'
'I missed you too,' you said, 'how was work?'
'Great,' he said with a beaming smile, 'they want me to give the tours in armour tomorrow.'
'Really?'
'Yeah, they just don't want me near the weapons,' he sighed.
'I can see why,' you snorted, to which Sihtric gave you a death stare, but he then also chuckled as he remembered how he had endangered the visitors upon his arrival that first time.
'Anyway,' Sihtric said as he put on his seatbelt, 'how was your day, sweetling?'
'It was fine,' you said as you drove off the parking lot, 'no one swung with a sword today,' you taunted.
Sihtric laughed and knew it was better to not take the bait.
'Hey,' he then said, 'I've been thinking.'
'About what, love?'
'We should get married at the castle,' Sihtric said and took your hand, 'where we belong, together, as Lord and Lady.'
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#sihtric kjartansson#the last kingdom#sihtric x reader#sihtric x you#tlk#sihtric#the last kingdom fic#sihtric fic#tlk fic
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Forever My Queen (Yandere Diavolo x Reader)
**Note: This is the first story in a collection of stories based on songs. All of the songs used as inspiration have lyrics that sound a bit “yandere-ish” to me. Each song was paired with a character that I personally think it suits the best.**
**Note 2: Features a female reader. Diavolo may seem a bit out of character here, but I figure that by this point, after having gone through the death loop for so long, his already unstable mind has snapped completely. So have fun with that, Reader. Be warned that I haven’t proofread this so it may contain mistakes. I’ll go back over this and fix any mistakes I find later. In the meantime I’ll go back to working on “Kinder Than Love”.
WARNING: Mentions of suicide, death, and other dark themes. Read at your own discretion. Remember that you alone are responsible for what you choose to read.
Inspiration: “Forever My Queen” by Pentagram
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How much longer would he have to endure this? How many times would he have to endure the agony of death?
Over and over and over again…
Would he ever be allowed to die and just stay dead?!
Diavolo’s wild, green eyes darted around, making note of every little thing that could possibly kill him. He deemed it all dangerous. After all the times he died, he learned a very important lesson:
Death could come at any time, from anywhere, from anyone or anything.
From being stabbed, burned, shot, poisoned, strangled, electrocuted, drowned, starved, crushed, chopped to pieces, eaten alive, torn in half, beaten to death, he’d experienced nearly every way a human being could die. He couldn’t take it anymore.
How would it happen this time?
Would it be slow and agonizing or quick and painless?
He stared about, cringing in on himself and trembling. It had already been about ten minutes and he was still breathing. It offered him no comfort. He knew it was only a matter of time before the end came. Then he would end up somewhere else and die again… and again… and again…
“Please…” his voice came out in a trembling whisper.
“Please!”
A few people walking down the sidewalk glanced in his direction, shook their heads at the obvious madman, and kept walking.
“FOR FUCK’S SAKE! GET IT OVER WITH! JUST KILL ME ALREADY!” he screamed, glaring at the people that turned to give him strange looks.
How did the saying go? “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” Diavolo, the man that had once held an entire country in the palm of his hand had been reduced to a cowering, trembling, paranoid lunatic that screamed obscenities in the streets while people looked on in shock, concern, and occasional amusement.
The King was king no more.
He had nothing.
He was nothing.
His subjects had all turned against him. His kingdom had been stolen from him. He was exiled into a never ending loop of death, defeated by a mere child. King Crimson was gone. Dear Doppio, his companion soul, was dead. And now, the only thing he had to look forward to was death.
He fell to his knees and tried to keep from bursting into tears like a pathetic child. Most of the people that had been distracted by his little outburst had already walked away, some more hurried than others, but all wanting nothing more than to be as far away from Diavolo as possible. He could keel over right there in front of all those people and none of them would care. They would just step over his corpse as if he were just a pile of trash. No one cared what happened to him.
He had nothing at all to live for.
Nothing to live for…
Diavolo chuckled at the realization. Of course. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? It all made sense now. It was the one death he hadn’t experienced yet!
Suicide.
He was supposed to kill himself this time.
He couldn’t help but laugh, elated at the idea. He could resist of course, but he knew that the death loop would increase his despair until he finally gave up and ended himself. But he wouldn’t resist. No. He wanted to die this time. And he would enjoy it, too. It would be the only time that the death loop allowed him to choose the nature of his elimination. What would he choose? He wanted so badly to savor his brief moment of control, but he felt that the death loop would grow impatient if he didn’t act soon. So he would have to work with what was around him. He looked around his immediate area hoping to find something that could end his life in an at least tolerable way. Eventually he lifted his gaze to the rooftop of a nearby apartment building. Why not go with the old standard? He would climb to the roof of that building and jump to his death.
Diavolo entered the building, feeling something akin to peacefulness in his soul. He didn’t know what future horrors the death loop would bestow upon him, so he would relish this single moment of mercy. He decided to take the stairs, forgoing the elevator completely. He just wanted to enjoy the moment as this had been the longest he’d ever been allowed to stay alive. He could safely say that this would be his favorite death.
The door to the rooftop was thankfully unlocked. He opened it and walked out into the late afternoon glow. The air was so clear up there and Diavolo took a moment to breathe it all in. He walked up to the edge of the roof and stared down at the city. It gave him a great sense of tranquility standing there, looking at the skyline and the setting sun. He had no idea where he was, but for a moment, he imagined that this city was his kingdom and he had just climbed up to the roof of his sprawling villa to survey his domain.
Just like old times.
The feelings of despair hit him hard then and he knew it was time. He looked back down at the streets below and took a deep breath. It wouldn’t be the first time he fell to his death. He’d done it at least five times before. He knew it would hurt, it would be extremely painful, having nearly every bone in your body crushed by the force of gravity and your flesh splitting open as your insides spilled out all over the pavement would always be excruciating, but at the very least it would only last for a moment. Painful but quick. Diavolo supposed he’d take that over slow and agonizing. He held his arms out wide and started to let himself fall forward.
Something grabbed a hold of the back of the mesh shirt he wore and yanked him back onto the roof. He spun around and locked eyes with you.
--------
You had come up to the roof to watch the sunset and have a little smoke. You didn’t smoke often, but sometimes the events of the day wore you down and having a little nicotine in your system helped you deal with it. You had just finished your cigarette when the door to the roof was suddenly thrown open, startling you. A man dressed like a mannequin in the window of a Hot Topic shuffled out onto the roof with a spaced out look on his face. You weren’t sure but, he might’ve been under the influence of something with the way he was acting. He lumbered past you as if he hadn’t even seen you. You watched, with growing concern, as he made his way to the edge of the roof. He stood there staring out at the horizon before throwing his hands out and leaning forward.
SHIT!
You had a terrible feeling that he was going to jump the moment you saw him heading for the edge of the roof. You moved with speed that you didn’t know you possessed and grabbed a fistful of the netting on the back of his “shirt”, if you could even call it that, and yanked him backwards. He almost fell backwards on top of you before pulling himself out of your grip and turning his manic green eyes on you. He seemed shocked, confused, and maybe a little bit angry.
“WHY THE HELL DID YOU STOP ME?!”
Okay, maybe very angry.
You didn’t know how to answer him.
“I-I just… you were going to…” was all you could say.
“What business is it of yours?” he asked, voice dropped to a quieter, but just as threatening growl. “What compelled you to interfere?!”
