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eddiessluttywaist · 1 year

Text

as if

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES.

summary: eddie taunts reader daily, but… she kinda likes it? just never does anything about it. not until she has to tutor him, anyway.

pairing: bully!mean!perv!eddie munson x perv!fem reader

word count: 7,901 words

content/warnings: swearing, some angst at the beginning kinda, mention of death (barb), SMUT MDNI (y/n is 18), bully!eddie, mean!eddie, perv!eddie, bully kink (?), dominating, arguing, breeding kink, hate sex, brief masturbation mentions, mocking, teasing, anxiety kinda, spitting, invasion of privacy (eddie goes through her things), eddie’s a dirty lil pantie stealer and sniffer, y/n is a c*m sl*t, bulge kink(?), dacryphilia, groping, choking, daddy kink if you squint real hard, mentions of virginity (y/n is not a virgin), pet names (doll face, princess), degradation (use of slut). i think that’s all pls tell me if i miss anything!

a/n: i have to say tbh i don’t see eddie ever being a bully so this is technically like an au!eddie?…but also… uhhhh very hot. makes my brain wiggle with heat waves so here we are. hope you like it! <3

part two - part three

As if.

It’s a simple statement, really, and you meant no harm when you said it. It was just something to be said… that didn’t mean he didn’t hear it though.

That also didn’t mean it didn’t tick him off.

You were surprisingly pretty to be in the geek group, but in the cruel and tyrannical world of high school girls..? Alas, no amount of lip gloss or cute skirts could free you of the fact that you were smart. Not only smart, but a geek. A nerd—who was shy around most—and you got along with nearly all of the teachers because of how well-behaved and intelligent you were. And, on occasion—although you always tried your best to not come off this way—a bit of a know-it-all.

That was the final nail in your coffin, really. Correcting Carol Perkins in American History in front of everyone back in your freshman year. (Her sophomore year and already irritable about having to take a freshman course 2 years in a row). You meant well, but she had it out for you ever since. The tyrant, as it was, made it entirely impossible for you to make your way up the food chain.

So in your sophomore year of high school, back in Autumn of ‘83, you were among the peasants just like him—even as a senior (for the first time). He took a quiet interest in you. You were cute and soft-spoken. You were a sophomore, though, and the fact that you were 15 at the time made the 17 year old scrunch up his nose whenever he remembered. He could still look, though, right? There was no harm in that…

Nancy and Barb took notice of it all pretty quickly. The way that the senior would scan over your outfits everyday. The way that he might’ve smirked a little if you had to bend over to pick something up, simply staring at your behind rather than coming over to get your things for you. The pair would exchange glances that you were adorably unaware of, over his attention that you were also so endearingly oblivious to. One day, they finally burst over it in the hallway, and he overheard.

“I think a senior likes you.” Nancy teased, gripping her Geometry textbook to her chest.

“What?” You had let out a slight laugh, digging through you locker. “What makes you say that?”

“Oh my god, seriously?” Barb interjected. “Aren’t you supposed to be smart? Observant?”

You were all wide-eyed over that, pouty lips opening and then closing as you struggled to find your words before finally landing on a frustrated huff and a simple “Shut up.”

“He stares at you all the time.” Nancy pushed with a teasing smile.

“Like you can talk.” You teased, slamming your locker shut before resting your back against it. “Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington is totally all over you.” You smirked at the way her face instantly heated up.

“I- He- It’s not like that.” She insisted, completely flustered. And while Barb agreed with you, she wasn’t interested in letting you direct the conversation elsewhere.

“Besides he’s just a Junior. The guy who likes you is a Senior.” Nancy tacked on.

“Like there’s really that big of a difference?” You raised a brow.

“There is.” Barb scoffs.

“Well then if it’s such a huge deal… can’t you just tell me who it is?”

“You seriously don’t know?” Barb questioned and the ginger-brunette pair tilted their heads while they looked at you with a sort of exasperated disbelief. You just gave them that wide eyed look again and shrugged your shoulders.

Barb broke first with a scoff and a bright smile. “Eddie Munson. He stares at you all the time.”

Eddie Munson. He wasn’t popular by any means, but he was still a Senior. He was still attractive to you, and could still make an underclassmen blush if he gave them any attention simply because he was older and a little dangerous. He just didn’t show any interest in any of the other younger students, just a little curiosity towards you.

“Eddie Munson?” You had laughed a little, which made him furrow his brows as he listened in just around the corner of the hall at his own locker. You were being dismissive out of nerves, not out of any sort of malicious intent, but that’s not how he took your tone. After all, he was a cynical man.

“As if.”

After that he was a bit bitter towards you. Then he was a little mean. And then he was just plain cruel. He was an asshole. He was a bully.

Since his interest being pointed out to you, you occasionally glanced over at him to see if he really was staring. But he either acted like you didn’t exist, or whenever his gaze did meet yours the corners of his lips turned down and his brow frowned with disgust before looking elsewhere.

When Barb went missing, you and Nancy were temporarily joined at the hip in your efforts to figure out what happened. Then one day Nancy went cold on you. Started making excuses and hardly speaking to you otherwise. You didn’t understand, finding yourself completely alone as you scattered “Missing Person” posters all over Hawkins.

You had no idea what happened with Barb at the time and still had no clue what happened with your friendship with Nance to this very day. Maybe the loss was too much. Maybe Nancy couldn’t handle the reminder of your perfect trio. She was always closer to Barb than you. Maybe Barb missing and then turning up dead made it too difficult for her to face you. Maybe she was all caught up in two guys being completely obsessed with her, which admittedly made you a little jealous.

Soon enough you seemed to be completely off one another’s radars. It made high school even lonelier for you. You eventually found some new friends in other corners of the “Smart Kids” lunch table, but it was never like it was with Nancy and Barb.

So by the time he started getting a little mean, there wasn’t really anyone to protect you. Your new friends were skittish around the metalhead. Nance and Barb would’ve stood up for you once, but that support system was obliterated back in ‘83.

So when he shoved past you in the halls later in your sophomore year, no one gave it any thought. When he was pulling your hair in your Junior year then acting all innocent when you turned around to confront him, still no one cared. Now in your Senior year—and him in his third—whenever you thought he couldn’t be worse, he proved you wrong and did so with a devilish grin.

He pulled your hair. He tripped you. He stood behind you in line at lunch and would flip up the back of your skirt. He smacked your books out of your hands. He openly mocked you while leaning back in his chair at lunch with that smug look on his face. He mimicked your contributions in class under his breath, knowing you’d hear him and trip over your words. He snuck filthy messages into your locker that made your face burn with embarrassment and disgust—disgust for him and for the way his perverted words made your thighs press together. He would speed up whenever you were walking or biking home just to scare the shit out of you. He would take any opportunity to shove you or throw things at you or press his body up against yours in a derisive and vulgar manner—especially in gym class. He would “playfully” hump you from behind and nearly knock you over whenever you bent over and there was no teacher paying attention. Or spank you. Or pinch your ass.

He was horrible. Disgusting. Obnoxious. Crude. Vile. He made you go home with tears in your eyes most days, but the worst part was how much you liked the attention. You hated yourself for it. You wished you were running to the nearest adult to tell them every last thing he did to you. You wished you were standing up to him and calling him a disgusting pig in front of everyone which surely would’ve pulled out some “Ooo”s and maybe even some of the Seniors that hated him would’ve joined in. Maybe even had your back, even if it was temporary.

But you didn’t because by now when he pulled your hair, you had to refrain from whimpering or moaning. When he tripped you, you thought of the things he could do to you now you were already on your hands and knees. When he flipped up your skirt you always gasped and shoved him away, secretly hoping he’d do it again—even starting to wear only your cutest pairs of panties to school. When he smacked your books out of your hands, you actually liked that it was him causing you to bend over or get on your knees to collect your things again. When he decided to mock you from over at his spot at lunch, you got butterflies from the way he said your name and the way his dimples sunk into his cheeks. When he mimicked you in class, you tripped over your words because his voice and tangible presence got you all flustered and hot. When you got to your locker, you secretly hoped to see the torn off corner of some notebook page flutter onto the floor with the most obscene words. When he sped up to scare you, you thought about screaming something so bold at him that he would screech to a halt and reverse before telling you to get in his van, now.

You liked when he threw things at you like balled up paper to your cheek in class or a basketball to your side in gym. You liked when he shoved you or pressed against you because in his attempts to intimidate you with his touch and his proximity, it made your knees weak. You liked how he pinched your ass or gave it a little smack when you bent over and your teacher wasn’t looking. And you loved when he would thrust up against you whenever you were bent over and there was no teacher around at all, because his bulge pressed up against you (even while he was laughing devilishly) made you ache.

He was so utterly horrible to you, and yet when you found yourself grinding on your hand at night on top of your pink, white and yellow quilt—you were thinking about him and how mean he was. You were thinking about how mean he would be as he fucked you. Taunting you and teasing you and mocking you. You spasmed around your fingers and choked down your cries at the thought of him bullying your cunt.

It was all a fantasy, though. He never interacted with you longer than a few seconds, and was always with him in control. If you walked up to him and told him you wanted him to fuck you like the bully he was, he probably would’ve died laughing right before your eyes and told everyone he knew about your embarrassing lust for the guy who made your life a living hell. But now you were being cornered into spending time with him, and being faced with a real-life scenario where you were together made your palms sweat.

“I know he’s a difficult young man, but if you tutor him I’ll figure something out with the principal. Some sort of extra credit maybe.”

“There’s no one else that could tutor him?” You choked out, nerves on edge. Ms. O’Donnell gave you a sympathetic smile and shook her head.

“All busy.”

Busy, my ass you wanted to huff out. They were probably all avoiding him like the plague. O’Donnell was desperate to get his grade up and get him out of the damn school, which you didn’t blame her for, but god… why you?

“Okay…” You relented, a sad twitch for a smile when she sighed in relief and thanked you incessantly.

“I’ve already spoken to him about needing a tutor, I’ll let him know the good news, okay?”

You nodded with a meek “okay,” and tried to go on with the rest of your day as if you weren’t wracked with fear, excitement, concern over your excitement. You were on edge all day, and nearly jumped out of you seat when you were called to the office over the speakers about 5 minutes to the end of your last class. You swallowed anxiously, collecting your things and trying to ignore the “ooo”s over you being summoned to the principal’s office—assuming you were in trouble.

You trudged towards your destination, pausing when you spotted him slack in one of the chairs by the front desk that he frequented more than anyone else. You considered running in the opposite direction and making up some lie to Ms. O’Donnell the next day, but then Mrs. White beamed at you after happening to glance away from her clunky typewriter.

“Miss Y/L/N! Come on in, dear.” She spoke cheerfully in a way that went through you sideways. Eddie’s eyes shot up to you, smirking around the fingernail he was chewing at and clearly considering spitting it at you if Mrs. White hadn’t been paying attention. You toyed with the ends of your sleeves anxiously, listening to Mrs. White discuss the details Ms. O’Donnell had ready. What topics to go over (which was just about everything). How many times per week she wanted you to tutor him (at least once/week). The only thing left out was when and where.

“Oh that’s up to you two, hon.” She chirped. “Just compare your schedules.”

“It’s not in school? With a teacher around?” You questioned anxiously, but she was oblivious to your worries.

“Nope, no need for supervision. We like to give the tutors space from the teachers while they work with others, we find that the students that need help take to that better.”

“Sure do.” Eddie spoke up, and you nearly flinched at how close he sounded. You glanced over and he must’ve just gotten out of the hard plastic chair cause he was slightly leaned back to give his body a stretch causing his chest to puff out a little, his hands moving to rest by his hips as he tugged his jeans up.

“What? Scared of me ‘r somethin’?” He whispered playfully, a hand moving up to rest over his heart as he feigned offense before his act melted away to show his usual smirk. He winked at you, and you swallowed nervously as you looked back at Mrs. White again who was blissfully unaware of his malevolence.

“So here you go… those worksheets and… a time sheet.” The woman grinned as she placed the last paper on top before sliding everything over. “You just have to add the dates that you study together, and you both have to sign each time. Ms. O’Donnell said writing a quick synopsis of what you went over would be nice too, but not necessary. The most important thing is seeing a difference in Mr. Munson’s grades.”

“Sounds good to me, Pam.” Eddie smiled at Mrs. White whose sunny demeanor sunk into a more serious expression while you put the papers away neatly in one of your folders.

“What have we talked about, Mr. Munson? Use my first name again and you’ll find your butt in detention this Saturday for such disrespect. Again.”

He puts his hands up as if apologizing for his actions, but he was still grinning ear to ear. Mrs. White eyed him with a tight lipped scowl, then looked at you.

“Good luck.”

You were gonna need it.

The ride to your house in his rusty van was surprisingly quiet beyond his music. You were on edge which he enjoyed like always, but he was clearly saving the torment for when he was inside your home. You wished your parents were home, even if they were tucked away in another room, but they were both gone for the weekend to attend your Aunt’s wedding. Not that you’d let him know that.

“We’ll be studying in the dining room. And no funny business. My dad’s in his office and he doesn’t like being disturbed while he’s working.” You lied seamlessly, making your way over to the dining table, Eddie lazily sauntering along.

“Oo does daddy have a temper?” He teased in a whisper. “Gonna come out and spank you if you bother him too much?”

He gave you a mocking pout and your face scrunched up with irritation.

“Just sit so we can get this over with.”

“I’m sorry are you under the false impression that you’re in charge here, doll face?” He questioned, keeping his anger mostly disguised by his inquisitive tone.

“Well, I’m the tutor so-“ You scoff out, avoiding looking at him as you pulled all of your study materials from your bag.

“Yeah and that means something to me because…?” He drew out his last word as he spun on his heels and casually walked away.

“I- what-“ You sputtered. “What are you doing?”

“You know it’s awfully rude to have a guest and not give them a tour of the place.” He spoke casually, grabbing the ends of picture frames hanging on the walls to get a better look at them before letting them drop back again. You were hot on his heels, fixing every frame he left crooked. He paused at a picture of you from camp in a bikini with some of the friends you made that summer, smug and sucking at his teeth a little as he eyed the image of you.

“Real cute…still got it?” He looked over at you, his hair shifting over his shoulder as he eyed you. “Wanna model it for me? Make all this worth my while?”

Your cheeks were starting to turn pink.

“We have to study.”

“Eh.” He shrugs, and looks over to spot the staircase behind him. He slunk around the corner and made his way up the carpeted steps.

“Hey- hey! You’re not allowed up there!” You shout after him, rushing to follow after him. He was already on the second floor when he turned and shushed you.

“Don’t wanna make daddy angry, right? He’s hard at work if I’m remembering correctly.” He whispered with a joking concern for your father’s focus who wasn’t even here, and you worried he knew that. He continued on along the hallway and you stayed behind him, wishing there was something you could do to get him to stop. He opened doors along the way, inspecting the interior with a mild curiosity. The upstairs bathroom. Your parent’s room. The spare bedroom. Then-

“Ah, here we are.” Your bedroom at the end of the hall.

“Please get out of my room.” You pleaded, but he continued on his quest. He looked at the makeup on your vanity, toppling some of the products over like a careless cat before moving on. He toyed with any photos in your room, sniffed at the perfume bottles on your dresser.

“Eddie-“ You started, clenching your jaw as he found the perfume you wore the most often and sprayed some of it on the crotch of his jeans. Then he just kept a hold on it as he waltzed around your room, spraying it several times just to waste your favorite product.

“That’s rude.” You spoke up, your lips pouting slightly. He snickered at your comment, how you sounded like a wronged child.

“Aw well if you need to touch up your perfume at all, you know where to get it.” He grinned, pointing to his groin before continuing to go through your things. The concept was strange but still made you clench simply from the thought of having to rub at his bulge to get something you wanted. He didn’t waste that much of your fragrance, but the idea was still burning in your mind.

He muttered disapproving comments at the posters on your walls and the cassettes he rummaged through until he got bored. You were nervous about interfering even as he invaded your privacy, until he was opening your top drawer to go through your panties and bras.

“Hey! That’s too far!” You gasp, rushing over to slam the drawer closed again. He shoved you back and opened it again.

“Quit being so fucking uptight.”

“Quit going through things that don’t belong to you!” You talked back which was still surprising him every time you did, but certainly didn’t let it show.

“Yeah well quit pissing me off before I put you in your fucking place.” He seethes, giving you an angry warning look that felt like fire all over you. You wanted to cry, to tell him to stop being so mean to you, but it would be useless. You’d just end up feeling pathetic as he laughed over your misery. You just had to stand there and watch as he kept going through your underwear drawer.

“Ooh, cute. I don’t think I’ve seen these yet.” He clicked his tongue and blew out an impressed breath as he held up a black lacy number. “‘d love to leave some stains on these for you, doll face.”

“You’re disgusting.” You blurt out, but the thought of his cum spurting onto your new pair of panties made you feel warm. He smirked at your frustration, tucking the underwear into his pocket.

“Those are new!”

He shrugs, shoving the drawer closed again with enough careless force to knock over a picture frame perched on top. He doesn’t seem to care until he’s spinning around with his finger pointed at you and that wicked look on his face.

“You know what, though? You bring up a great point.” He tugs the lace from his pocket and holds it up to his nose before letting out a disappointed sigh. “Now that’s a problem. Still smell like whatever cutesy store you got ‘em from.”

You have a moment of hope that he’s trying to be nice and provide an opportunity to give them back to you, even if he’s going about it in a dirty way. But that doesn’t last long, even when he’s tossing them back to you.

“Why don’t you put ‘m on for me, huh? Then when you give ‘em to me on my way out I’ll have proof of how fucking wet I get you.” He spoke so smoothly as he got closer to you, that it almost blanketed the filth of his words as something soft or even sweet.

“As if.” You scoff out in a huff, and there’s a fury to his gaze that you don’t understand.

“Yeah… as if.” He murmurs darkly, getting closer to you. You swallow nervously and take a step back. “Cause fuck me, right? I’m just some good-for-nothing asshole who you wouldn’t give the time of day. Not a priss like you.”

“I-I’m not a-“

“Oh dad!” He’s suddenly shouting at the top of his lungs in a sing-song manner, his body whipped around to face your doorway, and your eyes go wide.

“Stop-“

“Hey! I just wanna meet Mr. Y/L/N! Spending time with your lovely daughter!” He spoke with a passionate respect that you knew was coming from a hateful place. He had gone to your doorframe and was listening for any kind of response. A verbal acknowledgement. The sound of steps or creaking floorboards to tell him there was actually going to be someone to confront him.