Again, you didn’t know how to answer. Frankly you thought it was obvious.
“I guess… I just didn’t want you to jump.” you said, wincing at the sound of your own voice.
The man sneered, painted lips pulling away from his teeth.
“You shouldn’t have stopped me! I was meant to die here! I was….”
He trailed off and a look of stunned realization came over him. His mouth dropped open and he stared at you as if you just gave him the answers to all of life’s problems.
-----
The gears in Diavolo’s head were turning. Something had changed. He could feel it. He felt it the moment he felt you grab him and yank him back before he could let himself fall to his predestined death. All throughout the death loop, not once had anyone bothered to come to his rescue. You did. Where had you even come from? He hadn’t seen you at all when he walked onto the roof. There was a moment where the paranoia rose within him again and he thought that maybe you were meant to be his death, but why would you save him only to kill him a moment later? At the very least, he could trust his deaths to make sense. The paranoia within him faded when he looked at you. No. You wouldn’t hurt him. You weren’t the type. He knew full well what the look of murderous intent looked like in a person’s eyes. The only thing he saw in your eyes was confusion, discomfort, and a little bit of fear.
He felt as if a chain around his neck had been broken. Gone was the ever present atmosphere of impending doom.
It was over.
He was free.
Somehow, when you pulled him back onto the roof, you managed to pull him out of the death loop as well.
Something stirred within him and he absently placed a hand over his chest. That presence that had always been with him since his birth had returned. Doppio. His dear Doppio was a part of him again, he could feel it! Not only that…
He stood up to his full height and took a few steps back.
“King Crimson!” he shouted, causing you even more confusion.
His ever grimacing Stand appeared beside him, looking as if he had never been lost. King Crimson cast one sideways glance in your direction before Diavolo mentally dismissed him.
He turned back to you.
“You fixed it.” he said, sounding completely wonderstruck. “I don’t know how, but you fixed it. You gave everything back to me!”
Well, almost everything. He was still a king without a kingdom, but now that he had Doppio and King Crimson back, it was a problem he could easily deal with.
“Um, sir…”
Your timid voice interrupted his thoughts. His crazed eyes met yours and you took a step back. No, he wasn’t high, but he was very clearly mentally ill or at the very least mentally distressed.
“...is there someone that I can call for you?”
He answered you by suddenly sweeping you into his arms and pressing his lips to yours in a much too passionate kiss to be shared between strangers. You tried to pry yourself from his hold but his grip was like iron. He deepened the kiss in a way that had you both panicking and swooning at the same time. You didn’t know who this guy was, but he kissed like he was trying to suck the life out of you. You were getting dizzy and your vision was filling up with black splotches. You were on the verge of passing out when he finally pried his lips away from yours and set you back on your feet.
You lost your balance instantly, and fell over on your rear. Your head was spinning and you took a moment to catch your breath. You could feel the heat in your face and you were certain that it was roughly the color of a tomato. Your dazzled mind was at war with itself. One part of your mind was screaming that you needed to pick yourself off the ground and get the hell out of there before that psycho did something worse to you, while the other side of your mind was nervously dismissing the whole thing, saying that he was just showing his gratitude at you saving his life. Once your head began to clear, you scooted backwards on your ass until you felt you were out of his immediate reach. You weren’t going to let him touch you again.
“I will repay you. You have my word on that. I know you don’t fully understand what you’ve done for me today, but I will repay you for it.” he said.
He turned away from you, his eyes filled with a frightening kind of determination, and left the rooftop looking like a man with a mission.
You lay there on the roof, desperately trying to comprehend what just happened to you.
-----
Several months later…
You shook your head as you read the morning news.
“Man, this city’s gone to shit.” you murmured and took a sip of your coffee.
Almost overnight, your city’s crime rate skyrocketed. Murders, assaults, beatings, robberies, gang wars… there didn’t seem to be any end to it. Sure all of that stuff existed before, but not to the extreme level that it had reached in only a few months time. Something was definitely going on with the local criminal organizations and you wanted NO part of it. You glanced over at the pile of real estate brochures that rested on the kitchen counter. You had already been wanting to move for a while now, and the way things were going, you may have to move for your own safety. Young woman living alone? Yeah, you were a prime target. Luckily your apartment building was the only one in the neighborhood that hadn’t been broken into yet. Keyword being “yet”. It was only a matter of time. If there was ever a time to move out to the country, now was it. You quite frankly hated living in the city anyway. It was too noisy, too hectic, and lately, too dangerous.
A crashing sound caused you to look up from your paper. That came from just outside your door. You set the paper aside and cautiously approached the door. You reached out and put one ready hand on the handle of the baseball bat you kept next to the door and looked through the peephole. You didn’t see anything right away so you slowly opened the door. Sprawled on the floor was a little guy with pink hair who was pinned underneath a rather heavy looking box. He struggled to push the box off of himself but it wouldn’t budge. You let go of the baseball bat and threw the door open.
“Need some help?” you asked, stepping out into the hallway.
The little guy looked over at you and immediately blushed with embarrassment.
“N-no! I’m okay!” he said, rather unconvincingly. “I can handle it.”
He grunted as he tried to push the box off of himself again. It just wouldn’t budge no matter what he did. He looked back over to you, giving you a sheepish grin.
“Uh, actually… I could probably use a little bit of help… if you don’t mind…”
You couldn’t help but smile. Whoever he was, he was oddly charming. He seemed a little dense though, but hey, nobody’s perfect. You went over and knelt down next to where he lay. You pushed the box off of him and he sat up, sighing with relief.
“Thanks!” he said.
He got to his feet and looked up at you. His face flushed again, and he looked around himself, seemingly trying to avoid looking directly at your face.
Aw, he’s shy! You thought.
“I guess I overestimated my own strength…” he said and chuckled nervously.
You glanced over at all the other boxes sitting just outside of the open door to an apartment room.
“Guess this means you’re my new neighbor, huh?” you observed.
“Yep!” he said with a nod.
Getting over his shyness a bit, he offered a hand for you to shake. You smiled and shook his hand. His grip on your hand seemed to linger slightly longer than necessary before he finally let go.
“My name’s Doppio. Vinegar Doppio.” He said.
-----
Diavolo was overjoyed to have both his Stand and his second soul back. Not only that but he was slowly rebuilding his empire. The best part of it all was that he was no longer stuck in that infernal death loop.
He had you to thank for that.
And thank you he would.
He already made sure that you were the most protected being in the entire city. All of those under his rule knew that you were off limits. Your apartment was a safe zone and any of his underlings that passed it by wouldn’t even look at the building for fear of his wrath. Only one upstart thief thought that he would try his luck and attempt to break into your apartment. Doppio, who had been observing from the building across the street, quickly put a stop to it. Diavolo allowed his other half to deal with the disobedient worm however he desired. His dear Doppio was very thorough in his punishment. The thief's brutalized body was hung by its entrails from the ceiling of the local thieves' den. The message was very clear. Any slight towards you would be met with swift and horrific punishment. There would be no forgiveness, no chance at redemption, and NO MERCY.
Diavolo didn’t know what strange parallel world the death loop had taken him to, but what he did know is that you were destined to rule it alongside him. You hadn’t just saved his life that day you kept him from jumping from the roof, you gave him back everything that had been taken from him. You were special to him. You were clearly meant to be his. His Queen. With you by his side, he would bring this new world to its knees.