His grin became devious as he went to the steps again. “Hello?” He calls, dragging out that last vowel.

“Will you quit it!” You hiss, tears prickling at your eyes now at the thought of him realizing you were all alone. Just you and him. And that you had lied to him.

He was turning around, sure now that the only people in this house were you and him. His dimples were pushing into his cheeks again as he sucked at his teeth, approaching you at the doorway to your bedroom like a cocky killer. The kind that you saw in horror movies that knew they had their prey cornered and could have some fun with it.

Out of nerves and a need to keep a barrier between the two of you, you took a quick step back and went to slam your door shut so you could lock it, but he got there in time to stop in with an outstretched arm. He pushed it open so harshly that you were sure there would be a dent in your wall where the doorknob was forced into it.

God, you couldn’t stand the way he looked right now. So proud. So smug. That shit-eating grin that told you he knew he was winning. That fury from before still lingering. He noticed the gloss to your eyes and tuts as a mocking pout reaches his lips.

“Upset about somethin’, doll? Someone got you all worked up?”

You huff out your nose, your lips screwed into a frown and your eyes still stinging with unshed tears.

“You’re so… so… mean! I hate you!” You shout, and without even realizing it you had stomped your foot at your last statement. It makes him pause, his expression unreadable for a moment as he considers everything until it all lands on amusement. He crosses his arms over his chest, grin wild and his hair flowing with him as he tilts his head with intrigue.

“Did you just stomp your foot at me, princess?” He teases, and your face feels so hot you wonder if he can see the flush of pink even through your foundation. He can. You refuse to answer him, fighting back the urge to fully cry in front of him. He’s getting closer though until he’s brushing up against you and looking down at you. God, he’s so warm.

“Aw… such a sensitive girl. Look at you.” He murmurs as he continues backing you two up until you’re pressed against the wall, one of those posters he disapproved of crinkling against your hair. He’s making fun of you like always but there’s a softness around the edges of his words. Blurred by a desire to do just about anything to you. He reaches his hand up to drag the pad of his thumb over your pouty lower lip before bringing his hand down to grasp you by your chin.

“Bet your pussy’s just as responsive as the rest of ya, huh?” He whispers as he makes you look up at him. Your nostrils flare momentarily and you keep looking up at him but you still won’t speak and you still won’t let those tears fall.

“I bet your cunt is just as weepy. All hot and wet when I’m fucking you into shape.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to refrain from whimpering or letting your lips part for a soft sigh. Anything that would confirm how badly you want him to figure out just how right he is. But then his anger flares back up as he’s gripping your jaw now, squeezing just enough to make it uncomfortable.

“Speak when you’re spoken to.” He demands in a low voice with a sort of growl to it that makes your knees weak. You part your lips as you consider answering him like you’re told, and he raises his brows while waiting. Then, in a brazen defiance, you spit in his face instead.

He’s so solid it’s almost like he doesn’t care. Not a flinch or a crack in his demeanor. Then he’s moving his hand from your jaw to your throat and gripping onto it enough that you gasp.

“I’ve been spat on my whole fucking life, you think that’s gonna make a difference here, princess? Think that’s gonna make me respect you? Think you’re brave?”

Your hands reach up to rest over his on your neck, a mewl vibrating from the back of your throat. He leans in closer to your face, your lips parting wider as he tightens his grip.

“It just makes me think you’re stupid.” He finishes before spitting directly into your open mouth. He’s releasing you from his grip right after, wiping your saliva from his cheek while you catch your breath. A soft moan escapes you before you can keep it at bay and his inflated ego is tangible. He’s eyeing you with a sort of amazed intrigue that pulls him back to you, his arms lifting to place his hands on the wall on either side of your head.

“You like it, don’t you?” He laughs and you shake your head furiously, but he isn’t buying it. “You could’ve gotten my ass suspended—hell, even expelled—ages ago. And yet…?”

“I just felt bad that you’re such a fucking idiot.“

“Dirty girl.” He hisses inward through his teeth as if burned by your words, but you were just egging him on.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” He wondered in a soft tone, hand back to your jaw as you stayed quiet. “Will you kiss daddy with that mouth?” He added with a lazy grin, exuding dominance and arrogance.

You became a little slack jawed at the implication, and he was on you. Hand still on your jaw, he pressed his lips to yours. You feigned protest at first with a few kicks and smacks, but then he had your wrists pinned against the wall and you sunk into the kiss. He kept you pinned for a few moments, until he was sure you were relaxed. He dropped his hands down to completely engulf your waist in his arms, and keep you pressed against him. The kiss was filthy with anger-fueled lust and slips of moans on your end and grunts from his.

“I hate you.” You whispered in between kisses, his hands moving to grip your ass now.

“Yeah you do.” He chuckled proudly against your lips before beginning to trail his lips down your jaw to your neck. Your eyes fluttered closed, hands settled on his muscular back as he sucked and bit at your neck, messy hair tickling you. More sounds slipped from you with no attempt to hold them back, a teary whimper hanging on your lips after he bit down on your neck hard enough to pull a yelp from you.

“Gonna mark you all up…” He muttered against your skin, making your head swirl.

“Gonna have you walking into school and have everyone know who you belong to.” He pulled back now, breathless and his full lips all pink with attention. His eyes were dark with lust, and it all made you whimper. The sound made him laugh in disbelief.

“Yeah? Such a slut. Bet you can’t wait to walk in with my hickeys all over you. Might even fuck you in the back of my van beforehand. Make you go to class full of my cum.”

You almost can’t believe him or yourself as you nod your head dumbly with a desperate pout. He groans at the sight and pulls you to him again, his lips back on yours as his hands reach down to hook under your thighs and lift you up. You’re quick to wrap your legs around his waist, a soft cry escaping when he starts grinding against you. He’s so hard and feels so pressed into his jeans, you’re both afraid and alight at the thought of just how big he probably is.

Eddie made his way over towards your bed until his legs made contact with your bed frame. He pulled away from the kiss to drop you on the bed carelessly. You lifted your torso up by digging your elbows back into your mattress, legs bent up at the knee and parted for him while you watched him undo his belt. He noticed you staring, and his gaze traveled along your form. Your knit sweater. Your pleated skirt.

“Take that shit off.” He said with a slight jut of his chin in the direction of your top, hands paused at the waist of his jeans and boxers. You hesitated at first, mostly at his hesitation to pull down his bottoms, but also out of nerves that your body wouldn’t be good enough. He made fun of you for just about everything. Surely he would tease you for that too.

“Did I fucking stutter?” His voice rose just a touch, his expression showing his impatience. At that your eyes went a bit wide again, and you lifted your sweater over your head and then the t-shirt you had on underneath. His hand was under his undone jeans, palming himself through his boxers as he looked over your naked torso.

“Bra too.” He murmured, and your nerves subsided from the way he looked at you. It was all hunger and lust and some impatience, but that was common. But no mockery. He wasn’t gearing up to make fun of your body cause he’s been waiting to see it. It was even better than he imagined, and he stopped a groan in his throat when you unclasped your bra and put it off to the side.

“Fuck…” He sighed out, squeezing his hard cock in his fist. You arched your back, which he initially enjoyed, until he realized your hand was moving to unzip the back of your skirt.

“Hey.” His harsh tone broke through, his free hand slapping your thigh. “Did I say take the skirt off?”

Your lips parted, and he jerked his head forward with a wide, frustrated gaze. It was as if he was saying “Hello? Earth to Y/N?”

He rolled his eyes as you shook your head no, and moved your hands away. He muttered under his breath and settled himself between your legs before deciding you weren’t close enough. His hands grasped your thighs to pull you closer, a surprised giggle bubbling in your chest from the action. He didn’t acknowledge it because he was trying to not let it show that it made him want to smirk. Just like when you get all teary-eyed. Or stomp your feet. Or finally get enough nerve to talk back. Even getting a giggle out of you made him smug, despite the fact that he had only ever seemed to enjoy making you miserable.

Eddie flips your skirt up onto your stomach, licking his lips at the sight of the light blue cotton panties he had already seen in the lunch line today. He finally tugged his jeans and boxers down below his balls, and started pumping his dick in his hand. Your nerves lit up at the sight of it—thick and with a bit of a curve to it. You wanted to see more of him, but the likelihood of that was slim to none. He enjoyed the control he had in this relationship, and that meant he liked having you almost completely naked in front of him while he was practically still dressed. He smirked as pre-cum beaded up on his tip and let it drip onto the fabric of your underwear. He dipped down to drag his tip along your covered slit to make a mess of your panties with his pre-cum. You inhaled sharply at the feeling, biting the inside of your lip whenever he nudged your clit.

“I like these panties…” You complained, knowing how much better it would be for him to ruin a pair of underwear you love.

“Aw…” He tutted, leaning over you as he mimicked the pout on your lips. “Don’t tell me that cause then I might have to cum all over them. ‘N I thought you wanted it inside.”

You mewled again, nodding your head which he mimicked too. The little shake of your head, the sound you made.

“Such a whiny, needy girl.” He said as if he cared. He hooked a finger under your panties and tugged at them, fighting the fabric over your legs one handed before holding them up to his nose. His eyes were trained on the sight of your sopping pussy as he breathed in, his cock twitching in his fist. He cursed under his breath, only pulling the fisted cloth away to stuff into his back pocket. His now free hand moved forward to drag his fingers through your slit, proud to feel how soaked and puffy you were already.

“You a virgin, doll?” He purred, tilting his head with a sickeningly sweet grin, the curled corners of his lips devilish. It was saccharine and mean. He figured you’d say yes because no one at school seemed to want you, but then you shook your head.

You lost your virginity at that summer camp you were at in the picture he was ogling earlier. It was awkward and felt strange, and you didn’t have much experience beyond that, but you weren’t a virgin. You thought he’d like you better this way anyways, already ready for him to fuck, but it ticked him off.

“No?” He asked, pushing two thick fingers into your cunt and making you gasp. The pressure on that sweet spot right at your entrance was buzzing with pleasure, but it still ached a little. “Guess you’re the little slut I always thought you were, hm?”

He was pushing his fingers in deep and curling them up into that spongy spot that made you whine and your thighs tremble.

“Who is he?” Eddie urged, his expression back to the irritation you were familiar with. You weren’t answering, all of your focus on his thick fingers and the rings that adorned them pinching the edge of your entrance.

“Who. Is. He?” He repeated, moving his face a bit closer to yours in bursts with every word, his head tilting to the left then to the right then back to the left to punctuate his words. He was slowing it down for you like you were dumb, and his fingers stopped moving—all of this making you huff.

“No one-“ You whine hopelessly, and he was starting to pull his hand away but you shot yours out to grip his wrist and keep his fingers deep between your legs. “No one, no one important.” You continued. “It was at summer camp, he’s not even from here. Please-“ you nearly sobbed, and it was enough to make the man groan as he leaned over you.

“Oh… please what, doll face?” He murmured, hand that had just been wrapped around his dick sinking the mattress down beside your head.

“Please- please don’t stop.” You whimper softly and he smiles sweetly down at you while pulling his hand away anyways. It was just for a second, enough to make you want to cry, but then he was plunging them back into your fluttering hole again. He added a third finger, barely giving you even enough time to enjoy the first two, the stretch making your lips part a little.

“God, you’re desperate.” He snorted, his hand angling a bit differently to let his thumb catch your clit. He watched with pride as your head tilted back and your back arched. Your thighs kept twitching and your walls were clamping down around his fingers more and more—he could tell you were close.

“Eddie…” You drawled, breath catching as your body braced itself for the mind-altering pleasure of your orgasm, but just as you approached the top—he pulled his hand away. You let out a distressed cry that made him laugh. He cooed at you, his hand that had been pumping his cock moving to rest on your cheek. Knowing where it had been made it even better, made it filthier. It made you wonder how many times he had just touched his dick before touching you.

“That’s for letting some random loser fuck you.” He whispered after leaning down so close that his nose was occasionally brushing against yours.

“‘m sorry…” You whine, tears of pleasure and pain having already slid down from your eyes and back towards your ears—leaving your hair damp and cold.

“You’re sorry, what?” He urged, nudging his tip against your folds.

“I’m sorry I let someone else take my virginity.” You were a blubbering mess, teary-eyed and needy.

“You’re gonna make up for it, though, right?” He purred, his tip already pressing into you and you nodded enthusiastically with a cry, your hips twitching forward.

“That’s my girl.”

Your lips parted, your lower lip quivering when he pushed into you until his hips were flush with your ass. You let out a sort of choked whimper and he groaned.

“Fuck you’re tight…” He sighed with content, sliding back before sinking back in until his tip was kissing your cervix. “Not even a virgin and I’m still gonna have to work to split this cunt open, huh?”

He was grinning again over that, over the grip your walls had on him from such a foreign stretch. It ached in the best way possible except for the occasional thrust that pinched and made you yelp out a small “ow.”

“S-so big… you’re so big…” You babble, your mind fuzzy. Your pupils were all blown out and you watched him fuck into you like it was the best dream you ever had. You eventually tilt your head back, letting out a happy hum as your hips push outward to feel him as deeply and as harshly as possible. He mimicked the sounds you made and the expressions you made from his thick cock hitting all the right places and stretching you enough that you knew you were going to be sore. All day tomorrow you were going to get brief pangs of aching that would remind you of how full you were of Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. He was all you could focus on, and you didn’t even realize you had been whimpering his name over and over under your breath until he made fun of you for it.

“Fuck you.” You huffed defensively, only for his amusement to bolster.

“Ha!” He cackled right in your face as you looked up at him with glossy eyes, pink cheeks and pouty lips. “Already are, sweetheart.”

Soon enough your sounds annoyed him though, especially the more demanding they got. Harder. Faster. Slower. More. Please. So he flipped you over onto your stomach and had his hand on your head to press your cheek into the mattress as he mounted you again—all with a casual “God, just shut up.”

At this new angle he was driving into you with a force that reverberated throughout your whole body every time he slammed into your cervix or that gushy part of you. You felt dizzy and breathless, every stroke of his cock against your ridged walls shooting off sparks. After being so close just from his hand to now, you were steadily approaching an orgasm again—just praying he’d let you keep it this time. He must’ve noticed because his free hand was reaching down to rub your clit. Your eyelids fluttered, a sob being muffled by the comforter you were biting down on. The sound of skin smacking, the tired springs of your bed squeaking, Eddie’s panting and grunting, the chain of his wallet clinking every now and then, the wet and pornographic sound of his cock plunging in and out of your pussy—it all seemed so loud for a second and then felt muffled the next as you came undone around him. You moaned out his name, whimpering cries on the tail end. You could feel your walls fluttering around him, clamping down and then blossoming back open then clamping down again in a mind-swirling rhythm.

“That’s a good girl…” He purred in a way that might’ve been too sweet from him if it wasn’t laced with a condescending tone. “Gonna cum in you, ‘kay?”

“Uh-huh-“ You moan, body aching as he picks up the pace again, fingers tangled in your hair with a painful grip. You can’t see him, but his head is tilted back completely blissed out as he fucks into you. You felt amazing, even better than he imagined which was pretty damn astonishing considering the pedestal he already had your pussy on in his imagination. He was so close, and a brief thought of getting you pregnant nearly sent him over the edge. He was mean. So fucking mean. That was the most devious thing he could do. Fill you up and make you all round with his kid.

“Shit-“ He pants out. “Gonna fill you up, babe.”

“Please-“ You beg, pulling an incredulous chuckle from him.

“Such a good girl… always take everything I give her.” He breathes out, leaning down to trap your body between him and your bed, his hand moving your hair away from your face. “Takes everything I give her at school, and she’s gonna take everything I give her in her bed, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, please-“ You sob, gasping out with the next few sharp thrusts against you until there was this warm feeling blooming inside you as he groaned against your back. He gave a few more thrusts after cumming inside, letting out happy puffs of air. You remembered how content that guy was when he unloaded into his condom inside you in camp. That blissful look on his face before he pecked your lips then lied next to you. Eddie didn’t bother with a condom, didn’t press a little peck to your lips and he wasn’t so quick to pull out either. When you squirmed a little he shifted so he was pushed up deeper into you, pulling a gasp from you which made him smirk against your skin.

Eventually he leaned up to bite your shoulder and then he slid out of you. You were still a little out of it, purring out a whiny hum as you nuzzled your quilt. Your legs were still spread and slightly bent up while you laid there on your stomach, and as he adjusted his softening dick back into his boxers he saw his cum slowly started to seep out of you and onto your comforter. Ever the gentleman, once his pants were zipped back up and his belt was buckled he landed his palm on your ass cheek and turned you over as you huffed over the action.

“See you Monday.”

“But we… we have to…” You fought to find your words through the haze. Study. You had to study.

“Bye, doll face!” He called out as he made his way downstairs.

You pouted a little, wanting to beg him to come back and stay with you. Maybe even go another round, but you were so spent that you just laid there.

When you got your energy back enough to force you to get up, you went to pee and clean yourself up before heading downstairs. Unsure of what to do with yourself, you made your way over to your backpack and you spotted the writing on the time sheet. A smile tugged at your lips. Instead of the date he wrote his phone number, and for the synopsis of today’s tutoring session he wrote “sex ed” with a winky face, and then signed where he was supposed to.

God, you were so fucked. And you were going to need a new time sheet.

#eddie munson smut #mean!eddie munson #bully!eddie munson #perv!eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things smut

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shinjisdone · 6 months

Text

When You Have An Secret Admirer - And Everybody Thinks It's Them (2; Savanaclaw)

A love letter was left at your door and now you are searching for that 'secret admirer' - everyone wants to help you out...but have their own reason for it.Yet now, it seems like there are quite a few misunderstandings on campus...and everyone thinks they have finally found that secret admirer.

Spin-off of the first 'secert admirer' series + form of headcanons

note: reader is gender-neutral but mostly mentioned in 2. pov; a series of everyone being mistaken for the secret admirer. headcanon will follow each char. own thoughts on the situation.]

"Hey...you think he could be the famous admirer of the Ramshakle prefect?"

Tag list: @justm3di0cr3 , @a-small-tyrant , @twistedcece , @savanaclaw1996

1;Heartslabyul

3; Octavinelle

Leona Kingscholar

Ugh...this can't be real.

Savanaclaw students are usually not the type to gossip among each other...but they are cocky, believing their lazy dormleader won't ever hear a word of their rumors.

Well...they were wrong.

The first time Leona had heard of such...stupidity - of him being the secret admirer - he literally pulled a face.

They can't be serious, are they? He doesn't hold a lot of expectations on anyone but he had hoped his dorm wasn't that dumb.

He is surrounded by idiots.

It isn't flattering, it isn't clever to even wonder if the Leona Kingscholar could be the secret admirer. Not the lazy, pessimistic, easily bored Leona Kingscholar.

He is actually someone to approach the topic when he passes by a gossiping group. Telling them with a snarl to use their brain and if they really believe - key word; Believe - that he would do such a thing.

Does Leona show any ounce of passion and motivation to do the things the admirer did? Is he such a lovesick kitty that he'd be cowardly enough to keep his affections secret? Does Leona hold any kind of high regard for the herbivore?

His dormmates fiddle with their words, finding themselves nervous and speechless...

Yet at the last question...

One is brave enough to point out that, yes, dormleader Leona is fond of the prefect! You'd maybe have to really pay attention but once you do, his affections and reliance are as clear as day! ...For Leona's standards at least.

That would actually annoy him.

Pissed off he seems and the students turn tail. It is frightening to see the usual nonchalant Leona being angry and any mention of him and you, especially of his feelings for you (which don't exist!) leave him pissed off.

Usually he wouldn't care...but he can't deny the vexation he feels whenever he just senses people's eyes on him, knowing exactly why they are staring at him.

Idiots.

The dormhead will order Ruggie to put an stop to these rumors, he doesn't care how. The latter feels kind of lost on how to do such a thing, so Leona orders him to send any nosy Nancy to him. He'll have a private talk with them.

Speaking of talks....ugh, it seems like he'll have to talk to you too, to clear his name.

Though you aren't that idiotic to believe that he is the secret admirer, right?

"Listen, herbivore...you know me. You know how I am. I'm not your secret admirer."

He is brief. However...depending on your reaction, Leona might leave with his mood more sour than usual.

Either you wanted him to the admirer...and he isn't. Or you were relieved he was not...meaning you never wanted him.

No matter how it might turn out, Leona will make a face and leave without a word.

Ruggie Bucchi

Eh, heheh...what?

That isn't funny...

Really, really confused. Are people really suspecting him to be the - the secret admirer? Ha! Shishishi! Th-that's ri-ridicilous...!

Sheepishly laughs any questions off. It can't be...are his feelings really that obvious?!

Ruggie tries to shrug them off and get on with his daily life but the more this holds on, the more curious his dormmates become and the more embarrassed and annoyed he gets.

Like, seriously! What's this supposed to be, huh?! You tryin't to ruin his already ruined reputation?!

He can't have that! Just imagining what Leona would do...

Despite the embarrassment, Ruggie is more annoyed than anything. He always saw himself as a sneaky fella, so to hear how clear and obvious his favouring is to you, is...inconvinient.

He first tries to lighten the mood, joking at his own expense that he could no way be the secret admirer. C'mon, look at him!

Cannot really give any reasons to his defense though. It would make it seem like...he likes you less and his hard work that he did for you was for nothing.

The only time he is honest with everything is when he goes to you to explain himself.

"Hey...I know what you've heard and what yer thinkin' maybe, shihishi...but, uh, it ain't me. I mean, c'mon! Look at me! I'm already working myself to the bone, that extra work would leave me bedridden, haha..."

Ruggie clears his throat, sheepishly avoiding your gaze.

Jack Howl

Now this could be interesting.

Suspecting Leona and Ruggie to be the secret admirer is a bit of an far-fetched idea...but most students agree that it makes the most sense if Jack was the admirer actually.

"Think about it!", One students says, "The rough and tough Jakc...he's always taking care of the prefect so sweetly...he must have a secret romantic side that he can only show as the secret admirer!"

Jack is....flabbergasted to say the least.

Him??? The secret admirer - and WHAT ARE THEY SAYING??? SECRETLY A ROMANTIC???

UHM- No! No, that's not true at all!

>:(

He tries to act all offended and angry...but that is a shield to hide his embarrassment.

Jack wouldn't consider himself that harsh...and that reversed either but...him being a romantic at heart secretly and...l-longing for you?! C'mon, that's a made up story! Anyone can see that!

Honestly though! Do people seriously think he'd go out of the way to become some secret admirer to show his aff-affections and l-love to you...?! Th-that's...! Ugh!

Genuinely upset and lost. He doesn't want to hear any of this! Especially since it is true but noone would believe him obviously!

He growls and snarls and while that does scare many away, others believe that only amplifies his true feelings and how he uses an nonchalant, rude attitude to hide them!

Shut up! not like it is kinda true thou

Jack is just...stumped. Completely stuck. He asks for Ruggie's, Ace's and Deuce's help to just somehow...get all of this to stop!

(Ace may suspect him to be the secret admirer since how incredibly and sincerely kind he is to you...and he may be jealous, while Deuce, red in the face, straight up and loudly asks with a stutter if he really is the admirer! - Which Jack immediately denies.)

Ruggie knows Jack to not be careless and as an honest soul, so he suggests to have him clear his name to you. It might help.

So he does. With narrowed eyes that avoid your own, a hand scratching his neck and a deep, scarlet blush dusting his face.

"Uhm...everyone's...I mean, everybody's been so...obnoxiously loud and confident in their claims but...you know it isn't me, right? Because it isn't. I would never lie to you."

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #gender neutral imagine #twisted wonderland x reader #savanaclaw #savanaclaw x reader #secret admirer #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #jack howl

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wordstome · 6 months

Text

kingdom come - iii

king König x princess & assassin reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, afab reader, romance, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, kind of age gap because König has been king for a good chunk of time but it's not really much of a factor, fantasy/medieval setting

7.7k words

tw: explicit smut, animal death, mentions of child death, violence, mild body horror, ableist language (use of the word "cripple")

[PREVIOUS] [NEXT]

"I'm not going to sleep with you." -quote from woman who is about to sleep with him

There’s a portrait of a woman in your room.

Of course, König offered to have it removed or replaced, but you’ve procrastinated the decision because you never thought you would be here long enough for it to matter. Yet here you are, staring up at this lovely young woman on the wall.

You tilt your head, studying her. Her expression is neutral, almost pensive, but the artist captured a playful sparkle in her eyes, as if she’s keeping some sweet secret.

It’s the first queen, of course. König’s first wife. The one who died many years ago. It’s strange that after so long, he hasn’t gotten rid of the portrait.

What happened to you? you wonder. If someone had asked what you thought when you first arrived here, you would have said, without hesitation, that König had her killed. All your life, you had been taught that he and his father were evil, unfeeling tyrants. Now, this conviction has wavered.

You keep trying to tell yourself that it’s ridiculous, to be thinking better of his character. You only ever wanted to know him better to kill him. But the more you understand about what makes him tick, the less you think that he would do such a thing. Perhaps it’s true, then, that she died in childbirth.

Your eyes travel all over the portrait, poring over every detail of her features. Did you know him? Did you understand him? Did you love him?

Did he love you?

What did that feel like?

“Good. You haven’t left yet.” Calliope comes into the room, bustling with energy even before the sun comes up. You don’t know how she does it.

“We’re about to.”

“That’s why I’m here.” You notice she’s wearing gloves, but more importantly, she’s holding a necklace: a silvery chain with a small, intricate pendant. Vine-shaped pieces of metal hold a white, almost clear jewel in place, its various facets reflecting the candlelight in vivid colors.

“Jewelry? I’m going to be living in the woods for the next few weeks,” you tease as she lowers the necklace over your head. It does look quite durable, but you’re not exactly dressing for a costume ball here.

“Consider it a reminder that I await your safe return,” Calliope responds, securing the necklace behind your neck. “Look at it and remember me. You’re not to do anything reckless out there, am I understood?”

“Understood.” You give her a soft smile as she arranges the necklace on your collarbones. You’re grateful for the gift: though she can’t come with you, a small piece of her will always remain with you.

“Good. And don’t let that handsome husband of yours distract you and get yourself killed.”

“Calliope! What happened to ‘something’s not right with him’?”

“That doesn’t mean he isn’t handsome!”

You snort and roll your eyes, but there’s a smile on your face.

You used to think that living in König’s home already exposed you to an exhausting amount of the man. As it turns out, going on a journey with him is even worse.

There’s nobody else to talk to, nowhere to run or put distance between you two when he frustrates you. It’s not so bad for the first few days: the towns surrounding the capital are still populated enough to provide some respite from him. But once the two of you have made your way outside the bounds of civilization, it doesn’t take long for things to become stilted and awkward.

“You’ve been awfully quiet since we left the last town.”

“I don’t feel talkative.”

“Really? I’m out of my mind with boredom right now. Come, you’re not in the mood to get to know each other a little?”

You give him a look. “What else is there to know? I’ve lived with you for several months.”

“But we don’t talk.” König nudges his horse to walk closer to yours. König is such a large man, his horse is massive too: comically so, next to your normal one. You let out a sigh.

“There’s nothing to know about me.”

“I doubt that. All I know about you is you’re a princess trained to be an assassin. ‘Your whole life’, according to yourself,” he says with a touch of mocking.

You purse your lips, determined not to let him get under your skin. “There’s nothing else to know.”

“Truly? Nothing about what you like?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like…your favorite food. Or hobby.”

“Hobby? …I suppose I spend a lot of time at target practice.”

“That’s not a hobby.”

“It’s relaxing to hone my skills.”

He gives you an amused look. “You remind me of myself as a young man.”

Something about that irks you. “We’re nothing alike.”

“I used to have the same mindset as you, at least. I held one objective in my mind and didn’t seek purpose outside of it.”

“I…”

As much as you loathe to admit it, he’s right. You have been focused on one objective your whole life. If you probe deeper, you can’t remember having any friends outside of Calliope, nor any interests outside of the curriculum your father set for you. “It wasn’t as bleak as you seem to think it was.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not like I never had fun. I had my own way of finding it.”

“Such as?”

“Well, when my training progress stalled, I’d be sent to bed without dinner. Naturally. I eventually learned how to climb out of my window at night and go foraging in the woods for something to eat.” A smile curls your lips as you reminisce. “Eventually I even worked my way up to hunting—little things, like squirrels. I spent many a cozy little evening cooking for myself over a fire.”

You turn to find an abject look of horror on König face. “What? What’s wrong? Is there danger?” You turn around to scan your surroundings, but nothing immediately jumps out at you.

“No. No danger. I just…he sent you to bed with an empty stomach so many times you learned how to crawl out of your room and hunt squirrels to eat?”

You blink at him. “You’ve never had squirrel before?”

He looks scandalized. “Of course I have! That is not the issue with what you just said.”

You shrug. “It was important discipline. Besides, it gave me hunting experience at a young age. Squirrels are hard to skin, but I could do it in twelve seconds flat if you gave me one now.”

König looks like he wants to say more, but instead he looks up at the sky. “We should make camp soon.”

“Is it that time already?”

“It needs to be set up before it gets dark. We should also start hunting while it’s light out—not all of us can catch things in the dark, squirrel-girl.”

“Hey!”

Later, you’re both chewing on a rabbit when he speaks.

“You know, when you said you wanted to travel with me, I was quite concerned.”

“Yes, I know. You didn’t think I was capable of handling myself.”

“Not just that. I was worried you would be…unaccustomed to living rough.”

“You thought I would be a spoiled princess.”

“I wouldn’t have put it that way, but yes.”

You snort. “Well, now you know. I can handle myself in the outdoors.” You toss the rabbit bones you’ve just picked clean into a small hole dug into the dirt. When you leave, you’ll cover it with dirt to prevent predators from smelling the remains and following you on your journey.

“You want the other leg?” you ask. König seems startled, for some reason.

“You caught this one.”

“Yes, but you’re bigger than me. You need the food.” You reach up to pluck a leaf from a nearby tree and wipe your hands. Rabbits sure are greasy…

There’s a strange look in König’s eye as he regards you. You raise an eyebrow at him in response. “What?”

“…nothing.” He reaches for the rabbit while you shrug and walk off to find some water. The back of your neck prickles as you go, as if his stare is physically touching you.

You can’t stand to be near him nowadays, and you don’t know why.

Of course, you have no choice but to. There’s a tension that feels weighty, forbidden. You know he can tell, because he’s been more cautious around you, giving you as much space as he can afford to. Somehow, that irritates you even more.

Tonight, the two of you are camping in a dense, thick part of the forest not far from a road. It’s quiet, secluded: even the usual soundscape of ambient animal noises is silent.

The fire crackles and pops as you stare into the flames, as if you’ll find any answers in it. Instead, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as König returns from washing himself in a nearby stream, approaching you from behind.

“This won’t work if you’re constantly upset with me for some unknown reason.”

You don’t turn to look at him, though some invisible force compels you. “Why? Because it makes you uncomfortable?”

“I’m worried about your comfort too, you know. If you just told me what I’ve done wrong, then we can resolve it before it breeds resentment.”

“I’m just stressed.” Everything he does or says seems to irritate you nowadays, but you know in your heart of hearts that it’s not his fault. It’s your own problem—you assume camping outdoors for so long has taken its toll on your psyche.

He frowns at you, but doesn’t pry any further. You can’t help but watch as he walks around to the other side of the fire, drying his hair with his shirt. God, he is a work of art: all chiseled muscles and glowing skin. Your eyes travel down his torso, drawn by the line of his abs, down to the happy trail leading to the slightly askew waist of his trousers.

“You’re drooling, princess.”

Your eyes snap back up to his face. His eyes are dancing with mirth as he realizes he’s just caught you ogling him. You make a face at him, but it only makes him laugh. “Was not.”

“Incorrect answer. You should have attempted to strike at my ego. Now I know you were looking.”

“I think I’m just being driven mad by spending so much time alone with you in the woods.”

“I know several ways to drive you mad, sweetling.”

You slouch against a tree, your face hot—and not from the fire. In a blink, he’s standing before you, with a gleeful expression on his face like he’s just discovered a cure for dropsy.

“I know what’s making you sour as vinegar. You need to be fucked.”

You bury your face in your hands, unable to look at him. “I thought we had moved past this,” you groan, trying to ignore your rapidly quickening heartbeat.

“What, your ever-growing carnal lust for me?”

“You being a pervert.”

“I’ve never made a secret of it. You, however…” You suck in a startled breath as he leans down, trapping you against the tree just like he had the day you sparred with him. “You’ve been denying yourself.”

Your breath is ragged as he looks you in the eye, the tension between the two of you as taut as a bowstring. A familiar sense of panic rises in you, the same way you feel every time he’s close to you like this. Before, you thought it was because it felt dangerous to be so close to your enemy. Now, you’re second-guessing yourself.

“So what if I have?” you mumble.

“There’s an easy way to fix that.”

“…The last time you had me in this position, you were threatening me.”

He tilts his head slightly, a wicked gleam in his eye. “You don’t feel threatened now?”

You don’t respond immediately, and heavens forbid, he takes it as hesitancy, his demeanor instantly transforming. “One word. One word, and we will never speak of this again. But if you tell me you want this, I will fuck you senseless.”

“Yes,” you whisper, and his lips on are on yours.

It’s a strange sensation, considering half of your mouth is pressed against the cold, smooth surface of his mask. You don’t even ask him about removing it—it’s become a part of him in your mind. And maybe part of you even finds the mystery of it alluring.

You all but melt into the kiss, against him. It’s different, everything is different than that first awkward kiss from when you were younger. It makes you ache, makes you long for him in a way you’ve never wanted someone before.

You have to separate to breathe, but your reluctance to break apart from him is clear by the way you chase his face with yours. He laughs at you, but it’s not condescending at all. It settles in your chest, warm like honey.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you murmur.

“Luckily for you, you’re in good hands.” It’s the cockiness in his voice that does you in, what makes you let go and give yourself over to him.

You feel flustered, awkward, and like the least desirable creature on earth, but he looks at you like he wants to devour you. Like there’s nothing else he wants more than to have you right now.

“You can trust me,” he says softly. You try to respond, but suddenly find you’ve gone mute. All you can manage is a small nod.

To your surprise, he lowers his mouth to your neck. You gasp, a full-body shiver running through you as he kisses you there, sucking and nipping at you as he goes. “W-wait, I’m—”

“Sensitive? I can tell.” You squeak as he continues to lavish you with attention, his fingers trailing down the front of your torso to undo your pants. His movements are deliberate but slow, giving you plenty of opportunity to stop him. But of course, you don’t.

You let out a quick little breath as he finds his way to your pussy, his deep chuckle reverberating against your throat. “You’re so wet…did I do that to you, liebling?”

You’re about to respond, but instead let out a sharp gasp as he dips a finger into your pussy. “How are you ever going to take me into this tight little hole of yours…” he taunts.

Oh, God, you hadn’t even thought about that. Your mind flashes back to your wedding night, and the first time you tried to kill him. You had mostly been shocked by his audacity, but only now do you recall how big he had felt between your thighs.

He’s gentle with you at first, patiently stretching you open as you whine and beg in his arms. You just about sob when he finally pays your clit attention, circling it with his thumb, and in what seems like no time at all, you’re cumming, hard.

“That didn’t take long at all,” he says with that awful smirk of his.

“Th-that’s not fair,” you stammer. “You know…”

“I’m only teasing you.” He presses a quick kiss to your forehead as you come down, shivering with pleasure.

He makes you cum twice with just his hand. Your legs are trembling by the time the two of you properly get undressed. You’re soft and pliable, helpless putty in his hands as he lines the tip of his cock at your entrance.

“Ready, liebe?” he asks.

“That is not going to fit,” you say, eyes wide and fearful. There’s absolutely no way, you think, staring down the absurdly thick and long monster between his legs.

“Trust me, remember? We’ll take it slow,” he reassures you. You bite your lip and nod, giving him the go-ahead to sink into you.

Instantly, you realize that no matter how well König could have prepared you, there was no chance that it would have been enough to ready you for the stretch of him. You feel like you can hardly breathe as he splits you in half with his cock, your mouth dropping open in a wordless cry.

“Fuck, you are tight,” he groans, but he keeps his promise to go slow, feeding himself inch by inch inside you until he’s sitting snug up against your cervix.

The two of you stay there, suspended in a moment in time, connected to each other in the most intimate way two people can be. It makes your head spin, makes you dizzy with the sensation of his body pressed against yours.

You nod, and he starts to move.

If you had thought before that his fingers felt good inside you, then his cock is something else. The delicious stretch of him is almost electrifying, and you wonder how you went all your life without it.

All you can do is let him take control—you don’t have the presence mind to do anything but hold onto him, gasping and moaning. He’s all around you, above you, inside you, and it feels like nothing else in the world matters, or that there is a world other than König, König, König.