#jjba#yandere jojo#yandere jjba#yandere jjba x reader#reader insert#yandere jojo's bizarre adventure#jojo's bizarre adventure#jojo no kimyou na bouken#jojo x reader#jojos bizarre adventure#jjba diavolo#jjba part 5#jjba golden wind#jjba vento auero#diavolo jojo#vinegar doppio#doppio vinegar#vento aureo#jjba yandere diavolo#yandere diavolo x reader#yandere diavolo#suicide mention#dark content#yandere#reader beware#Youtube#female reader
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Does bill have "a type"? Since you said he only dates every millennium, what kinds of stuff would catch this lunatic's eye? What would motivate him?
You're getting a read more because I listed every single blessed thing I could think of. The tl;dr:
artists (who depict him)
hot eyeballs (subjective)
no head
bright natural coloration
emotional doormats
party animals
nerds, provided they're also attractive other ways
worshipers
things that can injure him
getting gifts
someone who expresses interest first but lets him take the lead
really tacky expensive displays of wasting wealth
someone he thinks is similar enough to "understand" him
This is the first point because it's the answer he'd give: if you ASK him, he'll say he's "a complete sucker for those deep, brooding artist types." He'll say this like it's his biggest weakness. He says it like it's a charming little character flaw. This is the narrative he tells himself. What he ACTUALLY means is if you hit on him, and if you have created art of him (visual art, sculpture, music, poetry), the odds that he'll return the interest go up by 1000%. He is incredibly vain, he loves art of himself, and "willing to give Bill art of himself" is an insanely attractive trait.
Some species have sexy eyeballs. Other species don't. It just so happens that Earth, as a whole, has evolved an array of eyeballs that are by and large pretty sexy when compared to the multiversal baseline. Those little, like, thready filament things in the irises? Mesmerizing. Visible veins?? Drive him crazy. Bloodshot eyes? Gonna be haunting his fantasies for weeks. Top tier is those frog eyes with multiple colors or crazy crackly-looking patterns.
He's not a fan of heads. Like, when a species puts a face on a little bobbly looking thing separated from the rest of the body, rather than right on the torso where it belongs? Looks weird. It's not a dealbreaker but he's definitely more attracted to species that put their faces where they belong. Similarly, a mouth without an eye in it looks weird.
Big fan of bright colors. You know what's attractive? Looking like Lisa Frank colored you. Wearing bright colors isn't as good as being bright colors, but he still finds wearing bright colors to be an attractive trait.
If you combine the last three points, I think that I accidentally made Bill's ideal lover a poison dart frog.
Usually at some point pretty early in the dating process he's gonna say something like "Just so you know—really, I'm not as bad as all the rumors and gossip and ancient legends and globally-broadcasted warning PSAs make me sound. But: I am totally crazy. You wanna stick with me, you've gotta be cool with crazy." What he's looking for is someone who says "oh I am SO cool with crazy, I am the MOST cool with crazy, crazy is GREAT." When he says this, he's not saying "I'm actually mentally ill and need someone who's supportive and understanding." He's also not saying "I'm a wild crazy fun party guy and I want a partner who can keep up with that lifestyle." What he's saying is "I am an inconsistent and inconsiderate asshole who will show no regard for you, and in a year when you're complaining about the selfish harmful things I'm doing, I'll get to roll my eye and go 'I THOUGHT you SAID you were COOL with crazy. Are you NOT cool with crazy??' And then I'll complain about you to my friends." So: he'll focus on naive emotional doormats he can push around. He'll probably draw back from someone who stands up to him, unless he got seriously interested in them before they grew a spine.
But that said, he is also more likely to show interest in people who can keep up with his lifestyle. He parties with apocalypse machines. If he sees an alien at a party where three absolutely wasted demigods started mixing sink chemicals and accidentally set off a big bang that took out half the neighborhood, and the next weekend he sees that alien at another party? That means they party hard, they don't scare easy, they don't die easy, and they avoided the cops. That's somebody he wants to spend time with. If they're not lover material, they might be Henchmaniac material. Similar opinions on substance use and mass destruction a plus.
He's kinda into nerds. Not in and of themselves, but if they already hit other traits he likes, that's a plus. If he has a choice between two identical people and one's dumb as a rock, he prefers the one who knows lots of things and likes to share facts and trivia. Bill goes for long, long stretches without feeling curiosity, and those stretches typically coincide with when he feels most depressed; someone who can drive him to think a little bit is a godsend.
If someone literally worships him, like as a god, he's into that. It's not partner material but he'll put a star next to their name in his booty call list.
Any novel Extreme Sensations, he likes. Particularly pain. Not a lot of stuff can hurt him in his true form. If someone can make him feel pain, that's interesting to him. Not even necessarily in a BDSM way. If holding someone's hand feels like being electrocuted, or they give off a gas that makes everything too loud and makes him see weird colors? That's someone he wants to touch.
I think I've just added another trait to the "poison dart frog" column.
His love language is gifts & favors, both giving and receiving. If somebody gives him a gift, he'll remember them positively. Even if it's a kinda lame gift. It makes him feel liked. Roses & chocolates would work on him.
He's not liable to be the first to express interest, because he finds being rejected utterly devastating. On the other hand, he prefers to take the lead/call the shots in a relationship. So if somebody lets it be known that they're interested in him, but then hangs back to allow him to make the first move? Appealing.
He's a sucker for gold and tacky displays of wealth. Like he's sort of disgusted by wealthy people, but he's very into wealth. If you're rich have fun with it. If you're not ordering a $900 sundae coated with gold leaf just because you can then what's the POINT. Also, Bill is tacky. If some multidimensional billionaire decides to show an interest in him by gifting him an extremely ugly diamond-covered top hat, he'd probably let them do things to him that he wouldn't even confess to his doctor. (He doesn't have a doctor but.) I think what this boils down to is that he's only into rich people who are living like they want to go broke as soon as possible.
He goes through most of his existence feeling like Nobody Understands Him. Part of this is because he's bad at communicating his sincere feelings & emotional needs and even worse at relating to or caring about other people; but part of it is just because there's not a whole lot of people who can directly relate to "my ambition drove me to destroy my entire universe and ever since then I've been grappling with the paralyzing guilt while struggling to find a new universe." So when he DOES meet somebody who he believes can really, truly understand him the way most people can't? He emotionally latches onto them HARD. Not necessarily romantically, but it easily could be. This is last on the list but probably the most important point to getting a genuine emotional connection rather than fleeting physical attraction from him.
Example that hits multiple of the above points: one of his longest & most emotionally meaningful relationships was with a sentient black hole who—quite literally—destroys anyone who gets too close to her, and is constantly wracked with chronic pain due to being a fucking black hole. She did poetry at open mic nights. She'd go up to a mic and say something like "this poem is called The Taste Of Unwillingly Consuming The Solar System You Called Your Home" and then scream into the microphone for five minutes without pause. Bill was like "she's the only one in the multiverse who Gets It." He is a sucker for brooding artists. She let him get away with unspeakable things because he's one of the only entities powerful enough to get physically close to her and survive. Which was incredibly painful, but hey, he was into that too.
Maybe they'd still be together if she looked like a frog.