Your third orgasm surprises you, waves of pleasure flowing through you as you cry out, your pussy sucking him in as if it wants him to stay inside forever. That’s what seemingly pushes him over the edge too, a string of expletives bursting from him as he floods you with his cum.

You’re limp and weak, all but purring as he shifts to lay next to you and pulls you into his chest.

“You are sweet when underneath me like this,” he purrs.

You swat him in the chest, but it must feel no heavier than being hit by a branch, because he just laughs.

“There’s no reason to be shy now. I’ve seen everything at this point.” You pout at him—something that only seems to bring him delight, because he pulls you in for a kiss.

“This isn’t how I wanted to take you the first time,” he says, a hint of shame in his tone.

Your heart twinges with affection. This isn’t how you imagined your first time, either, but the idea of him wanting you so badly he thought about it beforehand, fantasized about it even…“I’ve slept in trees before, this is nothing,” you reassure him.

He shoots you a concerned look. “You continue to share alarming events from your childhood.”

You sleep together that night, curled up against him with your legs tangled with his. He falls asleep first, the slight rumble of his chest as he sleeps against your cheek. You lay awake a little while longer, watching him, breathing him in. Now, you have no choice but to be confronted with the truth that you’ve been refusing to acknowledge this whole time.

You don’t hate him anymore. You don’t even dislike him now. And you certainly don’t want to kill him.

On one hand, things are easier. Crossing the line feels more like having torn down a wall, with no more need for pretense. On the other, König is somehow even more insufferable than before. Or perhaps insatiable is a better word for it. You go from having daily sexual tension with him to daily sex, period.

It’s like the floodgates have opened. He’s always loved to tease you, but it gets a hundred times worse now that he knows just how to make your cheeks feel warm.

“I was thinking…” he muses one night as you cuddle by the fire. “You may have to start riding on my horse.”

“Don’t I already do that?” you ask, sleepily playing with his hair.

He snorts. “Your susceptibility to my corrupting influence is truly something to marvel at.”

“You’ve been enacting psychological warfare on me for months.”

“Anyhow, as I was saying.”

“Your horse is quite large, but I don’t think it could handle me astride it as well.”

“Well. Certainly something else that’s large could handle that…”

You sigh. “Get to the point.”

“It’s becoming quite distracting, watching you moving up and down with the horse’s stride.”

“I cannot believe you. Innuendos twice in a row?”

“This is a legitimate grievance!”

“Riding on your horse would not fix the problem. Unless you plan for me to sit behind you in the saddle, which I refuse to do.”

“You’re no fun.”

You lean forward to kiss the corner of his mouth instead of responding.

Your newfound…activity, however pleasingly distracting, can’t eclipse what comes next.

The mood is somber as you arrive in the village: it’s a quiet, sleepy place, just a scattering of simple houses dotting rolling hills and one singular street lined with buildings in the center of it all.

In sharp contrast to his playful, almost jubilant mood on the road with you, König instantly snaps into his authoritative persona. It especially suits him when he puts on the hood: it makes him seem that much more intimidating and threatening. Almost inhuman.

The first order of business is to hold counsel with what passes for the leader in this tiny village: a local merchant patriarch. He’s a sturdy man in his older years, face lined with both wrinkles and scars. He must have been quite the warrior when he was young: you can tell by the way he carries himself.

He gives both of you the lay of the land, and it’s a grim predicament indeed. Herding the livestock is a job most often given to the children, as it’s a relatively safe job with less skill required than the tasks the adults take care of. That’s changed, of course, with the arrival of the beast a few weeks ago. He confirms the most gruesome details that have been brought before König by previous messengers, and it turns your stomach just to imagine it. Those poor children…

The two of you set off early the next morning, with directions from an experienced hunter who had been keeping track of the beast and reporting its movements. At first, it feels normal: just another walk in the woods with König. The solemn silence between the two of you serves as a stark reminder that this isn’t like normal—followed promptly by increasing signs of a presence in the woods. Snapped branches, giant pawprints, and worse, streaks of blood.

Then you break though into a clearing, and your blood runs cold.

The beast before you could only be described as a wolf for lack of a better descriptor. It’s monstrously large, being König’s height and half again, with all of its proportions just slightly wrong: its legs scrawny and just slightly too long for its body, the snout lean and far too sharp to fit the rest of its head. Dried old blood crusted into the fur of its muzzle and chest belies the savagery of the creature, even streaking onto the fur along its neck. And the most obvious tell-tale sign of an unnatural creature is that fur: a dark, rusty blue that shifts with impossible pinpricks of light, like the night sky is ensnared in this feral animal’s coat.

You heard its growl before you saw it. But now when it lays eyes on you and König, it opens its snout and…speaks.

“What do we have here?” The voice comes out as a broken, reedy croak, as if stretching vocal cords that haven’t been used in a long time.

Something about it raises your hackles, like your body’s responding to an ancient, ingrained fear. Fae.

“Don’t listen to anything it says.” König’s voice is suddenly soft, dangerous. “None of it is trustworthy.” Slowly, deliberately, his hand moves to his back and draws his sword.

“Ah, the boy king,” hisses the beast. “You simply couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“You’re eating my subjects,” König responds. Your eyes flit to where his hand tightens its grip on his sword. “This is not personal.”

“But it always is, is it not?” The beast and König circle each other, like two combatants in an arena. “You are as ever driven by your past mistakes.”

“König, what is it talking about?” You feel like you’re witnessing a conversation you shouldn’t be, but you feel helpless to do anything about it. If you tried to make a move towards the beast now, it would have its jaws snapped around you in an instant.

“It’s lying, liebling. It’s what they do. It’s trying to throw you for a loop so it can catch you off guard.”

“Liebling now, is it?” The beast lets out an awful, barking laugh. “My, the two of you have come far. But not far enough, it seems.”

König gives you a quick, sidelong glance, then tilts his head back towards the beast. The message is clear. We need to distract it. I’ll keep it talking.

“From her response, it seems you’ve been keeping secrets from your lovely little bride.” The beast shakes itself, its fur puffing up to look larger and more intimidating.

“There’s nothing to keep. None of that is important.”

“I would beg to differ. And if your liebling knew what it was, she would disagree as well.”

“You know nothing about us,” König growls. Yes, you’re in a life-or-death situation right now, but the viciousness in his tone sends an excited shiver up your spine. You’re opposite König now, almost completely hidden behind the beast’s monstrous form.

“You know nothing about each other!” Before either of you can react, the beast whips around. Its glowing-white eyes are fixed on you. “Not that it matters any longer.”

You barely have time to scream before the beast is upon you.

“No!” König’s voice rings in your ears. You can feel the creature’s hot breath, its vile drool spilling onto your clothes, its teeth closing around your neck—

Time slows to a crawl, the events unfolding one after the other in sequence. The first thing you’re aware of is the beast’s roar of pain, booming deafeningly all around you. I’m inside its mouth, you think numbly. The second thing you notice is your necklace: it’s glowing red, as if the metal has become molten hot. But you don’t feel any burning sensation, just a faint tingle.

The third thing you see is König shoving himself between the two halves of the beast’s snout, physically holding it open with his body.

It’s truly an impressive sight, like watching Atlas hold up the sky. For a brief moment, all you can do is stare up at him in awe.

“What are you doing?! Get out!” he yells, and you snap back to your senses.

You roll aside out of the beast’s range, scrambling to get back on your feet. König dodges out of the way just as the jaws snap shut.

“Is that..?” the thing wheezes. You rush to help König up as it glares balefully at you. Its beady eyes focus on the pendant around your neck, narrowing in disgust.

“Calliope,” it spits. “I should have known. This bears marks of your meddling all over.”

Your blood runs cold. “What did you just say?” What does your lady in waiting have to do with this?

“You—” The beast doesn’t get a chance to finish its sentence, because König takes advantage of its consternation to stick his sword into its neck. The creature bellows in pain and lunges at König, who barely manages to dodge the strike but loses his grip on his sword in the process. The monstrous animal whips around and around, attempting to grab hold of the sword with its teeth.

“Strike, now!” König calls before promptly getting clocked in the head with the pommel of his own sword as the beast thrashes and screams.

You don’t hesitate to spring into action, unsheathing a wicked-sharp blade as long as your forearm and sprinting towards the creature. König’s left you a perfect opening: as long as the beast is trying to get ahold of the sword, its chest is wide open for attack.

You don’t waste the opportunity. With the running start, you leap forward, sinking the blade into the wolf’s chest, right where its heart lies. The long, keening wail that the beast lets out is confirmation that your blade has struck true.

You have to throw yourself into a roll to get out of the way before the massive body crashes down on top of you. It lies on the ground, its heaving breaths growing shallower by the moment, its wounds staining the ground with a faintly shimmering golden ichor. So the fae do have golden blood, just like the old legends said, you think, watching the macabre scene with stunned terror.

“Brought low by two fae-touched mortals with barely a fight…” the beast huffs. It sounds weary and resigned to its fate, strange for a creature that had seemed so deadly and menacing just moments before. “Fate is cruel.”

“Fae-touched…what do you mean?” you ask, eyes widening. “Wait! What do you mean by that?!”

The beast doesn’t respond, its chest now hardly moving with its breaths. It’s not long for the world, now.

Behind the hulking, dying animal, you spot König staggering into a standing position. “König!” You gather yourself and rush towards him.

He’s visibly unstable on his feet, swaying slightly and looking dazed. The sword must have hit him hard, because his hood has been partially torn away. Despite everything, though, you can’t see any visible blood or injuries from this angle. Until he turns.

A bloodcurdling scream tears its way out of your throat. König cringes slightly at the sound, but you can’t help yourself. The sight is terrifying.

The skin above one half of his mouth is simply gone. He has no lip, not even any flesh up to his nose. His upper teeth and gums on one half of his mouth are just exposed, giving him a grim, unnatural appearance. He looks like Death itself, resembling the skeletal depictions in the manuscripts.

You should be afraid—scratch that, you are afraid. But you realize quickly your fear is not of him, but for him.

“Did it do this to you?!” you say, panicking. You dash forward and grab ahold of his face, turning it so you can examine the injury more closely. The act seems to startle König, who simply looks down at you in confusion.

“What are we going to do? There’s no way this village has a healer who could dress this wound…” you fret. An injury on this level is almost certainly a death sentence if he doesn’t receive adequate attention immediately, and he certainly won’t last the night if you’re forced to travel by horseback again—

“Schatzi…” König grabs your hands with his and removes them from his face. “I’m fine.”

You stare at him in shock for a moment. “You—how can—you—”

He heaves a heavy sigh, as if a massive burden has been placed on his shoulders. “I’m alright. The wound is…not new.”

“How can it not be new.”

König screws his eyes shut for a moment as if trying to gather his composure. “It’s been this way since I was young. Look,” he says, touching the area with a finger. “There’s no blood.”

On closer inspection, you realize he’s right: not only is there no blood, but the skin around his mouth and nose appear to be completely healed. And not even as if it were a true wound: there’s no scarring, no uneven flesh. The skin and muscle are simply…missing.

“What…how…” You’re at a total loss for words. Since he was young? What happened? How had he survived such an injury as a child? You have a million questions, but you find yourself unable to ask any of them.

You watch him, stunned, as he walks past you towards the beast’s body. It lays completely still now, all semblance of life having fled from the corpse. With one hand on the grip and one foot braced against the beast’s body, he wrenches his sword free, then bends to pull your knife out.

“I know you must have questions,” he says, wiping the blood off of both weapons onto the wolf’s fur with a grimace, “but I can’t answer them here. Please, if I promise to explain, will you…will you wait until we’ve left the village?” He turns to look at you beseechingly.

“I…” Now that the adrenaline and initial panic is beginning to fade, your whole body feels heavy and exhausted. You don’t have the energy to be angry, or afraid, or demand an explanation now. You have no choice but to agree, nodding quietly. König seems relieved at your calm response.

“So that’s why you always wear a mask or a hood,” you say numbly as you watch him take the ruined hood off, shaking his head to get the hair out of his face. He gives you a sad, regretful look.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”

“Did you mean for me to find out at all?”

“I never meant for anyone to find out.”

The villagers throw a celebration. A modest one, to be sure, but the relief on the peoples’ faces is enough of a reward for you. You can tell König is glad to see it as well—though every time you look at his face, hidden once more behind his mask, you feel a twinge in your heart as you remember what lies underneath it.

You can’t find it in yourself to enjoy the celebrations, even as excited children and grateful parents swarm you to give their thanks. You give them all a smile and a kind word, but that’s all you can manage. Dread and curiosity mix to form a terrible feeling in your gut.

The days between your defeat of the beast and your departure go by in a blur. You’re grateful for the rest, but you can’t stop thinking, worrying, about König’s condition. You manage to stop being petrified that he’s going to drop dead of infection at any moment, but you can’t look at him anymore without thinking about it. About the secret that he’s kept from you, from everyone who’s ever met him. You can’t even wrap your mind around what it all means. You have no point of reference for what could have happened to your husband’s face.

Husband. What a strange thing, to be wed to someone whose full face you had only seen a few days ago, months into your marriage. You haven’t thought of him like that at all. He’s always been König: the king, the enemy, the annoyance. And your lover, you suppose. For the first time, you start to wonder exactly what kind of man you’ve bound yourself to.

Because it’s exceedingly clear to you now. You can’t kill this man. Not just because you don’t want to anymore, but because he might be unkillable.

The village hasn’t yet vanished in the distance behind the two of you when you speak. “What the hell?”

König’s eyes slide to you, then back to the road ahead. “Language.”

You sputter in indignation. “Lang—that’s not what I want to hear!”

“Forgive me. I couldn’t resist.”

“König, this is serious! You promised an explanation.”

“I know what I promised,” he says, a slight edge creeping into his voice.

“Well?”

König takes as deep breath. Inhale, exhale.

Then he begins.

“Well. What do we have here? You’re awfully young for this, little prince.”

He’s fourteen. He’s about to make a decision that will shape the rest of his life.

He had done as the crone’s old tome instructed. Bone from an animal slain in its youth. Flowers bloomed under the cover of pitch black night. A blade whet on the summoner’s own flesh. He’s knelt under the light of the full moon, round and blindingly white.

The ethereal creature standing before him is easily twice his height, with an unearthly glow to their skin and hair and a smile that could almost be mistaken for kind and benevolent on their unnaturally beautiful face.

He’s done it. He’s summoned a fae.

With no small amount of difficulty, he rises to his feet, leaning heavily on the cane that helps him walk. The fae lets out a noise of amusement as they watch the young boy struggle.

“Usually, mortals don’t gamble away their lives until they’re older, and greed begins to dictate their actions.”

He glares at the fae but doesn’t respond.

“Come, now. Do not look at me so. Give me your name, little prince.”

“…you may call me König.”

The fae’s expression sharpens, ever so slightly. “Clever boy. ‘König’…don’t you think you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself?”

“I want to make a deal.”

The fae sighs. “Straight to the point, I see. Well, I can’t fault your efficiency. Or is it desperation?” They smirk at him, their eyes taking the rest of him in. He knows he must make for a pathetic sight: a cripple with a harelip, spine curled and legs thin and spindly.

He doesn’t care. This is the last day he will ever be this pathetic.

“Let me guess. You wish to no longer be a cripple.”

“I want to be able bodied. I want to be strong enough to defeat my enemies. I want to be rid of my harelip.” Clear, concise language. He’s spoken these words to himself in the mirror countless times.

“You’ve certainly done your research. Then you know what price I will ask for such things.”

He swallows nervously. “Yes.”

“Very well then. Let us begin.”

It starts in his toes, the strange sensation that flows up through him that he will know all his days. He can feel the strength rushing into his limbs, feel his spine straightening, withered muscles coming to life.

Then comes the pain.

It’s white-hot torment, as if his body has become a living coal. He falls to the ground again, screaming and writhing as his bones crack and realign themselves. Somewhere, in the distance, he can hear the fae’s cruel laughter as they watch him suffer. For a brief moment, some primal, animal part of his brain thinks he’s going to die.

“Fret not, boy king. You won’t perish—I won’t let you until you give me what you’ve promised me,” the fae says, as if they can hear his thoughts.

He’s not sure how long he lays there on the ground, body wracked with agony. It feels like hours pass before he regains use of his limbs. But the pain does eventually fade away, leaving him dazed but still alive. Slowly, he manages to stand up again.

He stares at himself in wonder, legs and arms stretching. For the first time ever, he’s able to stand tall and straight on his own, his cane discarded to the side. And he feels strong. At last, he doesn’t feel weak for once.

“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” The fae’s face has changed: they still look the same, but there’s a beastly, ugly quality to their lovely features that chills him to the bone.

His hands fly instantly to his face. The harelip is still there, he notes with displeasure.

“You forgot something,” he says, frowning in his lopsided way.

“Oh, I didn’t.” Before König can react, the fae’s eyes hollow and grow dark, becoming two pools of endless void. Their teeth sharpen, their face grows gaunt.

“Remember what you owe, boy king,” they remind him. “On the day and the hour your first child is born, I will come to collect.”

He doesn’t even have time to scream before the fae reaches forward with black talons and tears off his mouth.

You’re rendered speechless by his story. Where do you even start?

Your first thoughts are of the way he described himself as a child. König, weak and crippled? König? You look at him now, eighteen hands high astride his horse, the picture of raw strength and dominance. You can’t imagine it at all.

Your second thought is— “You made a deal with the fae? Do you know how foolish that is? Fae never give you what you want, and the cost is always far too high!”

“Don’t lecture me,” he says tightly. “I know what I was getting myself into. I had no other choice.”

“What do you mean, no other choice? You were the king’s son—you are the king! You could have had servants carry you everywhere if need be!”

“You don’t understand what it was like,” König snarls, turning to you with fire in his eyes. “Nobody would have accepted a cripple as their king. My life would constantly have been in danger, having to rely upon others. Unable to even defend myself if an assassin set upon me in my bed.” He’s getting angrier, more worked up as he goes.

“I told you that I was once poisoned as a child with nightshade berries. Did you wonder why there was such a plant in my mother’s garden? Why the royal heir was unsupervised for so long in the first place?” König’s expression is twisted, his voice turned bitter with betrayal. “It was a plot against me by some of my father’s advisors. They conspired with my nursemaid to make it seem like an accident…they expected me to die.”

“I…I’m sorry, König. I didn’t think.”

He glances at you and takes a moment to collect himself before speaking. “I was lucky. My father sent for the best healers he could find. My mother cried at my bedside for weeks.” His brow furrows. “My lot in life could have been worse: my parents loved me, at the very least. But it made me hate myself even more—that I was such a profound disappointment.

“My mother had a difficult birth. Some whispered that it was penance for what my father did: that the spirits of those slain during his campaigns had cursed my mother’s womb. She never was able to conceive again…so all their hopes rested upon my shoulders. My crippled, useless shoulders.”

The venom in his voice when he talks about himself makes your heart ache with sympathy. You move your horse closer to his and put a hand on his arm, squeezing him in what you hope is a comforting manner. His expression softens as he looks down at you.

“It would have been easy for you to kill me if I were still like that, liebe.” You feel your face grow warm again at the term of endearment.

“It makes sense, your strength being fae-given…Calliope said there was something not right about you.”

“Calliope is a perceptive woman.”

You study his face, eyes regarding his mask in a new light. “It really doesn’t look so bad. I only reacted that way because I thought you were injured.”

He shrugs. “Never was that good-looking anyway.”

You make a face. “Are you suggesting I sleep with ugly men?”

“You’ve only slept with me.”

“I’m trying to compliment you.”

“You think I’m handsome?”

“When you’re not annoying me.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Well, now you know.”

You study him. He seems relieved to have finally gotten this off his shoulders. “Do you regret it?”

He gets a faraway look in his eyes. “…No.”

The village’s leader had advised an alternate path back home: it might take you a day or two longer, but it was less remote and lined with other villages. You arrive at the first inn just as the sun is about to duck beneath the horizon, the sky streaked with orange.

It’s a serene part of the wood, and the inn is quite quaint as well. Whoever runs it has done well for themselves, you think absentmindedly as you and König dismount and prepare to unload.

A side door swings open, and a quite frankly huge man walks out, facing away from the two of you. Your sense of scale is attuned to König now, so he’s of course not the biggest man you’ve ever seen, but he’s broad-shouldered and thick with muscle. You can’t see his face from this angle, but you can just about spot his blond hair—

“Shit. Shit.” König instantly spins around so his horse is between him and the man who’s just walked out of the building. You squint. Is he…hiding?

“What’s going on? Should I be worried?”

“No. Yes. Maybe.” Is he cringing? “Do you think it’s too late to set up camp?”

“Set up camp? When there’s a perfectly good inn right there?”

“Yes!”

“What has gotten into you? That man is quite big, but he’s not that sc—”

“I’m not scared of him, I just recognize him. And I don’t particularly feel like seeing him.”

You’re agog at the scene before you. “You’re the king.”

“Even kings have their hangups, alright?”

“I am not sleeping in the woods.”

“As your husband and supreme ruler, I demand it.”

“Come now. I know you’re tired of fucking me outside.”

That gives him serious pause, which almost makes you giggle. Ridiculous man. You could probably lead him onto an executioner’s block if you held him by the cock.

“Please,” you beg, stepping forward to hold his hand and giving him the biggest, most wide eyes you can muster. “I’m not ready to go back to sleeping on the ground yet.”

His face scrunches up in a hopelessly endearing, almost childlike way. “Fine. But you have to go in and talk to the innkeep. I’m going to stay out here.”

“I don’t know what all the fuss is, but fine. You big baby.” You hand him your horse’s reins and make your way to the front door of the inn.

You’ve barely pushed the door very far at all before you hear a friendly voice from inside. “Welcome, traveler! Come on in.”

“It’s wonderful to make your—” You stop in the doorway, frozen with shock.

“It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance, your highness.” A pair of familiar sparkling eyes look back at you. “And you can tell his majesty that he can come inside, I’ve already seen him.”

König’s first wife stands before you, watching your reaction with clear amusement.

Forgive me for that smut. It's been years since I've written anything nsfw, and I wrote this at like. 5AM after a very long day because when I'm not exhausted, writing smut becomes impossible. It's quite the pickle.

Well...I did say that part 3 was going to be a doozy! I'm looking forward to all the reactions...🤭

Comments and feedback are of course always appreciated <3

@kneelingshadowsalome @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @keiva1000 @catluvwr @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @channelsoph @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @lexuria @complexivelovely

#I hope I managed to tag everyone!!!#könig #konig #könig cod #konig cod #konig x reader #König x reader #konig x you #König x you #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty #mw2 #fic: kingdom come

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 28 days

Text

thinking about book 6 battle simulations

I was thinking a lot about book 6 lately! (Not for any particular reason, I was just ruminating, haha...)

During the examination segment, Riddle, Azul, and Vil were put into one group and Jamil and Leona were put in the other group. Idia then put them into VR simulations in which (simulated) Trey, Jade, Rook, Kalim, and Ruggie approached the subjects to upset them. This is for the purposes of STYX to gauge their combative capabilities and blot accumulation. What I noticed on another read of these parts was that Idia makes sure to inform all the subjects they are about to enter a VR simulation BEFORE they dive in... and yet despite this, group 1 (Riddle, Azul, Vil) was still caught off-guard when Trey, Jade, and Rook attacked them. Meanwhile, Jamil in group 2 automatically defers to Kalim but Leona is the one who notices something is fishy about the situation. Now, now... this is interesting 👁️ Why might this be, I wonder~ (You bet I'm going to analyze the heck out of these small details!)

***Main story spoilers up to book 6!!***

First thing to consider: it's possible that perhaps the characters don't fully understand what "VR simulation" is, as most of them did take a while to come to their senses. Of the 5 subjects, Riddle is the most likely to fall into this category. He seems to be slightly confused by the concept of a "virtual space" when Idia explains the examination to them (which likely conflicts with Riddle's very traditional understanding of "tests"). Furthermore, Riddle has expressed in Endless Halloween Night that his mother did not allow him to play video games or to watch TV so he'd usually do crosswords or solve other puzzles for fun. He's not completely technologically inept (like Malleus), but Riddle does have a somewhat limited scope of how items and procedures are to be used, especially if it lies beyond its normal means. It's likely that he has not thought of VR simulation being used in the scenario in which he finds himself in now.

The other 4 subjects, however, most likely understand what VR is and shouldn't be confused by the simulation. Azul is very savvy and keeps up with trends, which can factor into his business(es). He even brings up streaming as a potential source of revenue in book 6; man has his fingers on the pulse of pop culture to know what will sell. Vil, being a celebrity and the leader of the Film Research Club, must have an understanding of various technologies used to achieve certain effects (especially as director of his own projects). Jamil constantly deals with Kalim's requests and, being in Kalim's social bubble, must get exposure to all kinds of crazy technologies. Leona, being a knowledgeable prince, surely must understand the concept of VR simulation.

Okay, so... why did they (mostly) still get "tricked" by the simulation anyway? The key words today would be "trust" and "dependence".

Thinking about it, there's one thing that separates group 1 from 2: the boys in group 1 have a tendency to rely on others for support and validation whereas the boys in group 2 are consistently shown to be more independent than their peers (even if they, too, seek validation). Let's go through them one by one!

GROUP 1

Riddle

Riddle is presented as a tyrant that rules with an iron fist, particularly in book 1 where he stars as the main antagonist. However, it's also pretty blatant that Riddle has become increasingly aggressive due in part to others enabling him. Ace specifically calls out Trey for this, saying that his failure to intervene or to quell Riddle's temper has resulted in Heartslabyul students suffering for it. Cater is also complacent, as he and/or Trey often follow Riddle's orders and remove Adeuce from the dorm multiple times in book 1. Riddle relies on these upperclassmen to listen to him and carry out his bidding, and he feels validated when they do. It's a lesson he has learned from his mother. He is the most powerful, and therefore he should be the most correct. Notice how Riddle is quick to anger when others refuse to obey him and how often he demands for them to conform. He becomes enraged when the Heartslabyul mobs rebel and chuck an egg at him. But what hurts him most of all is, perhaps, Trey turning too. Riddle was mad about the mobs acting up, yes, but he still did not overblot. Not yet, at least. No, Riddle overblots only AFTER he tries to attack Ace with the rose trees... and Trey steps in with his UM to overwrite Riddle's collar, turning it into cards. Trey's relationship with Riddle cannot be understated here. In this very moment, Trey, Riddle's childhood friend (one of his first friends), vice dorm leader, silent yes man, his most trusted confidant, has betrayed him. He is proving Riddle wrong, that the most powerful mage is not the most correct. "Are YOU going to tell me that I'm wrong too? After all I've done to protect the rule of law?! [...] I... I refuse to believe this!"

From these examples, we can clearly see that Riddle is someone who is reliant on others--not that he isn't a capable mage, but rather he is reliant on others for his own sense of self-worth. Indeed, even in his post-OB flashback, he indicates feeling proud and excited when his mother praises him for good grades or successfully performing a spell. This is reiterated many times over in book 1, in which Riddle feels satisfied and even smug when his students fall in line, and spirals into uncontrollable rage when they don't. There are a select few whom Riddle has chosen to place his faith in, and Trey is one of them. Trey, who gave him his first slice of strawberry tart and has been supporting him as his vice for over a year now (since Riddle became dorm leader in his first week as a first-year student; now is the start of Riddle's second year). That's why he feels so hurt when Trey is suddenly chastising him, telling him that he's behaving irrationally.

If we reexamine Riddle's post-OB flashback, you'll notice that Riddle says he is lonely without every outright stating the word "lonely". The phrasing makes it sound as though Riddle does not understand his own loneliness, like he doens't even know the word or want to acknowledge it as reality. He is awkward and unsure around Trey and Chenya, who invite him out to play. He follows his mother's rules because he believes that is what will bring him happiness. He wonders why, in spite of following all those rules, he still feels hollow inside. Then, once Riddle has awoken, he confesses that he always wanted to play more with Trey, and that he wants to talk with everyone after a meal. Riddle. at his core, craves companionship rather than dominating his peers. Trey was one of the few friends he ever had, and so Riddle puts a lot of stock into his support. This may be why he was quick to believe the fake Trey in the simulation, and why he looked so shocked when Trey started attacking him. Here is a boy who has already been betrayed once, experiencing that same betrayal again at the hands of his childhood friend. How scared must he be of losing his oldest friend, of Trey turning his back on him or seeing him as a monster? 😭

Azul

Due to the bullying he experienced in his childhood, Azul works very hard to maintain a new image of someone who is cool, confident, and composed. Part of that is passing himself off as someone who is large and in charge, while posing Jade and Floyd as his lackies who do whatever he tells them to. The reality of the matter is that the twins are very much... there to do their own thing, and they just kind of go along with Azul's schemes because they seem to be a lot of fun. When you stop to consider it though, Azul definitely puts a lot of trust into the Leech brothers even though they're both shady and can be flippant at times. It's the twins going around and advertising Azul's services to the student population. It's the twins who help him expand his business and acquire new items (as all three's Dorm Uniform vignettes are about the Octatrio conspiring to acquire the rights to and/or advertise their new drinks). It's the twins who are asked to run the Mostro Lounge whenever Azul is absent. Time and time again, Azul falls back on Jade and Floyd. They've been with him since middle school.

In book 4, both Azul and Floyd insist that they aren't really "childhood friends", but they do consider each other "equals". As Azul describes it, "I strongly doubt Jade or Floyd have any binding allegiance to me. This is all and elaborate game of pretend to them. [...] If I made a poor choice as leader--or even simply a boring one... They would turn on me instantly and seize the dorm leader seat for themselves." Floyd follows with, "We ain't got any plans to challenge him, either... for now, anyway. Aha ha! [...] We stick with [Azul] now 'cause it's fun. If it stops bein' fun, we drop him like a bad habit. Easy." The twins and Azul are both very aware that their relationship is a temporary and transactional one. Azul himself has even fully considered the possibility that Jade and Floyd may one day turn on him. This is all true--however, I also believe it's possible that the Octatrio are not being entirely truthful to themselves and do actually care for one another beyond the confines of their business ties or "having fun". In book 3, Jade and Floyd sense that something is wrong, and their immediate thought is to go check on Azul because of this gut feeling. Jade warns Azul of the consequences of misusing his UM. They are also the first to check on Azul after his OB and insist that he rest and find it within them to gently tease him over the situation. Even the way they address each other is "special". Jade and Azul have a tendency to be polite and use the honorific "-san" after everyone's name... except for each other and Floyd. Floyd, meanwhile, tends to give everyone a nickname... except for Jade and Azul. They drop these naming conventions within their group because that's how much they know and trust each other. Further proof of this is that when Floyd first meets Azul in the post-OB flashback of book 3, he calls Azul "Octopus-chan". Azul used to have a nickname, but no longer has one. This implies that a lack of a nickname actually indicates that Floyd is more intimate with someone than if he had nicknamed them. The same goes with Jade and Azul, who are usually so formal and polite.

I've already established that Azul acts in ways which indicate that he is close to the twins, as much as he tries to deny it and come off as tough. He drops the honorifics for them and he trusts them to do his bidding. What I find most telling, however, is when Jade and Floyd check up on him right as he's about to OB. "Jade! Floyd! Ahhh, you've finally come back to me," Azul says (if you listen to his voice, he sounds SO relieved). "Would you believe that thanks to these FOOLS, I've lost all of my contracts? Which is why I'm going to need your powers now. Come on, give them to me!" This is notable because, prior to this, he was forcibly ripping powers out of mob students. But now with the twins--Azul makes a CONSCIOUS decision to ask Jade and Floyd for them to willingly give up their powers to him. Azul is emotional and acting without tact here, but he STILL stops to ask the twins for them to surrender their magic. He cares about getting their consent specifically. When the brothers deny him and Floyd says Azul has become lame, that's when Azul snaps. His loyal henchmen are refusing his request and he's lost all his accumulated wealth. He's going to become the weak, friendless crybaby he once way all over again.

Knowing all of this, it makes sense why Azul was as startled as Riddle was when the simulated Jade attacked him. Azul claims that he anticipates this day--but he still seems to disturbed when it actually happens. It's true that perhaps this surprise comes in part from Azul having no indication that the twins were getting bored of him, so this is coming out of left field in his perspective. But... it could also be that he's hurt by the sudden shift, even if he and the twins have been telling themselves all along that they'd toss each other out without a second thought once they lose interest. This calls back to Azul's concerns right before he overblots: that his "business partners" (whom he refuses to call his friends) have lost interest in him and will now leave him alone and with nothing. He relies on the brothers not only for labor, but as his company and his confidants. When that's taken away from him... what does Azul have left that's worth anything?

Vil

Vil is another person who typically passes as very independent. He looks after himself quite well and is often the one nagging others to do the same. The thing with him is... he's still a celebrity at the end of the day, and a celebrity like him is always aware of his public image and the eyes on him. That's Vil's Achille's heel: as a celebrity, he is constantly concerned with how others perceive him. This is a lesson he learns in book 5--that he shouldn't let other people's judgment of him or a silly popularity contest determine his self-worth. Ah, but let's remember... book 6 begins like a mere DAY after book 5. Sure, Vil's character arc may be over, but that does not mean that he has suddenly completely changed. Up until yesterday, he was aggressively training to overcome his rival and to show the whole world his true beauty. Vil still, to some degree, finds value in how he looks and how others see him, as it strongly ties into his career. To this end, he sees Rook as a valuable individual.

Now, there's a lot of contention about whether or not Rook is a good influence on Vil or not, as some interpret his commentary as derogatory or unnecessarily critical. I'm not going to get into that; here, I am going to speak plainly about how Vil himself views Rook's feedback. In Vil's Labwear vignettes, he confides in Trey that he relies on Rook's keen observational skills to reflect the truth back to him. A celebrity must look at his best, and he can count on Rook to not mince his words and point out even the most minute of changes at a quick glance. (Vil himself is also extremely strict with himself, but lacks the superhuman abilities that his vice dorm leader does.) Rook has been doing this since long before he even transferred to Pomefiore, critiquing Vil's performances and such, not just his looks alone. This led into long discussions and debates between the two, which demonstrates how much Vil values Rook's perspective. Even back then, Rook was one of Vil's greatest supporters, but not exactly a totally blind "yes man". He is offering the kind of feedback that Vil seeks, not empty, sugar-coated niceties. This is why, in spite of his betrayal at the end of book 5, Vil eventually accepts it, as he trusts Rook's keen eye and judgment. What's interesting about book 6's examinations is that Vil seemingly takes charge of his group. When approached by the simulated classmates, Vil steps up and, after a moment of silence, says, "No... It's nothing. Let's go." (Vil is known as a skilled actor and can easily sniff out an act himself. Was the silence hesitation as he, Azul, and Riddle reevaluate the scene? Hard to say, but I'm assuming that STYX's state-of-the-art tech was able to perfectly simulate Rook, and thus confused Vil and co. for a while.) Rook strikes him with a spell, and that invokes a great emotional reaction from Vil, who seems to be the most aghast of the group. The fake Rook then declares that he's going to claim the dorm leader seat from Vil, which shocks him. "As you know, I appreciate beautiful things. Hence... I can hardly allow someone who's acted as ugly as you to occupy the Fairest Queen's throne!" The scene then cuts away to a battle. Now, while we don't get any extra dialogue from Vil to show his reaction, one interpretation could be that he was stunned into silence. Why is this a believable occurrence? Because the fake Rook called Vil out for "ugly" behavior. This is significant because back when Vil was overblotting, he was desperately shouting for people to "not look at him" because he's "so ugly". Here, ugliness does not mean literal ugliness or something that is visually unappealing. The "ugliness" being spoken of refers to being morally rotten, as Vil was speaking on his guilt after resorting to dirty tactics to try and take out his rival (when he had previously sworn to win on his own merits alone). The simulated Rook might be referring to this, which induces great shame in Vil, who is aware of the weight of his sins. Heck, book 6 even starts with Vil taking accountability and sincerely apologizing to the whole NRC Tribe for causing them trouble. Vil blames himself for their team losing, as it was his OB that forced them to fight and physically wore them out before their big performance. "What does it matter who forgives me?! I can't... I can't forgive myself!" He may still have lingering guilt regarding this incident, hence why he's the one predominantly reacting when the vice dorm leaders betray group 1. His mirror and huntsman, who speaks only the truth to him, now tells him of his ugliness. What else can that be, if not the truth reflected back at him?