#(and it's more like once every million years. but that's ON AVERAGE not a schedule)#(like he might have three partners in a millennium but then a billion year dry spell)#anonymous#ask#about my writing#bill goldilocks cipher
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The Boys rode through the pouring rain across the Bridge over to Koh Sahpa.
And the horses stopped by a stilt house.
Jack: "Are we going to stay here? Woah! When I showed Ji Ho the beach after he arrived we saw a stilt house and we talked about how awesome they are and we asked Arturo if we can buy a lot here to build one..."
Vlad: "Arturo told us. Kiyoshi, Jeb and I built it to make it up to you. It's not finished yet. You were only supposed to see it later. "
(So that was their secret project!)
So Kiyoshi built this house. For Jack.
(Even Lunatic is stunned ^w^)
So Jeb built this house. For Saiwa.
Sai had put all his hopes in that circuit board because he has no idea how he is supposed to look Jeb in the eyes again after they 'agreed' that Sai should give in to a fake relationship with Kiyoshi to bring him back from the tree. Because they thought Kiyoshi is Saiwa's fated mate. But he wasn't.
Saiwa stared into nowhere...
Before Sai could follow these thoughts further he got distracted by the noise of the singing birds. Why are they so loud? Bird...
(They really are so loud here ö.Ö')
He has no idea how to go on.
Vlad: "Look after them and try to finish the rest."
(Yeah I know. Who would trust crazy Jack with looking after anyone? Usually he is the one they need to look after and care for. But Vlad trusts him. Because he knows the Jack behind his disorders and antics (and the ones who know adult Jack from our other stories know it too :3) And he knows that he can rely on him when it comes to it.)
Jack: "You're leaving? What about the Bond?"
Vlad: "Jeb and Kiyoshi need me. They are broken too. I will feel it when it's due to charge the Bond."
Jack: "When you feel it Ji Ho already suffers. He has the deeper connection to the Bond. Don't let him beg for it. The intervals are always the same when you don't use it's magic. Just come here in time and do it."
Vlad: "Uhm. Ok."
Vlad and his foolish pride and reluctance. Luci had been bolder... And Ji Ho often said that he doesn't mind physical intimacy with Vlad.
Then it was time for Vlad to leave - to look after Jeb and Kiyoshi...
He is hesitating.
And Jack took Saiwa inside to give them time to get their stuff together. Oh my, after all they already did with each other they still behave like this...
Vlad: "The Bond. I will be back before..."
Ji Ho: "Ok."
They held on to each other a bit longer than usual. Maybe the Bond hates it to see them apart or maybe they will miss each other. Who knows?
Vlad left and Ji Ho went inside.
Ji Ho: "Oh. He's already sleeping. I hope he changes his mind about Tiny Can. I could really need some help from a therapist. Even if it's only an AI."
Jack: "An AI is even better! He knows everything and is always up to date with the latest research and discoveries! He must have scanned countless articles, diagnoses, therapy approaches, research papers... I'm so ready to try it and get stuff fixed in my furry brain."
They sighed and turned around to take in the view.
And just across the river there was the stilt house they had admired a few weeks ago.
Just the one Kiyoshi, Vlad and Jeb built is so much more beautiful. Because they built it with love 💞
'There's a message in the wild
And I'm sending you this signal tonight
You don't know how desperate I've become
And it looks like I'm losing this fight
In your world I have no meaning
Though I'm trying hard to understand
And it's my heart that's breaking
Down this long distance line tonight
But I ain't missing you at all
Since you've been gone away
I ain't missing you
No matter what I might say'
Missing You - John Waite
Link above leads to the MV on youtube
From the Beginning ~ Underwater Love ~ Latest
🕹️ 'Therapy Game' from the beginning ▶️ here
📚 Previous Chapters:
Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28
#therapy game#The White Lily#underwater love#sims 4 story#simlit#sims 4#vlad tepesz#saiwa#giga#jack callahan#woo ji ho#yang mal#diablo#lunatic#tyalindo#Spotify#charging the bond#tomarang#sims 4 vanilla#sims#sims 4 for rent#ts4#simblr
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wait, now im really interested in the silica gel drama. how did hlrp sex ed lead to eating a gel packet?
This is going to require a novel's length of context.
To begin, I want to underline that this is not meant to be a callout post, and I will not be providing any identifying traits that could be used to single this person out. The most you will get out of that are she/her pronouns, and her age at the time this happened, which was years ago, and I will not specify what year. I genuinely do hope she got the help she needed after this, because LORD knows she needs it and didn't find it at home. This is also not meant to be a character assassination, nor should anybody who reads this post consider it to be a takedown of any sort, and if you try to find this person through me or any of our mutual friends, you will not be met with kind words. The only thing this is meant to be is a wild-ass story of some of the most off the wall experiences I personally had with this person from my specific side of the story, with a few no-username screenshots attached to prove I am not bullshitting you.
With that in mind, let's get started. This is going to be very long, so I'm throwing in a read more
Back when I was in uni, I joined a growing group of Half Life roleplay blogs. The whole idea of our group was that we each chose a character, canon or OC, and we would blog as if the pre-Black Mesa incident moment in the timeline was a workplace comedy a la The Office or Superstore. I played Barney, because I was already working night shift security at this point and thought it would be funny. Plus, it gave me something to do that wasn't staring at CCTV feeds all night tossing a ball against the wall. We played off of each other very well, yes-anding our way through funny little situations and plotlines we put together. At one point we had roleplayed enough that one of the scientist rpers created a discord server for us to talk as the actual people we are instead of through characters.
Great idea at the time. None of us saw the "Pandora's box" label on the tin before we opened it. Would I still join it if I knew what was about to transpire? Yes, because I met my boyfriend and many genuinely lovely friends through it. Would I hesitate for a second first, though, as the events that are about to transpire flashed before my eyes? Oh, abso-fucking-lutely.
We started off as many fandom servers do: chill for the most part, very loud minority of a few assholes who ruined it for the rest of us, but unlike most fandom servers, we actually won and it ended in them getting banned and the server itself surviving to this day. But the other two lunatics are not who you came here for. You want the christian lunatic.
Let's give her a nickname to make this easier. I have the Sylveon build a bear on my PC desk. Let's call her Syl.
Syl was not there for Half Life, she was there for Portal. She LOVED Portal, Half Life was just part of the same universe for her. Portal wasn't just a game for her, it was her entire personality. Which I didn't see much of an issue with at the time, because she said she was 15. Whatever, I thought; she'll learn to control her emotional attachment to things as she gets older. Syl also said that she was christian. I am a flaming atheist who doesn't even believe in the concept of a soul in comparison and I am NOT the biggest fan of christianity as an institution to put it mildly, but I'm not gonna like, be a dick to you for your personal religion if you are not a dick about my beliefs, so I didn't think much of it at the time.
It quickly became apparent that Syl looked up to me more than any of the other adults in the group the more I would talk about my life growing up as a third culture kid and moving out on my own at 19, working 2 jobs and going to a good university. She would ask me a lot about growing up and uni and moving out and yes, sex ed, and it became even more apparent that she didn't get any actual guidance from her parents or pastors or ANYBODY beyond bible studies and homeschooling, so I kinda stumbled into a mentorship role in her life. I wasn't cold, but I was aware of the age and maturity difference between us and established the appropriate boundaries with her and made it very clear that I am an internet friend, not an irl friend or an educator, but if no one else was going to give her information that wasn't actively harmful then fuck, I guess SOMEONE had to do it. I could not in good conscience watch some kid go through life with harmful inaccuracies about the world and basic human biology when I could have done something about it, y'know?