GROUP 2

Jamil

To be clear, Jamil did not automatically go after the simulated Kalim. He automatically defers and tries to go along with his dorm leader (and only starts fighting once Leona declares the simulation for the sham it really is). Why? Surely Jamil is sharper witted than that. To this, I say... of course, it's just that Jamil's so used to being a servant that he reverts back to submissiveness as soon as he's put in a circumstance where there's a power dynamic. He’s not the one relying on Kalim—Kalim is often the one relying on him. You need proof of Jamil's servile mindset? He was intentionally talking down his own skills ever since book 4 and, according to Azul, has been purposefully maintaining painfully average grades (which, in of itself, takes a lot of effort). Admittedly though, those are conscious choices, not unconscious ones. But how about back in book 5, when Vil announces him as one of the lead vocalists and Jamil's immediate reaction is not to accept it, but to humble himself and insist that Kalim would be better suited for it (when Kalim actually isn't)? Jamil has to stop himself, back up, and accept the nomination, which he has earned for himself, rather than relinquish it to someone less deserving. Years and years of serving someone else, forced to play the part of the inferior servant, will beat that attitude into his mind, regardless of how much he resents the position.

Even now, Jamil feels like he usually has to follow someone else's lead. Leona, the upperclassman and dorm leader, provides that lead for him in the VR simulation. This leadership + independence is something they would butt heads over later in book 6, as Jamil begins to act overprotective of his current charge (Leona) as he does with Kalim. While Jamil has played the part of Kalim's attendant and childhood friend, the reality is that Jamil cannot stand those roles. He desires to stand out and to be recognized--something which is evident in book 4. Before he brainwashes the Scarabia students, he's always framing himself in a positive and helpful light to them and speaks humbly about his abilities. After he brainwashes the Scarabia students, he has them heap him with praise that he had never gotten in his childhood. In the post-OB flashback, we see Jamil's parents scolding him for outperforming Kalim, even in something as simple as a game. The headmaster of a great arcane academy overlooks him in favor of someone far less capable.

Jamil knows he can be great, but he's intentionally being told to not reach those heights. He feels stifled and trapped, and no one understands his plight that he cannot escape from. This results in Jamil distancing himself from others and coming to rely on himself and himself alone to make his wishes come true. He can't rely on his family, who are beholden to their legacy of being servants to the Asims. He can't confide in friends because none of them are quite like him, and Kalim would ignorantly brush it off. He can't tell third parties because, as Crowley as demonstrated, they dismiss him outright. Jamil, as he acts throughout book 6, is doing so in an effort to find his own strength and to be able to act on it with the freedom he seeks. To play support not because he has to, but because he, the individual, wants to. As Jamil states before overblotting, he wants to "be free" from these precarious circumstances where a wrong move could doom him and his family... but he only has so many liberties to work with. This leaves him in a strange limbo situation where he still isn't fully independent but desperately wishes to be. We see him fighting against the restraints, and to varying degrees of effectiveness depending on the context and his state of mind within that context.

Leona

From a young age, Leona seems to have worked tirelessly to obtain recognition. Like Jamil, Leona was in such a position (second-born prince) that, despite his efforts, he kept being rejected and beaten down again and again. As we see in his post-OB flashback, this is what eventually broke Leona’s spirit and made him develop a pessimistic outlook on his prospects for the future. The thing is, even though Leona does not really have hope for himself, he still manages to inspire hope in other people, from underclassmen to the students of his dorm. Book 2 is entirely about Savanaclaw looking to Leona to save their own futures, and him trying to do so for their sakes. His club mates extol how he can so quickly hone in on their best skills and advise them on how to sharpen those skills. Jack admires Leona’s plays, so much so that he wished to one day play alongside Leona. He’s even able to get beastmen of different species to get along and live peacefully under his rule when this has historically been difficult for his older brother to manage. All in all, Leona has all the makings of a leader. He stands out from the crowd, knows when to leverage his power and intelligence (playing smarter, not harder), and commands with ease.

… That being said, Leona’s presence can be so powerful at times that it’s also isolating. This was the case for his childhood, which is depicted to us as many palace servants being fearful of Leona’s devastatingly strong magic. He also uses this strong magic against his dorm mates when their intentions clash in book 2–and he comes close to killing someone in the process. He’s also just notorious in general for being grumpy or unfriendly toward others, including one instance in book 5 when he seems upset that you’ve showed up in his classroom. Leona drives people away from him, whether because of his strength or because of his prickly attitude.

At the same time, i would also describe Leona as a tactician that keeps some degree of distance from those he commands. He makes it clear he's willing to use others to achieve his own goals and does so many times over. Book 2, when he tries to take out Malleus to help his dorm leaders while also trying to prove to himself that he's capable. Book 3, when he helps Yuu and co. dissolve the contracts including one of his own he made with Azul, etc. Leona knows how to best use his own abilities, as well as those of others. That's what makes him so formidable--he can read others and judge the situation extremely well, and he knows when it is smart to fight and when to tactically retreat (such as in book 6, when he immediately surrenders to STYX agents rather than make a scene). Leona is a self-sufficient man.

There’s the question of Ruggie, of course. Leona is often depicted as lazy and relies on Ruggie to do many daily things for him, such as laundry or fetching food. This obviously throws a wrench into the claim that Leona is more "independent" than those in group 1, doesn't it? He doesn't even come close to Jamil, who actually does all of these tasks himself. Well, not exactly. I don't think "independence" here really comes down to that alone. Riddle, Azul, and Vil all relied on Trey, the twins, and/or Rook to some significant degree to inform their own senses of self. Jamil had this belief of deferring to his "betters" (the Asims) instilled in him, regardless of his personal feelings on the matter. And Leona? Leona does not significantly rely on Ruggie for his self-worth (dude was 100% going to sand him in book 2). Yes, Leona was likely looking to help his dorm members in part to prove to himself he is capable of leading a pack, but he gives up when he realizes it was a fruitless effort. He doesn't become reinvigorated to keep it up or to try again, even when his dorm members (Ruggie included) plead to him. Leona is acting selfishly, and he refuses to acknowledge their perspectives--he's set in his own ways and is driven by his own thoughts, not those of the people around him. Perhaps this is what allows him to discern truth from lies with such clarity, as it is Leona who rouses Jamil to his senses and leads the charge against the VR simulation Kalim and Ruggie.

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milaisreading · 8 months

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Crossdresser!Y/N having a bunch of fangirls flocking them when there out in shibuya post U-20 match, and the other bluelock players getting jealous

🌱🩷: thanks for the request! Here u go, I hope u like it🫶🏻

Warnings: Reader is she/her, just crossdressing as a guy. The boys address her as he/him tho. Requests for this series are open

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura ⚽️

"Can you two stop daydreaming and concentrate?" (Y/n) and Isagi looked at each other, then watched as Ego scolded Bachira and Otoya for not listening to him.

"They can be funny at times." (Y/n) noted with a soft smile as Isagi agreed, laughing a little as they went to warm up. The stadium was already filling up with people, which made the Blue Lock team more nervous, even the ones who were usually more confident or laid back.

'I hope my parents aren't here...' (Y/n) thought as she stretched. Isagi looked over at his training buddy, a little bit concerned for the way she was acting.

"Everything alright?"

"Oh? Yeah, I am fine. Just pre-game jitters." (Y/n) said simply as Isagi raised an eyebrow.

"You sure? I have seen how you act during the 2nd and 3rd selection, even during the game against the World 5. You were a lot calmer than you are now."

'Busted!' (Y/n) flinched.

"Well... I am just hoping my parents won't be here... or my brothers."

Isagi tensed up a little, having heard about the strikers family weeks ago. They left a sour taste in his mouth, the way they forced his friend to be someone she wasn't.

"Don't worry." (Y/n) looked up at Isagi he held his hand in front of her.

"They won't come near you. You have the team and me to protect you." The girl smiled at the ace, not regretting letting him in on her secrets... even the one about her crossdressing.

'Isagi.' She was about to grab the boy's hand, when another's hand grabbed hers and quickly pulled her up.

"Gagamru?! You scared me!" (Y/n) shrieked at the goalkeeper, who nervously smiled at her.

"Sorry, but we need to get in line." The goalkeeper said, ignoring the glares he was getting from Isagi.

'Serves you right for hogging all of (Y/n's attention. He should be focusing on me- I mean, the game!' Gagamaru thought as he let go of her hand.

"Let's go you all. Ego will be on our asses if we don't hurry up." Otoya said lazily as he grabbed one of (Y/n)'s shoulders.

"Oh? Yeah, you guys might be right-"

The striker spoke, and then got interrupted by a bunch of screams from the benches.

"What even?!" Isagi yelled in surprise as the four saw a group of girls waving at them.

"Does anyone know them?" Gagamaru wondered.

"No... maybe those are your fangirls, Otoya-" but Isagi's suspicions proved to be wrong as the girls finally yelled out (Y/n)'s name.

"Ahhh! (Y/N)-SAN LOOKED AT ME!"

"GOOD LUCK, (Y/N)-KUN! I BELIEVE IN YOU!"

"THE BLUE LOCK UNIFORM LOOKS GREAT ON YOU!"

"CAN I PLEASE BE YOUR GIRLFRIEND?!"

The (h/c) haired girl was left in utter shock and embarrassment as he heard the girls, trying to laugh it off nervously. But Otoya and Isagi, who were agitated by the words took each of the striker's arms and started pulling him away from the girls, Gagamaru was left behind to send them a distasteful look.

'What a group of weirdos... (Y/n) deserves better.' The goalkeeper thought.

'No way will I let a bunch of nobodies get to him...' Otoya's glare deepened.

'I will protect you, (Y/n).' Isagi thought, deciding to make some small talk as they approached Niko, Chigiri, and Karasu, who heard the commotion and were all equally annoyed.

"Oi, donkey." Barou approached the group, scowling at the (h/c) haired striker.

"What?"

"Focus on the game. Not the girls." Barou said, sounding a little jealous as he got out of Otoya and Isagi's grips.

"You act like I asked for the attention." The girl rolled her eyes.

"Stop being mean to (Y/n)-kun, Barou. It's really unwarranted." Bachira said with an agitated smile.

"Yeah, tyrant king. Come on, (Y/n)-kun, I should tie your hair before the game starts." Chigiri said excitedly, pulling the girl to the benches.

"Slow down, Chigiri." The girl warned as Niko trailed after them.

"Can I brush your hair?" The youngest asked timidly as Otoya and Bachira ran after the trio. This left both Isagi and Barou staring down at each other.

"What are you trying to do, donkey? (Y/n) has been my partner since day one, why are you so fixated on having her for yourself?" Barou whispered the last part, fully aware that Isagi was the only other player who knew (Y/n)'s secret.

"You might have been her partner during the 1st selection... but don't forget who she picked in the 2nd and 3rd. She picked me, and I would pick her as my partner any day. Besides, king, she trusts me with way more secrets than you." Isagi said smugly as Barou grew more and more agitated.

'Just what does he mean by that?!'

After the game ended with Blue lock's clear win, the team was given a few weeks off and they decided to spend one day together in Shibuya... well, nearly all of them. Hiori, Kurona, Nanase, and Niko sadly couldn't join them. And Rin flat out refused after everything went down. After the attention he should have gotten from his brother went towards Isagi and (Y/n), the captain couldn't stand being around them for a while. But, the duo paid him no mind, too lost in their own world.

The day itself started off calmly, as they all went to a nearby arcade, and everyone was lost in some form of game. (Y/n) was playing a dance game with Yukimiya, Karasu and Otoya as a group of girls approached them... well, they were more there for the (h/c) haired striker.

"E-excuse me." (Y/n) tensed up as someone pulled on her hoodie and she turned to look at one of the girls.

"Yes?"

"Can... can we take a few pictures with you, (L/n)-kun? We are huge fans!" The blonde girl and her friends nodded their heads. Shyly, the striker nodded her head, still a little uncomfortable with all the attention.

'Wonder how this will end once it comes out I am girl.' She thought as each girl took a picture with her.

Meanwhile, Karasu, Otoya and Yukimiya stared at them in jealousy. Nobody should have the striker's attention now, except for them that is. Karasu pouted as one of the girls touched the other's hair, complimenting as to how soft it was.

'Stop touching him!'

Otoya's eye twitched as another girl asked (Y/n) what her ideal type was.

'Definitely not you.'

Yukimiya fixed his glasses as another girl how the two of them would make a beautiful couple.

'Absolutely not.'

The trio looked at each other and nodded their head. They made their way to the group, then Karasu and Otoya stood on either side of the flustered striker as Yukimiya decided to stand protectively in front of him.

"I am so sorry, but we need to go now." The model said as politely as possible as Karasu and Otoya started dragging her away while a satisfied Yukimiya followed after them.

"That... that was quite something..." (Y/n) laughed nervously as the trio softly smiled at his laugh.

"Yeah, it was~" The trio said.

The 2nd incident during the day happened at

a local karaoke bar in Shibuya. It was a pure coincidence that Chigiri opened one of the rooms of the karaoke bar, only to find the U-20 team inside. So now Chigiri, Bachira and Isagi were having either some sort of arguments with them or trying to calm everyone down... well, more like Isagi and Miroku were.

"Aiyah... what a day..." (Y/n) muttered as she watched everything unfold from the outside, when a door from behind her slammed open, revealing to her surprise two enraged women yelling at someone inside.

'What the hell?!' She thought, shaking a little as the women kept on yelling, not noticing her and the others staring at them in disbelief. They didn't look older than 20 by (Y/n)'s observation, then she turned to look around the hallway. And to her horror, everyone was looking at them.

"P-please, calm down." (Y/n) started speaking softly, causing the two women to stop and look at her on confusion.

"I... I am sure whoever is inside did mess up, but they aren't worth your yelling or anger." The girl said nervously, hoping she didn't offend them.

"Huh?" The shorter haired girl stopped for a moment, observing the striker's face. The long haired one widened her eyes for a moment and walked up to (Y/n).

"You are that striker from Blue Lock? (L/n)-kun?"

"Uhm? Ye-yes, ma'am." She said nervously and bowed. The two women squealed at that and were now on each side of her.

"The goal was amazing! The way you knew your way around the U-20 team was very interrupted to watch."

"Why didn't you give an interview? We would have loved listening to you!"

"A-ah... there was nothing much for me to say... besides, Isagi was the one who brought us victory." (Y/n)'s face flushed from how close the two women were and she backed away a little.

"So humble~" The sighed dreamily.

"How are you still single?"

"Well-" (Y/n)'s words got interrupted as Bachira wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling the girl closer to him as Chigiri and Isagi tried to play it nicely while shielding her from the two girls.

"Please don't make (Y/n) nervous... he is very shy around girls." Chigiri smiled as kindly as possible, but inside he was fuming.

'Back off.'

Bachira kept quiet, but intensely stared at the two older girls as his grip around (Y/n) tightened.

'My monster won't allow any of you to take him from me.'

Isagi was the only one somewhat calm, as he knew that (Y/n) wasn't looking for anyone yet. But the starstruck gazes she was receiving from the two were quite annoying.

'She is my training partner...'

The 3rd incident that day happened at a nearby bowling alley, where the Blue Lock team and U-20 team agreed to have a final friendly match for the day. Although (Y/n) wasn't much found of the sport, she agreed anyways as the boy's were excited for another friendly match. During the preparations, Aryu, Tokimitsu and her walked into Barou, who was bowling by himself as a group of girls was watching him.

"Barou? What are you doing here? I didn't know you were a bowling freak." (Y/n) asked in amusement as Tokimitsu panicked a little from the irritated stare Barou was sending the trio.

"Shut your mouth! I just like playing it from time to time."

"Now now, Barou. Yelling at someone as glam as (Y/n)-kun isn't really nice." Aryu sent him a warning glare.

"Yeah... it's really unwarranted." Tokimitsu added in, and to (Y/n)'s surprise he didn't stutter.

"It's ok, you two. I don't mind."

"How I speak with my training partner is none of your concern, Aryu." Barou said calmly as Aryu glared at him more.

"P-please calm down. We shouldn't fight in front of him." Tokimitsu warned them and the two looked at him for a moment.

"You are right..." Aryu sighed and flipped his hair.

"I can't lose my cool in front of (Y/n)-kun. He looks up to me-"

"He does not." Barou rolled his eyes. Tokimitsu sighed and looked back at (Y/n), only for his face to fall as he saw the girl's surrounding her. They were either asking him quite personal questions or just asking for a picture. Aryu and Barou's looks also fell a little as they saw the scene. Neither of the 3 liked this. After all, (Y/n) was their teammate. The trio looked at each other and nodded their heads, deciding to save the obviously uncomfortable striker from that mess.

"That was an eventful day." (Y/n) yawned as her, Nagi and Reo were on the train back home. The two looked at each other and nodded their heads.

"It was quite fun, but I think you should sleep for a bit. We still have a long way till we get home." Reo suggested as (Y/n) slowly nodded her head. Nagi used the opportunity and pulled his friend closer to himself. The duo watched as the striker slowly fell asleep.

"Reo... do you think we are losing him to Isagi?" Nagi mused as Reo frowned at that. Although he didn't like what Nagi said, he couldn't deny the close bond (Y/n) now shared with Isagi.

"I think so... but, we need to bring an end to this." Reo concluded as Nagi slowly nodded his head.

"We didn't spend all this time stealing those love letter aimed at him, and shooing fangirls away, just for us to lose him." Reo said, looking down at the sleeping striker.

"We need to make him remember who his actual partners are." Nagi grumbled, his hold on (Y/n) tightening.

"We need to see how close he is with Isagi... I need to know why it looks like Isagi knows more about (Y/n) than we do. Then, we can start destroying whatever bond they share." Reo concluded as Nagi slowly nodded his head.

#bllk #blue lock anime #blue lock manga #isagi yoichi #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock requests #reo mikage #chigiri hyoma #nagi seishiro #bachira meguru #gin gagamaru #otoya eita #karasu tabito #yukimiya kenyu #aryu jyubei #tokimitsu aoshi #barou shouei #crossdressing

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mias-blogs · 4 months

Text

𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐧, 𝐐𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐢 𝐇𝐮𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚 𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐚 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖

𝐟𝐢𝐜'𝐬 (𝐓𝐖: 𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

A quick thank you to anyone who voted!

🄿🄾🅂🄴🄸🄳🄾🄽.

𝐓𝐰: Overstimulation, nicknames, degrading, subspace, nipple play, reader is mean and rough

The once prideful god is now laying almost motionless underneath you, his hands laying next to his head as he whimpers and moans till his throat almost hurts, he can't even count how many times he had came, your hips still forcefully clapping down on his dick over and over again, as he feels dizzy everytime your soft and moist insides get tighter around his cock, he tried to keep up, he really did, but it's too much when you keep throwing insult after insult everytime he cums too early, of course he's sensitive, you won't even let him have a break.

“ You call yourself a ‘god’? a ‘Tyrant’? don't make me laugh.” you chuckled to yourself as you slammed your hips down hard, burying his cock deep inside, making him cum inside of you, his now weak hands tried to paw at your hips to push you away, his whining can't even be put into any form of words as he keeps on just begging between his sentences, oh, how great if felt to tear at his ego and crush his pride, having him all pathetic under you, what happened to that perfect god thing he had up?

“ One more.” you said as you start to move again, making the god under you whine as he seemed like he was about to throw a fit but too weak to do so, his blonde hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat, it was the nth time you said that in one night, why do you treat him like he's nothing but under you? like he's lower than all the mortals that he hates, he shouldn't be treated like this, he's a king, a god, you should bow in his presence, yet you taunt and torment him for your own enjoyment till he's forced into a mess.

Your fingers slowly trail up his chest, finding their way up to his pink nipples, as they reached their destination, you pinch his nipples tightly at the same time snapping your hips down on him, making him let out a yelp mixed with a loud moan as he throws his head back, his knees jolted up as he quickly falls back into his moveless state, his moans becoming louder as you play with his nipples harshly and at the same time ride his cock too fast for him to take, his head becoming dizzy as he tries to move his chest away from your gaze and your harsh touch

“ Stop whining like a common whore and take it, your supposed to be a god or something, right?” you taunt him again as you don't move your hands away from their place, pinching hard as you pull at them ever so slightly, as you almost immediately felt him cum again, looking down at his face, it looks like he's about to pass out from all of this, you chuckled under your breath as you slowly pull away letting his cock slip out of you with a wet sound as it slowly starts to spill out of you, that's probably enough for him, for today at least.

🅀🄸🄽 🅂🄷🄸 🄷🅄🄰🄽🄶

𝐓𝐰: Handjob, edging, nipple play, reader squeezes his (tits) pecs, overstimulation (implied at the end)

You currently have the first emperor of china up against your chest while you play with his cock and he struggles to not cum, his back pressed up against your breasts as his muscular arms hold onto your thighs tightly, his head thrown back against you shoulder as moans and pathetic whimpers fall from his throat, your hand doesn't stop as it reaches his tip, running your thumb over the slit teasingly and immediately pulling back as you feel a twitch from his cock that he's about to cum.

He immediately let's out a frustrated moan as his tip leaks out pre cum on his thigh, his hands strongly squeezing your thighs as he huffed is annoyance,“I- I beg of you..” the emperor chokes on his own moan as he tries to beg for your mercy, he's an emperor and you treat him as your own personal servant and toy, which he does find enjoyable but also tortures with how you don't even give him a moments rest.

Your hand almost immediately goes back to his cock, stroking up and down as a smile paints onto your face, your eyes looking at his cock and your hand continues teasing him without rest, your lips kissing his jaw as you pull him close to you, one of your hands that's on his stomach to keep him from slipping, slowly makes its way to his chest, gently squeezing one his pecs, putting his nipple between your index and middle finger as you pull at it gently, making him bite his lip as he struggles not to let out a whine.

But that is quickly put down the drain as you move your hand faster around his cock and pitch at his nipple at the same time, he let's out a whine and throws his head back in pleasure, as many loud moans fall from his throat right after and you feel his cock twitching, before you could pull away, he spills into your hand as he's panting heavily, his body limp against your chest, his cum being all over your hands and his thighs.

“Really? You couldn't even hold back one more time till I told you you could come?” you taunt at him as you look at his flush drowned face, he tries to gather his words and try to talk to you, but is quickly shut up by your hand starting to move up and down his shaft in a fast motion, no real intension of stopping any time soon, he just came and yet you do this out of the blue? now that's just cruel to your little emperor.

🄽🄸🄺🄾🄻🄰 🅃🄴🅂🄻🄰

𝐓𝐰: riding, begging, sweet talk (not really), nice and mean reader, orgasm denial

“ [Name]! I- I beg of y- you! pl-please!” the scientist words turn into mindless blabbering as he can't even think straight any longer, you keep going so slow, and he knows your doing it on purpose, you won't go any faster even when he begs, oh so sweetly to you, haven't you mocked him enough by treating him as if he's a crying child all this time? it's as if he's throwing a tantrum, but he's not, he's listening to your words so sweetly, yet you don't even ride him right.

“ Nikola.. your whining again, you know I don't like when you whine like that.” you muttered as you softly pet his hair as he buries his face into your soft breasts, wrapping his arms around your back as he tries and listens to your every order, but you make it so hard when your seemingly punishing him for something he didn't do, he can only nod his head as tires and calms down but when your pussy is so snuggly tight and wrapped around his cock like that, it makes it so hard to not try and thrust up to get some stimulation.

You hum as you move your hips slowly, a smile painting your lips as you watch him react, you know he needs more, but your not giving it to him, why? because he needs to have some sense into him, of course, he's a sweetheart of a nerdy scientist but he can be more oblivious than a damn rock, so why not make him whine and torture him for a tad bit?

Your hand brushes against the man's, now messy, short brown hair, twirling it around your finger gently as you brush it out of his face, kissing his forehead gently as the scientist looks at you with lost eyes in admiration and awe of you, the only god he was willing to worship, you smile down at him as he leans into your gentle touches, at the same time your hips start to move faster as you obliged to his earlier wishes, making the mans breath catch on his throat as his hands go to grip onto your thighs as he throws his head back in pleasure.

Pleads and thank you's leave his throat as he tries to pull you closer to him, your touch on his bare skin feeling like a blessing to him, his cock already so sensitive from the time you forced him to stay still while he was buried deep inside of you and your warm pussy was squeezing him so tightly he thought he'd cum right there, his moans growing louder as your hips moved faster against his, one of your hands placed on his shoulder for support as you leaned back to give him a view of what you were doing to him.

As he gets closer and closer to the edge of his climax, he feels your hips stop right as they slam him all the way in for the last time, he chokes on his breath as his head fall forward, burying his face into your shoulder as his arms are tightly wrapped around you, you were so cruel to your sweet scientist but he didn't let a word out, only swallowing his words as he was merciless under your sweet and loving touch.

I like being mean on this one, idk why

#ror x reader #snv x reader #snv smut #qin shi huang x reader #ror nikola tesla #ror poseidon #snv nikola tesla #ror nikola tesla smut #ror qin shi huang #snv qin shi huang #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror x you #record of ragnarok

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impossiblesuitcase · 1 month

Text

Hope In It

“The queen is dead! The queen is dead!”

Imperial Adviser Konn Torin’s hand paused mid-air from where it had been directing bodies to a bay of ships.

“The queen!” screeched the young woman, rushing into the crowd of diplomats. She was plainly dressed in a beige tunic—the rank of a servant, and Torin didn’t think he’d ever seen one of Luna’s maltreated servants acting of their own volition.

The clatter of Lunar aristocrats and frightened Earthen leaders filled the loading docks. Since the emperor had threatened to bomb the protective biodomes, the crush of people were practically clambering over one another to board the ships. They hadn’t heard any updates on the situation unfolding in the throne room since Kai had raced off to find Linh Cinder.

“What? What does she mean?” reverberated off the walls. People stopped on the ramps of the ships, watching on curiously.

“Queen Levana is dead! She was shot!” the servant choked out. Her cheeks were coated in tear tracks, her eyes manic. Torin wondered if this state of delirium had arisen from loyalty to the queen, or rather, disbelief that the tyrant could be truly dead.

“No!” cried an older man, whom Torin recognised as from one of the Lunar families. His age was only apparent from the startled slip into his natural, worn voice. Recomposing, he asserted, smooth and youthful, “This is just speculation!”

“Princess Selene shot her!” She circled aimlessly, recycling the news to every guest that would listen. “The queen was shot! She’s dead!”

A hundred murmurs repeated those words under their breath. The Lunars connected eyes in horror—and some—feigned sympathy.

The Earthens barely held back raucous cheers.

Torin’s ears tingled. He was not a man wont to extreme emotional fluctuations, but this news almost stopped his heart. Could it be true?

Realisation swiftly cloaked him. Kai went in search of Linh-dàren. If the Princess did shoot Levana, what other blood might have been shed?

Kai.

He abandoned his position as sentinel and reached a fellow Commonwealth representative. “Ensure that everyone remains here until you receive an all-clear,” he instructed. “We cannot yet substantiate this claim. I will go and locate His Majesty.”

“We will wait for your return,” the man replied, bowing.

Torin shook his head as his mind paced two, three, ten steps ahead. Leaving this dock now could very well risk his own life. “I may not be able to. Lend me your portscreen and I will comm Representative Li with updates.”

The man nodded and unclipped the device from his belt.

Taking it, Torin marched ahead, ignoring the whirlpool of sentiments trying to suck him back in. The cacophony was barely distinguishable, but laughter and crying and cheers spoke much of its meaning. Fury. Rejoicing. Anticipation.

———

The trek to the throne room was much shorter now than it had been an hour ago. The once packed hallways were now absent of officials, flashy nobles, servants, even guards. It was almost ludicrous to imagine that the coronation had been on that very same day when so much carnage and destruction had occured in such little time.

Fierce shouting grew louder as Torin neared the throne room. He began to run, turning the corner to a swarm of bodies blocking his path. Doctors and nurses wearing bloodied scrubs were huddled, shouting, “Pulse is weak! We need oxygen, stat!”

He came to hover nearby but could not identify the victim past the doctors’ tight shoulders. His own pulse faltered as it led him to the worst scenario. Where was Kai?

“He’s inside.”

He spun on his heels towards the magnificent mahogany doors. The voice was heavily accented—American—and weary.

Torin composed himself. “Thorne-jūn,”

Carswell Thorne had not struck Torin as a serious or even responsible man in the brief time they’d met. Yet the man in front of him now looked broken and old. He was covered in blood, his clothes ripped.

“He?” Torin ventured to ask.

“Kai. He’s inside the throne room.” Carswell’s heavy eyes scrutinised Torin—flitting from his white dress shirt down to his dark pants. Pulling an arm from behind his back he revealed a black suit coat draped over his elbow. “I think this is yours.”

Indeed it was. Torin had lent it to Kai’s young friend Crescent, hoping to calm some of her hysteria. But if the small, frightened girl was not wearing it, where was she?

“I had no intention of reclaiming it,” Torin said, taking the jacket into his hands all the same when proffered to him. It was damp and left redness in the creases of his palm. “Where is Darnel-mei?”

“She was hurt,” Carswell said, voice barely audible and tinged with…shame?

He chose to not enquire further as to what this implied. As Carswell’s hazy gaze attached to the retreating backs of the doctors, Torin wondered if the victim was Crescent. And if Carswell Thorne was somehow responsible for what had befallen her.

Partly relieved but not yet satisfied, he straightened. “Is the emperor all right?”

“Dunno. They wouldn’t let him follow her.”

His brow furrowed. Kai did seem to care for Cress, but not enough, he thought, that he would abandon his search for Linh-dàren.

The two exchanged a nod. Carswell staggered away in the same direction as the doctors. He may be in need of a doctor himself, or at the very least, a glass of scotch.

Once the young lad was out of sight, Torin cast the jacket to the ground and thrust open the heavy doors.

A figure lay sprawled on the marble floor. Getting closer, Torin’s blood congealed. It was Kai. Blood pooled around him and over the throne near where he lay, dark like the black strokes of a Japanese ink painting. The stone of the backrest was cracked in the centre.

“Your Majesty!” he cried, racing over and halting just before crashing into Kai. He slid to his knees, examining his body with burgeoning dread. “Where is it?!”

Completely dazed, shock written over his face, Kai murmured, “What?”

He seized his hands into his own. “Where were you injured?”

Appearing confused, he squinted blearily before following Torin’s gaze to his own torso. His white coronation outfit was bright red, his skin slick with blood.

“Oh,” Kai answered flatly. “Not me. I wasn’t…It’s Cinder’s.”

Torin pursed his lips. …Cinder’s?

Kai tried, weakly, to wipe it from his arms.

Blood. Cinder’s blood.

Torin shifted his hands to the boy’s forearms, pulling him to his feet. “Where is Linh-dàren now?”

“They just took her.” Kai’s empty gaze drifted to the doors. Ah. It was not Crescent that he’d seen being carted away.

He recovered his sensibility rather remarkably. “Shall we follow them, Your Majesty?”

Kai rubbed at his eyes. Torin hadn’t seen the boy this shellshocked since the death of his mother. “No…I don’t know if Cinder…they wouldn’t let me follow her.”

He scoffed, guiding Kai to the entrance. “You are the Emperor of the Eastern Commonwealth and the King Consort of Luna. You can go where you please.”

Kai dully shook his head. “Was King Consort.”

As they reached the doors, he retrieved the black dress coat from the ground and draped it over Kai’s stained shoulders. “If Princess Selene survives—as she will—you very well may become King Consort again someday. We will not let mere doctors stop us.”

Slowly, a light filled the boy’s vacant eyes, as if waking up from a nightmare. Without notice, he took off.

Torin fell into step, trying to match Kai’s steady pace. But Kai had transformed, emboldened by the promise of again seeing his princess. Flickers of a rowdy ten-year-old and then a slouching fifteen-year-old returned to Torin; along with his reminders to walk orderly, like a prince should.

But this determination was nothing childish. This was the gait of a man in love.

———

Blood had dribbled on the marble floors like proverbial breadcrumbs for their quest. Streaks dragged through it, suggesting fast footsteps. Neither Torin nor Kai knew where the medical wing was located, yet the second they saw that crimson evidence, Kai began running.

Slow down, Torin wanted to call for both their sakes, because the emperor would overexpend himself, and Torin was not a young man. But such a request would be cruel to him now.

They were not the only ones running. Servants fled the hallways while others huddled in trios with nervous murmurings. Just as Torin was about to reach into his pocket for his inhaler, Kai skidded to a halt. A crosspath emerged—to the left, a lavish hallway of purple carpets, ancient moon sculptures and a grand piano at its end. The right, stale white walls, dim lights and no such frivolities. In between these two was a large reflectionless window, slightly ajar. Cries of battle and howling slipped through from below.

“Your Majesty, should we perhaps—”

Kai chose right and sprinted. This time, Torin could not keep up.

As he bumbled after him, he passed Carswell Thorne, standing at a distance from a different mob of doctors. They surrounded a gurney, and when Torin saw a gleam of a shimmering orange skirt, he now knew where Darnel-mei was. Slumped against the wall nearby was a disorientated red-headed girl, cradled in the arms of one of those ghastly wolf soldiers. Torin choked on his tongue but then recognised the particular shade of green in the beast’s eyes. This was Kai’s ally, whom he had met when they concealed the Rampion in their ship on the journey to Luna. He reproached his own thoughts for the snap-judgement, especially when the man held the girl as though she were the finest bloom in a garden.

Turning the corner, Torin found Kai beside a flashing red operating room sign, motionless as a nurse explained the imperativeness that he do not impede their recovery efforts.

Resigned, he bowed his head. “Do your best, please,” came his weak voice. He watched—jealously, Torin thought—as the nurse whisked behind the large double doors.

The port at his waist pinged, an unfamiliar chime that reminded him it was borrowed. He punched in the override access code, opening to a comm from an Eastern Commonwealth officer.

“Kai,” Torin called, gently. “Her Maje–Her Highness, Princess Levana has been confirmed as dead.”

Staring at the closed hospital doors, Kai nodded. “I know. I saw her.”

And then, the memory of the throne returned to Torin. Certainly Cinder hadn’t been seated there. But it too was tainted with blood, and that pool contained much more than a single body could have produced. He drafted the cracks in the seat in his mind, the point of impact small and precise.

Princess Selene shot her.

Her body must have been taken away before Torin had arrived. But not before Kai had seen it.

The raging battle below their feet niggled at his thoughts. Hesitating, he recommended, “I suggest we declare temporary control, until Her Majesty The Queen’s status is known.”

Another slight nod. “Tell them…as King Consort, or…whatever. Just direct them to stop the fighting.”

He bowed and turned. He would first comm the Eastern Commonwealth officials to handle the loading docks, then contact their own fleet of security to instate control. Perhaps they could reason with the Lunar guards to help as well. The wolf soldiers would be impossible to restrain, but if they could at least remove the thaumaturges…

He compelled his muscles to contract, to walk forward, unsuccessfully. His feet were solid beneath him, his conscience arguing.

Torin heard a shaky exhale.

He could not leave Kai.

He spun back around and covered the distance. “Kai.”

Kai’s gaze arrived, weakly, in that of his mentor’s. It was the little warning he received before Kai buried his eyes in his wrists, sobbing.

“I can’t…” he choked. “I can’t…”

Torin planted stabilising hands on his elbows as they trembled with his shuddering breaths.

Anyone in New Beijing Palace could have attested to the fact that Konn Torin was not known for having a propensity for affection. But Kai, he realised bleakly, guiltily, had hardly hugged a body since the late emperor’s demise. That was unacceptable.

The distance discarded, his shoulder offered, Kai collapsed into him.

“It will be all right,” Torin promised into his hair. “She will be all right.”

Shouting chased them from the closed doors; elevated alarm from hard-wearing professionals that made Kai gasp. Torin covered the boy’s ears. He needn’t know what lay behind those doors. Because none of them knew. There were no protocol-issued, well-worn documents assuring that Selene would live. They could only rely on her demonstrated stubbornness and talent of living to spite all naysayers.

But Kai’s father had been determined. Kai’s mother had been stubborn. And they were both dead. Torin had lost two great friends but Kai had lost his parents. If he let this spread to his heart, he may never awaken from this grief-stricken stupor.

“Kai,” Torin breathed, “You must live.”

“...What?” Kai whispered, confused.

He pulled back, hardened eyes peeling away to reveal softness. “No matter what happens to her, you must live.”

Kai looked to the ceiling. “I know…my people…”

“No. You must live for her. And for yourself. Only then can you have the strength for your people.” He wiped the tears away with his sleeve. “She needs you right now.”

“I can’t do anything for her right now, Torin,” he argued miserably.

Despite it all, Torin smiled. “Do you really believe that?”

Kai’s sharp inhales syncopated with the beeps and clangs from within. Torin had always answered his questions. ‘Towin, why can’t I play with Daddy in his meetings?’ ‘Torin, why do I have to go to the gala?’ ‘Torin, why is Mama sick?’’

This question, only Kai could answer.