And the more things I taught her about the real world and how things actually work rather than how her republican bible-thumping rural town said they did, the more I realized she was born into a full-blown cult under the guise of a christian congregation. Oh goody, I had my work cut out for me. I will not get into the details of how messed up this group was because it will be a dead giveaway of where she lives and potentially who she is, but let's just say that one time I said that I appreciated the gesture of praying for me during a stressful week I was having but it didn't really do anything for my mental health because I was an atheist, and she sent me a bunch of bible verses begging me to start believing and said "I just don't want you to go to hell because you're so nice :((" EXCUSE ME??? Another time she said that death was only sad for non-christians because their loved ones were in hell and that proper christians deaths were a good thing because they were in heaven now. Hi, that's the most insensitive death cult shit I've ever heard in my goddamn life.
Okay, set up is done. All of these details will tie in like the world's worst reboot of Pulp Fiction, I prommy.
After a good long while learning about the world from me (which like... a uni kid working night shift security is not exactly an academic source but we take what we can get) and exposure to viewpoints outside of her in-group, Syl began that very painful journey of realizing that what the cult taught you was a lie. Except that she just wasn't grasping that unlearning things was an active process. She started to flip to the opposite side very quickly, but kept all the fundamental brainwashing of the cult that raised her. The concepts were all the same, just slapped a different label on them. This created a noticeable pull between two sides of the same personality: the cult personality, and the person beyond the cult who wanted to break free. Mix that with how fucking 15 years old every 15 year old is, and you have a LETHAL concoction just waiting to blow up at the first sign of a spark.
Remember how I said that Portal was her whole personality? Syl decided that she wanted to be a scientist, and go into an ivy league program like I was in (I was in a SOCIAL science, but sure). Problem was, she didn't have the grades or the ambition, really. I had told her that I still got into an ivy league when I failed math in high school, and she seemed to completely miss the part where I said that I also joined every extra-curricular, then worked for 2 gap years for recognized institutions, and wrote an essay about why my math grade is not relevant to my program. I did it with one bad grade, so she was justified in basically just slacking off and then excusing it with "but its haaarrrdd" when we'd tell her she needs to put the fucking work in NOW if that's what she wants to do.
It quickly derailed from here. Not only was she going to be a scientist, she was going to be like Cave Johnson. And she was going to... replace her body with robot parts so she could be like glados. I don't... think she actually knew what science is, because she would just publically fantasize about running unethical experiments on people in the name of "science," and talk about how one day she wants to basically establish aperture labs for real. All of us who were there kind of agree that we don't think she was joking based on what we knew about her and the cadence of her tone. Here's something she said at the time to give you an idea of what direction she was nosediving in:
This was after a session with her therapist where said therapist said that she definitely has some kind of personality disorder, after which she was weirdly proud of having one and treated it like a badge of honour.
Syl then made a separate group chat for all the best friends she made on the server. There was her, me, @false-pyre, and @imtheaura. She titled it "My Family," despite the fact that we were all adults and she was 15 and she only knew us over a discord half life server where one person in it stepped up to somewhat equip her for real life outside of a cult. Regardless though that GC was more the vibe of a group of friends sharing memes and chatting about the day than the wider server was at the time. The others began to also take on a sort of mentorship role towards her as well, because that's kind of inevitable when you get someone talking about teenager problems in a room full of adults who all made the same mistakes before in their own lives. Well, minus the cult.
And remember how I said that she didn't unlearn any of the cult shit? Well, there was a lot of proselytizing. She decided she wasn't christian for a spell, but still wanted us and everyone to know that jesus was the lord and savior and we had to accept him or we'd burn in hell. Usually said after we'd make some joke about satan being daddy or declaring ourselves god instead, because that is just the type of humor the others and i have with each other. She took it so personally whenever one of us would go "oh my god" "you called?" it was fucking annoying. I lost count of the amount of lectures she gave us, all of which I'd shut down and tell her to get a grip about because I have a big stupid mouth.
The others and I also like to talk about evolution, and speculate about where we're going from here. My fucking god, did she not like that. She bit our heads off about how evolution isn't real and god made everyone as we are and there's no scientific evidence or whatever the hell. Like yeah good luck getting into STEM with that mindset. Whenever we pointed out that she was objectively wrong about that, she'd have a big stupid meltdown about how much we're slandering god and how jesus died for us and we're spitting in his face or whatever. He should spit in MY face inste-*GUNSHOT*
Eventually, we were making some actual progress with her. She was still one fry short of a happy meal and going off about how much she wanted to put living subjects in test tubes in between knocking on our doors and reciting Hello from the Book of Mormon musical, but we were getting somewhere. And then she went back to in person school, and her favourite teacher got fired.
The schoolboard did not say why she got fired, but we all had our suspicions that it was because she openly supported queer rights in a cult town. She was coincidentally retired shortly after making a declaration that queer people are still welcome in god's kingdom. This teacher was the first in person adult Syl had for guidance, so that incident shook her to her core, and she fell right back into the extremism. Hook, line, and sinker, even more extreme than before.
She was WEIRD that week, man. Suddenly everything was about how great god was, how amazing jesus was. Suddenly she understood why her cult member parents "just wanted to protect her" from gay characters on disney+ originals. Suddenly no one could say "jesus christ lol" around her or she'd have a fit. I said "I hate cycle counts lmao i wanna kms" because my then-job (I had graduated at this point) made me do inventory management spontaneously and wouldn't let me go home until I had counted every product in the store, and she bit my head off accusing me of turning suicide into a joke.
It was that incident that made us tell her to knock it off already, that we understood it was a hard week for her and she was in a period of grief, but that is no excuse for how she had been acting towards everyone around her that wasnt christian, and that she was actively relapsing. I'll let the exchange speak for itself:
So uh. After years of helping Syl through this she goes and pulls this bullshit. And then has the fucking AUDACITY to act like nothing ever happened in the wider server. I am genuinely gobsmacked by the balls on her to act like it was all sunshine and rainbows in the wider server after sending this and immediately leaving the same GC SHE made and titled "My Family" just because we told her to stop acting like a goddamn Jonestown citizen after all the work we'd put in to get her out of that mentality at this point.
So I dragged her up in front of everyone and essentially said "no, nuh uh, you don't get to say that shit to the people who have lost sleep and asked for nothing in return trying to help you escape a cult over the last 2 years and then act like we're all buddy buddy to everybody else. You don't get to be that arrogant and self-righteous without any consequences. I don't give a fuck how young you are, you DON'T treat the people who have helped you this much like that, you selfish little shit. How dare you treat us like this after all we've done for you over the years."
Unfortunately, no one involved had surviving screenshots of this, but they can back me up on it if they so choose. And oh boy, DID she face the consequences of her own actions. The whole server basically turned their heads and went "what the FUCK is wrong with you, Syl??" and asked her to at least like, apologize. She proceeded to double down with the added audacity of "you guys taught me how to establish healthy boundaries, that's all I'm doing right now :(( oh woe is me :(((" like WOW, okay. Someone's really going for the persecution complex.
Here's her last goodbye to us all before the mass block fest occured:
Oh, boohoo. You're so hard done by. You spat in the faces of everyone who stayed up all night multiple times helping you through crises and spent the last 2 years teaching you about how the world really worked and then they asked you to apologize after you tried to escape accountability. You truly are god's strongest soldier, the most persecuted minority in the world. Let me play you an ode to how righteous and holy you are and how this was the most important hill to sacrifice all your outsider friendships on on the world's smallest violin.
Syl then went on to post on her roleplay blog that she "was banned because I spoke up for what was right, and they didn't like that" before deleting it. Truly no one has suffered as much as you.
Anyway, the day after that went down, I called in from work, bought this book, and read the whole thing purely out of spite:
It was greatly therapeutic. After that incident, I vowed to never sanitize my own atheistic beliefs for the benefit of others again. If they don't like them, they don't have to talk to me. But I am not changing them for other people or keeping them quiet just to spare your feelings anymore, I have as much a right to my beliefs as anyone else does, including the world's most persecuted minority here.
And well, the silica gel incident?
There was one incident, during the height of Syl's "I am the irl cave johnson and only want to get into STEM to conduct unethical experiments on people. follow jesus" era, the rest of us were joking about how silica gel packets are the ultimate forbidden snack, and said "haha would eating it make you see shrimp colours" knowing full well it can kill you.
Syl proceeded to actually eat a silica gel packet and then send in "it has a sandy texture and tastes bad" prompting the rest of us to go "WE WERE FUCKING JOKING FIND YOUR POISON CONTROL HOTLINE RIGHT NOW"
And because i didnt get this done until now, I'll tag everyone who said they wanted to read this or expressed interest: @captainjonnitkessler @formydarlingtoread @cra-zwizard @chasingnightrainbows
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Returning the Favor
Sterek | 5k | T
Stiles pays a nighttime visit to his boyfriend in secret, or so he thinks. Unfortunately, the Hale family has keener ears than he realizes.
It’s late when Derek hears the noise at the side of the house. A creak of siding that cuts through the backdrop of cricket song. Just one lone sound, but there’s something cautious about it. Probing.
He lowers the book he’s reading, but no other sounds follow. Derek has been lying sprawled across his bed, drowsy and warm and comfortable, sweatpant-clad legs resting against the wall—but now that he’s conscious of the sound, his focus sharpening, he thinks he’s been hearing quiet noises grow nearer for some time without quite comprehending them. A wild animal outside, maybe, creeping slowly around the foundation of the house. Something large enough that the mulch in the flower bed crunches beneath its weight.
It’s not often that a solitary animal grows bold enough to venture this close to a werewolf pack—the scent always scares them off first. They don’t even get raccoons out here, especially not with the cold this time of year. It could always be their cousin Warren, who’s always thought it funny to startle his relatives with unexpected visits in the dead of night. Or any one of the nasty things in Uncle Peter’s wild stories, supernatural things that creep into the house come dark.
Derek glances at the window, book still resting on his chest, but the house is still.
Maybe it’s gone. That’s just as well: he’s too comfortable to drag himself over to the window to look.
And then another sound comes, an unmistakable creak. Heavy weight settling into place.
Downstairs, his mother sighs. “What was that?” she demands, her voice faint with distance. She and his dad are likely out on the porch swing at this time of evening, even though it’s nearly winter, lunatics that they are. “If Laura and Cora are at it again—”
“I’m sure they aren’t, Tal,” Derek’s father replies, sounding amused. “You put the fear of god in them.”
Mom scoffs. “If we have to repair another door, it’s coming out of their pockets.”
“Not everything is my fault, Mom,” Cora mutters pointedly from down the hall. There’s heavy metal coming from the vicinity of Laura’s bedroom, just low enough to be blasting from her headphones, and she doesn’t pipe up to defend herself.
The thing hasn’t gone away. Metal squeaks a moment later, and then the scrabbling returns, punctuated by a thump and a muffled grunt.
Annoyed, Derek tosses the book aside and clambers to his feet, crossing over to the window. When he hoists up the sash, letting the night chill waft in, he peers down into the dark and finds that the source is worse than anything he could have imagined.
It’s his boyfriend, scaling the side of the house like some deranged cat burglar.
Stiles is hanging onto the drainpipe, having managed to hoist himself several feet off the ground. He’s leaning against the metal awning over the kitchen window, one foot atop the shutter and the other scrabbling for purchase against the siding. At the clatter of Derek’s opening window, he looks up, startled, and nearly loses his balance.
“What are you doing here?” Derek hisses.
“Just returning the favor.” With a moment to catch himself against the awning, Stiles gets his bearing and grins. “What? Don’t make that face. C’mon, you can show up at all hours of the night, but turnabout isn’t fair play?”
With that, he sticks his tongue between his teeth, which he sometimes does unconsciously when something demands his full attention. And the perilous task of climbing should get his full attention, given how often he stumbles when both of his feet are on the ground. God, Derek is about to witness his idiot boyfriend fall to his death or something.
Stiles heaves himself mostly onto the awning, clawing for purchase with a grunt. When he reaches for the window, he loses his grip, nearly sliding backward onto the grass; in a flash of panic, Derek grabs him by his shirt and yanks him forward.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he demands, aware of their volume and even more aware of their audience.
The awning rattles as Stiles draws up his long legs to slip inside the window feet first, ducking under the sash. He’s panting a little as he pulls himself upright, though he bats his eyes sweetly in the face of Derek’s scowl. “Oh, please. I knew you’d catch me. ‘My hero,’ and all that.”
“Should have let you fall and die,” Derek retorts, shutting the window.
“Probably. Oh man, that was so athletic. Sometimes, I amaze myself.”
Derek doesn’t have anything smart to say to that. He’s only half paying attention, too busy bracing for the discussion sure to follow.
He and Stiles may as well have stomped up and down the stairs blowing air horns as far as the rest of the house goes. Everyone will have heard. Derek is absolutely sure because you can hear a pin drop, like no one’s even moving, like everyone’s waiting with bated breath—either gleeful or judgmental or both—to hear what comes next. Even Laura’s deafening headphones have gone silent. Fuck.
Worst of all…Stiles doesn’t know any of this. He doesn’t yet know about the secret the Hale family hides, or how keenly they can hear, or that every word he says will be seized up and cheerfully dissected and gossiped about in real time.
Read the rest on AO3
#sterek#sterek fic#mine#vaguely inspired by a tumblr post i have been unable to find after multiple searches in the month+ it took me to write this#i think it was a pic of two cats falling off a roof??#and whoever posted it was basically like 'haha this is stiles-coded after he tries to climb derek's window and pulls derek down with him'#i'm pretty sure i even reblogged it and yet where is it??#if you know what i'm talking about let me know lmao#anyway#this is only a little bit about stiles struggling through the window#mostly it's about how i think werewolf hearing would upgrade the sibling-on-sibling crime possibilities in any given household#and the fact that you could not get away with ANYTHING noisy without every other person in the house knowing about it#so having blabbermouth stiles stilinski pop into said household while being totally ignorant of the existence of werewolves...#let's just say 'poor derek' and leave it at that lmao
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More steddie dads content I really want some Eddie centered like teaching the girls guitar or dnd especially since Robbie is like him I think that they’d bind over a shared interest and he’d teach her stuff from when he was younger!
lol yeah the last few have def been more steve-centric (and also kind of a bummer) so let's switch up the vibe a bit
So, yes, Robbie is Eddie's daughter through and through.
She's stubborn and brazen and loud in her opinions and beliefs. She can be a little flippant about other peoples' feelings when she's not careful, and sometimes struggles to acknowledge the validity in other experiences outside of her own - in other words, she's Eddie to a T. She's even got the same big curly hair (though it's way more well-maintained than Eddie's had been thanks to Steve).
As for hobbies, Robbie is the only one out of Eddie and Steve's three daughters to really take an interest in music.
Eddie is thrilled about this, especially in the early days when Robbie is seven or eight and dying to try out any instrument they put in front of her. She has a natural proclivity for nearly all of them, which is fucking wild to Eddie, but the violin is the one she takes a particular shining towards.
Eddie can't say he'd ever had a resounding interest in classical music, but he wants to support Robbie so he dives into it right along with her.
That shit...
is metal as hell.
Seriously rad.
Eddie anxiously waits for her to be old enough to try out his old electric guitar. He waits until she's fifteen years old - the same age he'd been when he'd gotten his first electric - and then he digs it out of storage and bestows it upon her like the exquisite treasure it truly is.
In true teenager fashion, Robbie is...unimpressed.
She humors him for a bit, and to her credit, she does seem at least a bit intrigued by the almost forty-year-old guitar, but when Eddie offers to show her how to play, she only shrugs.
"I don't want to mess with my technique," she tells him, as if she's not shattering his heart into a bazillion tiny pieces.
"What does that even mean?"
"I dunno," she shrugs again.
Later, once the guitar has been safely put away, Eddie recounts the exchange to Steve.
"I just don't get it," he laments, "She'd be so good at it! I don't get why she won't just give it one chance."
"She's you, my love," Steve tells him, "Are you forgetting all the years you spent rejecting everything outside of what you deemed acceptable. You grew out of it. She will too."
So Eddie resigns himself to waiting it out. Robbie ends up deciding she wants make a career out of playing the violin, and she goes to New York to get her bachelors in music.
Just as Steve had predicted, once she hits college and grows up a little bit, she starts seeing the value in the world outside of the small corner of it she occupies. She comes home from her first semester regaling them with all the things she'd learned, and she catches Eddie by surprise when she asks him to bring out his old electric guitar.
Eddie and Robbie jam in the basement for like five hours before Steve insists they go the fuck to bed, and that "Hazel has school in the morning, in case you lunatics forgot."
(As for dnd, looking at it from the perspective of teenage girls, Steve and Eddie's kids absolutely do not want to think about their dad DM-ing. Eddie can't even breathe the wrong way without his daughters calling him out for being cringe or whatever, never mind executing a whole campaign. They'd die of embarrassment - guaranteed.
Robbie does get super into MTG in college, which Eddie absolutely takes as a personal F-You from his daughter. He gets his revenge by refusing her offers to teach him to play, even though it honestly sounds like a fuckin' blast, but that's a hill he's willing to die on)
#the universe said “here's you in smart-ass teenage-girl form best of luck”#steve actually has a way harder time parenting her than eddie does but that's a conversation for another day#steddie#liv’s steddie dads verse#steddie dads#eddie munson#steve harrington
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Seven Minutes
Y/N’s crush on her boss is obvious to everyone, including his co-stars, leading the two into some sticky situations.
Johnny Knoxville X Fem!Reader
(Fluff)
2.4k Words
Warnings: Highly suggestive content, nudity, flirting, praise
An: Thank you so much for the requests!! I really love the Assistant!Au and would love to continue it, specifically with Bam! I would love to see how he would mess with and push around our lovely assistant Y/N XD Anyways, keep sending those requests and let me know what you think!
Clutching your little brown clipboard, you were nearly shaking as you gazed up at the piece of paper sloppily scotch taped to the white trailer door. One would’ve thought that the first name on the billing would be treated with a little more prestige. You had no idea how you got the job, really. Horribly under qualified, virtually zero experience- a real combination for success. I mean, before today, you’d never stepped foot on a movie set, and here you were, Y/N: assistant to the stars. More than that, according to what Paramount told you, you would be an assistant to America’s favorite hot lunatic: Johnny Knoxville. You hadn’t seen a thing he was in, but from what you gathered, teenagers thought of him as the modern PT Barnum, while the churchgoing growd called him the devil incarnate, and you were going to be working under him. Timidly reaching out, you knocked a few times on the trailer to no answer. “Hey, uh- Johnny! Jeff needs you on set soon!” After maybe thirty seconds of waiting and no answer, you decided to try the handle, assuming he was too busy doing whatever movie stars do and just couldn’t hear you.
Boy, did you get an eyeful. There, standing in that silent trailer with his clothes draped over a chair, was the man himself, naked as a jaybird and without a care in the world that you saw him. He was all tanned muscle, Hollywood man meat. You, on the other hand, felt heat rush to your cheeks as your eyes swelled to the size of dinner plates. Stuttering out an apology, you turned away, “Oh! Oh my god, I am-“ Completely unphased, Johnny continued getting dressed, talking to you like he was talking about something as simple as taking out the trash. “Hold on a sec. Just gotta get some clothes on…” Does this happen often with movie stars, or only to him? It had to, you thought, based on how relaxed he was to be naked in front of a total stranger. Is he naked in front of strangers often? All you could do was face the wall of the trailer as your mind went wild, the heat flooding in from outside through the still open door doing nothing to aid the sweat you were already breaking. Your train of thought was brought to a screeching halt when you heard the metallic jingling of Johnny doing up his belt behind you, bringing to mind a flood of thoughts that you weren't exactly proud of. Still, you couldn’t help the urge to sneak another look at his half clothed body but you quickly turned back.
As sneaky as you thought you were being, Johnny noticed your little glance and, more than that, he didn’t seem to mind. Cracking a smirk at the events that were unfolding in front of him, he couldn’t help but want to tease this sweet little assistant of his a bit more. You didn’t even know he was dressed until you felt a tap on your shoulder and you turned around, nearly nose to nose with him while Johnny was still buttoning up his shirt with one hand, sporting that knowing, crooked smile. God, you practically fainted when he spoke, his voice barely above a murmur, “You needed somethin’?” Well yes, there was something you needed, but you weren't going to say that sort of thing out loud, much less to your boss on your first day. Too flustered to articulate yourself, you gestured for him to take a couple steps back, which he complied with, before you attempted to compose yourself, “U- uh…Jeff, he- uh, he asked me to get you for that- that Toro Totter stunt today…”
Johnny loved that you remembered his coffee order, even though that was a part of your job. Not that it was hard to remember- black coffee with two sugars. Every morning when you met up with him on set, you’d tell him good morning when you handed him the steaming hot styrofoam cup, and Johnny would take it from you with a smile that was still tired from partying the night before. He’d take a long sip and get this charmed look on his face and make some joke about how he couldn't believe that you remembered his order. As you worked with him longer and you started growing closer, he would tack on an appreciative, “Atta’ girl!” and reach out to rub your back or ruffle your hair. All the guys on set would whisper and joke about the two of you, especially Bam, who no matter how many times it was explained to him, still couldn’t get why Knoxville hadn’t ‘tapped that’. You didn’t care to admit how much you liked when Johnny treated you like that- all affectionately. Maybe you were nervous about working with a big movie star and really needed some approval to keep you going. On the other hand, you had been busting your ass for the past month making sure everything on set went as smoothly as possible, so it could also be that you felt like you needed the recognition. But most likely, you just liked hearing those words come from Johnny’s mouth.
So that’s why you went up to see him in his motel room. Well, that and he was half an hour late and Jeff wanted you to find out why the hell he hadn’t shown up on set. Carrying the well creased list of stunts for the day in your pocket, you walked through the dingy hallways of the cheap place the cast was set up at, carefully stepping over where Steve-O was passed out, drooling face down on the carpet. After finding Johnny’s door, you knocked on the cheap plywood and it swung open without resistance. Wondering what was with this guy and leaving doors open, you timidly called out into the room, “Uh, is everything alright, Joh-?“ Well, that explains why he hadn’t shown up- he wasn’t even out of bed. Shifting slightly at your noise, Johnny sat up with a groan, rubbing the back of his head as the sheets that covered his torso slid down to pool at his hips. “M’fine…god, just- just c'mere.” As he waved you over, patting the side of the bed for you to sit down, you couldn’t help but stare at him now that you were close enough to feel the heat radiating off of his body, and especially since you had more time to look him over. The cheap, frameless bed creaked under you as you sat down next to him on top of the sheets, fiddling with your hands. Johnny, who saw the paper sticking out from the front pocket of your jeans, snaked an arm past your hips nonchalantly to grab it, unfolding it with his muscular arm still around you.
He looked over the list, blinking groggily and quietly commenting about some stunts they should shuffle around to make the day run smoother or how he would change some setups. There was no way in hell you would be able to pay attention to anything that was coming out of his mouth. God, you were awful. It was like the second you got within five feet of him, your brain started slipping out of your ears. Still dazed, you were shaken out of your trance when Johnny wordlessly grabbed the coffee from your hands, bringing it to his lips and taking a drink. The corners of his eyes crinkled up when he swallowed deeply, his voice rough as he slid his arm up to squeeze your shoulder affectionately with a warm smile, “That’s my girl.”
He played you like a fiddle, goddamn it, and you were helpless to do anything about it. He just really got a kick out of messing with you, batting you around like the way a cat plays with its food before it eats it. Of course, this didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the cast who, although you had mostly ignored their comments and jeering, found your nervous reactions even more entertaining than Johnny did. They’d go out of their way to get you and him into situations where you would be forced to be in close proximity, but because of how often they pulled these pranks and your inexperience working on set, you couldn’t always tell the difference between when you were really needed for something or when they were trying to mess with you, so you naively complied with their requests every time. That’s how you got into situations like this.
“Hey, Y/N!” Steve called to you in passing on set one day, “Can’y grab a couple’a those cowboy hats from wardrobe?” Usually you only tended to what Johnny asked you to do, but since it was a pretty innocuous request, and you had nothing to do, you didn’t give it a second thought as you made your way to the costume department. It wasn't so much of a department as it was a small closet. In the past, the guys made jokes about getting you all dressed up in some skimpy outfit to sit in the background of a stunt on the basis that they really needed some sex appeal in the new movie, so you took a few peeks in there out of curiosity. This is all to say that you knew about it. What you didn’t know, however, was that at the same time Steve was sending you off, Chris was asking the same question to Johnny. See, this was a well coordinated attack, and if there was only one thing these bumbling idiots could coordinate together to do, it was fucking with people.
As soon as you hurriedly stumbled into the dark closet, you bumped face first into something warm which you quickly realized was a person, leaving you a little dazed before the door loudly slammed shut behind you, making you jump a little. The only noise you heard was snickering, courtesy of Bam, who had hidden barely out of sight when you walked in and jammed a chair under the handle of the door. There was only one person you would end up in there with, “Oh, come on, guys!” The familiar southern drawl in his voice made your stomach jump as you recognized Johnny who, while he was trying not to make his annoyance apparent, leaned around you to knock on the door as he yelled to the guys on the other side, “I gotta be on set in five- Jeff’s gonna kill me!” Still, nothing but snickers. You began to realize exactly how close your body was to his- Johnny didn’t even seem to notice nor care that your face was nearly buried in his chest, but you were so freaked out that you could bring your mouth to move or make any noise. It wasn’t until he groaned, leaning back to sit on a costume trunk in front of you that you took a breath.
“Well, we might be here a while…” Johnny mused, and while you couldn’t see it, you definitely heard the smile in his voice as he continued, “Y’know this kinda reminds me a lot of that game- seven minutes in heaven?” Of course you knew what he was talking about, and you would be an idiot to pass this kind of thing up. Unfortunately, under these conditions, you kind of became one. “I, uh- I’ve never played that- that game before…” Well, it wasn't a lie- you really hadn’t, but you knew what he meant. Your response was a half hearted stammer, your heart pounding so hard that you half expected it to thrum out of your chest, cartoon style, and you were sure he could feel it. You were aware he was getting a kick out of your nervousness, but you weren't exactly sure how to feel about that. Johnny’s voice slipped into that low, teasing register as he met your eyes, leaning towards you. “I could always teach you.” You practically let out a squeak at his suggestion. Oh god, it’s happening. He wanted to kiss you, didn’t he? Your brain struggled to form words, but luckily Johnny broke the tension before you dropped dead from the little game he was playing with you. Flashing a playful smile, he chuckled reassuringly, “Ah, I’m just messin’ with ya.”
There was something warm, something comforting and infectious that followed Johnny around wherever he went- a product of his charisma, surely, that just put everyone at ease. Well, everyone except you, but even now that was starting to change. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’ve gotta little crush on me, Y/N.” You thanked the darkness for giving you an excuse not to look him in the eyes, because otherwise he’d find it cute and probably do that thing they do in romance movies- where the guy tilts the girl’s chin up a little, and if he did that then you would be as good as a puddle on the ground. “O-oh, really?” Part of you was tempted to ask if it was that obvious, but you were unfortunately not that bold. “Mmhm. And lucky for me too, cause I was itchin’ to get an opportunity to ask you about gettin’ drinks sometime! Guess that makes my job a little easier, right?” Trying to be slick, Johnny put his arm on the door behind you and leaned, assuming it was still locked. However, against all assumptions, the door of the closet flew open, and as you were still startled from how he just so nonchalantly asked you out, your stiff body tumbled backward, landing flat on your behind. While you were talking, Bam apparently got bored when the ‘action’ hadn’t started, so he got up and left, taking the chair with him. Panicking and confused, the first thing Johnny did was lean down, giving you his hand, “Oh shit, Y/N! You alright?” In any other situation, the genuine concern in his voice and the feeling of his large, warm hand wrapping around yours protectively would be enough to get you weak at the knees, but your mind was elsewhere. Hell, you didn’t even care about how sore you felt as you stumbled to stand, tripping over your own words, “I’m fine, yeah! A, uh- a date! Drinks- that would be great!”
#jackass#johnny knoxville#bam margera#steve o#chris pontius#jackass fanfiction#jackass fanfic#fluff#jackass x reader#johnny knoxville x reader#this is so self indulgent but idc
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