As those eyes had managed every time before, they reached a horizon point somewhere over Torin’s shoulder, and the determination crystallised. Torin masked a sigh of relief. For a moment, he truly believed this time might be so severe that there could be no return.

Another embrace, this one Kai initiated and pulled away from resolved. “Call off the fighting and order the thaumaturges back into the palace. I’ll collect the Eathern leaders from the docks and have them organise the crowds. We need to remove the wounded from the battlefield.”

“Shall I divert medical resources to those groups?”

“Yes,” he ordered, turning on his heel and his feet moved in step with his thoughts. “Repurpose as many rooms in the palaces as needed. Send”—he paused, briefly, slipped a look at the closed doors, and righted himself—“Send our own medical staff as well.”

Torin followed dutifully. “And…you’ll leave Linh-dàren?”

“This is what she needs me to do right now.”

In this moment, Torin was walking beside his dear friend Rikan. This boy, this emperor, galvanised for a new purpose. To prepare Luna for its queen. To carve out a space for Linh Cinder to fill. To aid her as a friend, an ally, a partner.

The closer they got to the docks, the louder the shouting became. Frantic servants and muddled aristocrats still cried the refrain: “The queen is dead!”

No. The queen would live, and Torin dared to hope in it.

Bonus

Sometimes, Cress felt like she was getting the hang of this being around people thing. Sarcasm was becoming more obvious. Body language more telling. But then there would be a little quirk of human interactions that would demonstrate just how unaccustomed to everything she was. Today, she learnt about sneaking up on people.

Cress was halfway through closing the door to her suite when a voice purred, “What perfect timing.”

She gasped and flung around to the apparition.

“Captain!” she exclaimed, clutching her stomach. The jolt was not kind on her still-tender stab wound.

Thorne grinned, all purple button-up and dimpled cheeks and bergamot cologne, materialised in the spot that was seconds-before empty. “Hey darlin’.”

Cress pried away her hand before he noticed it serving as an anchor and got that guilt-tinged frown. Any reminder of his (unwilling) role in her injury was a doleful experience for them both. Still, at least she could now walk without fearing her intestines would unravel.

“You scared me half to death.” She batted his shoulder.

A pleased look spread over his face. “Stealth is one of my greater qualities.”

She blinked at him. Repeatedly.

“Okay,” he relented, tone faltering. “Not necessarily.” He jutted a thumb at the door behind him. “But my room is just opposite.”

“So that gives you the right to near knock my soul out of my body?”

“I was simply coming out to say hello. I can’t believe that you’d accuse me of trying to catch a fright from you.” Thorne rested a hand on the door frame, pressing her back to the door as he craned his neck towards her. “I wouldn’t do that to my girl.”

His girl. Her heart began dancing an Irish jig for an entirely new reason. At least if she swooned from giddiness, he was in prime position to catch her. “Did you come to tell me something?” she murmured, unable to meet his eyes.

“Oh, you know,” he drawled. “I was checking out Cinder’s new place, all the bells and whistles. It’s not bad.”

“It isn’t bad,” she agreed. “It’s magnificent.”

“It’s no Rampion.” He retracted his hand from the doorframe to take hers. This time, she could look at him. “I stumbled into the gardens—nice, sure—but something was missing.”

“A waterslide?”

“Your hand in mine.” he corrected. He kissed that hand. “As long as you’re up to it, would do me the greatest honour and accompany me for a stroll?”

Her stomach throbbed. She shouldn’t walk for more than ten minutes at a time, and she’d already walked all the way to and from the dining hall for breakfast that morning. But her excitement rang louder than the ache.

“I know, it’s tough to think of an excuse not to go,” he said. “But I promise it’ll be fun. I even brought a token as a security deposit.” Reaching to his back pocket, Thorne procured a single rose, pink in its petals and tinged with brown at the base.

Cress pulled it into her fingers, awed. “It’s beautiful!” she cooed, burying her nose in the creation. “It’s a rose, right?”

He looked surprised, but only momentarily. “Indeed. You’ve probably never seen one before.”

“No.” She twirled it in her fingers, eyes fixed on the rich, fathomless colour. Oh, now she understood why roses were romance personified. She noticed that they were thornless, though she wouldn’t have minded if they weren’t. She happened to like Thornes a good deal. “Do they have more?” she asked, eyes gleaming.

“Hundreds, sweetheart.” He looked smug. His plan had succeeded beyond expectations. She was too happy to care.

“In that case, yes, of course.” She turned to the door, saying, “I'll just pull on a jacket,” when a knife twisted in her gut. She clutched her side, gasping as Thorne stole her shoulders into his hands.

“Cress! Are you okay?!”

She gritted her teeth, hissing and attempting to take air into her lungs until the pain finally subsided. “I’m fine,” she said wanly.

He frowned. “No, no you’re not. You should’ve told me the pain was acting up.” He wrapped his arms around her sides supportively, sighing. “You need to lie down.”

“No!” she protested. “No, I want to come.”

He cast her a grim stare then pecked her cheek. “Tomorrow, okay?”

She scowled. Her injury was a poor wingwoman to her romantic life. “Okay,” she conceded, only slightly mollified.

“Here. I’ll help you get into bed.” Thorne pulled a hand away from her waist to push open the door.

Prickling erupted on her skin. She suddenly remembered what lay inside. “Oh, no, I’m fine. It’s not that bad—I can just—”

“Nonsense.”

She barely cried a “wait!” before the door swung open and the evidence spilled out in a rich floral perfume.

Thorne walked them both inside, gaping at the garden on the centre table. A mammoth bouquet of lilies, peonies, gazanias and foliage reached almost up to the ceiling. He plucked the creamy white card from the base and read it aloud:

In hopes of a swift recovery. Best Wishes, Konn Torin.

Thorne hadn’t yet blinked. Cress just about felt his token wilt in her hand. “I still love your rose,” she assuaged.

Thorne lowered the card, staring dejectedly at his intimidated rose. “I need to up my boyfriend game.”

She laughed. Cress tucked the rose behind his ear, giggling at his quizzical look. She leaned up, thirty excruciating stitches be damned, and planted a firm kiss on his lips. She pulled away. “Let’s start with that date tomorrow.”

Notes

This one's for me and @hayleblackburn, maybe the only members of the Konn Torin fan club. We're a small but loyal pit crew 😔✊

@cindersassasin @hayleblackburn @spherical-empirical @salt-warrior @just2bubbly @gingerale2017 @kaider-is-my-otp @slmkaider @luna-maximoff-22 @kaixiety @snozkat @mirrorballsss @skinwitch18 @bakergirl13 @wassupnye @linh-cindy @therealkaidertrash21

#lunar chronicles #tlc #the lunar chronicles #konn torin #emperor kai #carswell thorne #linh cinder #levana blackburn #cress darnel #wolf kesley #scarlet benoit #emperor rikan #cresswell #kaider #the lunar chronicles fanfiction #lunar chronicles fanfiction #tlc fanfiction #cresswell fanfiction

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yuurei20 · 5 months

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Translation from Twst the 2nd novel: Cater, Grim, Riddle, Ace, Deuce, Grim and the prefect split up into pairs to ask about the accidents befalling Spelldrive players:

"‘Yuu will come with me.’

‘Eh? 'Yuu will come with me?’’ Yuuya echoes Riddle’s words back at him with a puzzled look. ‘The two of us will be doing the investigation together?’

‘Yes. I believe that this is the best arrangement.’

‘Eh, but, no, uh…I can’t use magic, so I think I will only be a burden for you.’

‘That is precisely why I am pairing you with myself. The best possible solution is us working together so that you will have my support, as the person with the strongest magic and the deepest understanding of the school.’

‘I was thinking that I might do all right with one of the others, though.’

Riddle points a finger at each member of the group, in turn, as he explains: ‘Cater is to pair with Grim. Cater can get along with anyone, and he will cover for Grim’s erratic behavior. Ace and Deuce are to investigate while seeing to their various tasks around the dorm. The first-years are busy with dormitory work this time of year, as the upperclassmen must prepare for the Spelldrive tournament.’

Riddle’s plan makes perfect sense. But there is no allowance to be made for Yuuya, who can already feel himself becoming overwhelmed.

Yuuya and Riddle have hardly ever held a conversation. And those rare times that they have interacted have not been on particularly friendly terms. And now they are to be alone together, and Yuuya cannot tell how he is even supposed to interact.

He is uncomfortable about approaching Riddle casually, like Ace and Deuce, and he cannot imagine Riddle initiating a friendly conversation, as if he is no different from Trey and Cater.

‘Do you object?’ Riddle asks with a curious look, in response to Yuuya’s stuttering. Despite Yuuya’s frankness, Riddle seems oblivious to the possibility that he may be disliked.

Yuuya is, honestly, somewhat afraid of Riddle. Possibly even more so than he had been back when Riddle was called the tyrant. Because, now, he has seen Riddle’s overblot form.

How can a human possibly harbor such forceful rage, such crippling sadness?

As someone who avoids all conflict in favor of going about his life as peacefully as possible, Yuuya has difficulty understanding this ruthlessness. Does Riddle feel nothing towards these people with whom he clashed barely a month prior? Is Yuuya the only one uncomfortable with the idea of being alone with him?

Yuuya glances to Ace and Deuce for help, but they both shrug. While nothing is said aloud, Yuuya manages to deduce what they mean through the movement of their lips: ‘Sorry, Yuu.’ ‘We can’t stop him.’

Flustered, Yuuya looks to Grim, who is quite happily focused on his tea and cookies. Blissfully oblivious to Yuuya’s situation, Grim is most content.

While looking a bit uncomfortable where he sits at Riddle’s side, Cater manages a smile. ‘Well, not much we can do. If you insist, Riddle-kun, then…’

Riddle gives a firm nod in response.

‘Our hands are tied,’ Cater says, with a wink and a wry smile for Yuuya. ‘It’s true that, for efficiency and to keep Yuu-chan safe, this might be the best option. Leave Gri-chan to me.’

‘Good. No objections?’

‘Can’t be helped. I’ll look out for Cater for ya.’

‘Got it! Understood!’ Ace’s reply is enthusiastic, and he spares a side glance to the flustered Yuuya. Ace has been grinning all the while, likely entertained by the combination of Yuuya and Riddle.

‘In that case, let us go our separate ways. Everyone get an appropriate amount of rest in order to be prepared for tomorrow.’

The three groups set their rendezvous locations, and the strategy meeting ends.

While they are, admittedly, making progress, Yuuya leaves Heartslabyul with a heavy heart.”

#twstnovel2 #twst translations #twisted wonderland #Kuroki Yuuya

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bidisastersanji · 5 months

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I'm impatient as fuck so here is part 2/3 of the "Zoro gets lost because he uses the red string of fate like a compass" :))) Part 1 here, Part 3 here, read it on AO3 here.

Sanji’s lungs burn, like a sharp blade incessantly scraping his chest from the inside. The unbearable, searing pain in his head, his legs, his ribs- his everything, really- are this close to making him pass out on the spot, but he’s used to dissociating from his battered body. He knows he’s bleeding out in various places, a familiar warm wetness seeping through his clothes, he knows his bones are bruised and broken. He keeps going.

He’s not a hundred percent sure that him running isn’t a hallucination.

But he has to find him. That absolute fucker of a swordsman.

His vision of the red thread he’s desperately running towards blurs a little bit- there must still be smoke in the air- but Sanji doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter. Not for a second. Single-minded, relentless, he throws his legs forward, one after the other, ignoring each sharp, fresh stab of pain as he does so. He won’t stop until he finds him.

The red string is there again. Is still there.

He’s still alive, he repeats to himself. But for how much longer...

His mom was the first to explain it to him. He could still remember her bright, cheerful smile when he told her about his soul mark, the way her elegant hands excitedly danced around when she explained what soulmates were, and what a wonderful thing it was that he had one. She’d seemed so happy for him, elated that someone out there was meant to be for her beloved son.

Starry-eyed and brimming with curiosity, he’d impatiently asked her every single question that popped into his mind- what were they like? Were they close by? How were they chosen? Why was it a red thread? Did he have to marry them? Were they pretty? Or kind? What if they were mean like his brothers? Would he get to meet them someday? Were mother and father soulmates too?

In her trademark fashion, Sora had patiently, lovingly answered all of them-all but one- but he didn’t notice, nor the way her smile faltered, just a little bit. Her hands were warm, cradling his own like he held all the treasure in the world between them. He, in turn, kept her words, her answers, her stories from that day, like a treasure as well. Sanji clung to this dream, of someone loving, caring for him unconditionally, despite his deficiency, his weakness. Just like the All Blue, it seemed almost too good to be true, but little Sanji didn’t let go, his belief an oasis to comfort himself with.

With every new tragedy fate brought him, his bright-eyed idealisation gradually made way for bitter disillusionment.

The unimaginable violence his blood relatives regularly inflicted on him served to remind him of his dreams’ unfeasibility. After all, how could anyone love a failure like him? How could he find such a legendary place when locked down in this cell? And yet, he clung to both dreams, the comfort of the paling red thread keeping him tethered, weakly fanning the dwindling flame of hope in his chest that he would one day be free from his torment, free to chase his dreams.

He tried not to worry about the thread fading. Guilt ate at him- maybe it reflected the strength of his belief, and that somehow felt like betraying his mother. She wouldn’t have lied to him, would she? She wouldn’t.

Sometimes, his brothers taunted him about it. Told him that having a soul mark was yet another proof of his weakness, and that they pitied whoever was stuck with their failure of a brother. Sanji cried and pleaded as the blows, physical and mental, bore down on him. The red string kept getting lighter and lighter, nearly translucent as they eroded his faith in it, until one day he no longer saw it at all.

Soul marks didn’t mean anything, really.

Because why would have fate wanted his sweet, kind mother to end up with a monster like Judge? How else could she have married this cruel tyrant who did not even mourn her death, or let their children mourn it?

No.

Soul marks’ meaning must be something ascribed by people, Sanji reasoned.

He escaped. Found people that were good to him, just like Reiju told him he would. With Zeff’s gruff but nurturing presence, Sanji slowly built himself back up. As he grew older, he let himself fall back into his romantic tendencies, daydreamed and idealised the concept of love, of intimacy. His body twirled and buzzed with the comfort that throwing himself at and serving beautiful women always brought him. For what better way was there to protect his brittle heart than to reach for something he already knew was unattainable? There was incredible safety in professing his love to a lady just passing by the restaurant for a night. No stakes at all to worry about.

On some sentimental days, he saw a flicker of red on his pinky.

Deep in his thoughts, prepping for the dinner rush, the rhythmic chops of his knife hitting the cutting board, he sometimes thought of the soulmate he used to fantasize about as a child. Wondered what he would do if that person found him, or if he stumbled into them. Would he even know? Feel anything? He wondered if his mother’s words had truth to them, offhandedly entertained the idea that love like the one in story books really existed out there. Zeff seemed to think so- had confided in him about his own soul mark on that godforsaken rock. Made it sound like, from what he’d seen on this wide, wide sea, soul marks were nothing to laugh at- just as much as how dreaming of the All Blue was nothing to laugh at.

It was in those moments that his heart imperceptibly opened, albeit temporarily, to the possibility of love, and he saw red flash in the corner of his eye. He didn’t linger on it. He didn’t even linger on it when it appeared with increasing frequency after leaving the Baratie.

Joining the straw hats breathed a second wind into Sanji. His smiles, his laughs became fuller, almost childlike at times, reminiscent of simpler times, as the unconditional love- given so freely by the captain and his crew- soothed his deep scars like a balm. Sanji learned that people could love him, rely on him, care for him. Perhaps his mother’s ideas on love hadn’t been so far off, even if he’d found it in another form.

There was something off about the shitty swordsman, though. Granted, they hadn’t been purely adversarial from day one. Zoro hadn’t seemed in search of a fight -with him at least- when they first crossed paths on the Baratie. Sanji could only remember weird looks, narrowed eyes searching his face, almost accusingly, even though they’d only just met. It quickly got on his nerves.

The guy naturally aggravated him, made him feel a tad uneasy, nervous. Which is probably why their fights always felt so satisfying, a blissful outlet to the inevitable tension that rose between them every day. Sanji’s skin sang with each clash and blow, and he tightened his jaw to keep himself from grinning with every petty insult thrown between them. (Zeff may have imparted his love language- words of disapprobation- to him.)

Nobody saw fit to comment on the odd rivalry between them, nor did they question his uncanny knack for finding the directionally challenged mosshead when he got lost. Sanji least of all of them- it just...happened. He must just have a talent for foraging algae and moss.

His stomach drops like a stone when he spots him.

Arms crossed, still as a statue, an ungodly amount of blood paints the rubble around him and drips from his body.

Sanji can’t think. Doesn’t even consciously register that, just as he suspected, the red thread on his hand is tied to Zoro’s own as he sprints to close the distance between them. He’s pure instinct, heart hammering in his chest as he furiously questions the injured swordsman. What happened here? Where did the warlord go? Sanji feels like his heart is trying to crawl out of his throat, thick, choking him, each lungful a strenuous effort he has to consciously make.

“Nothing...happened.”

Zoro seems a breath away from death and passes out in his arms. Sanji has no choice but to carry him the best he can to camp, hoisting him on his back, limping and near delirious with pain himself. He can’t let this shitty idiot die. He wants to kill him himself.

Thankfully, he gets to Chopper in time, only passing out when he sees the doctor in his heavy point carrying him away to treat him. His last thoughts as the darkness claims him are of the red string now stretching before him in the direction Chopper went.

Fuck.

#zoro x sanji #zosan #zosan fic #zosan fanfiction #zosan soulmate au #one piece zosan #one piece fanfiction #zoro gets lost #thriller bark angst #the vinsmokes fucking suck as always #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro

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invinciblerodent · 8 months

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Even though I'm not yet far into Act 3 (so I don't know how it all ends or what the "right" decision was), can I just say.....

I loved, loved, LOVED how Lae'zel stood up to Vlaakith.

I LOVE how she, though a tiny gnat in Vlaakith's eyes, calls out a tyrant and manipulator for who she is, and does not waver. Not in the face of bargaining, manipulation, or a raging tantrum- none of Vlaakith's abuse tactics sway her. I love how she stands her ground and flatly REJECTS the greatest, deepest desire she once held because she no longer believes in it; because it would no longer be RIGHT.

But most importantly, I LOVE how she makes sure during that process to invite you into her mind, let you know her desires, and silently request your input.

This could be (and likely is) approval-dependent (I'm sitting pretty on "exceptional" approval), but despite her firm words, in that scene it's SO CLEAR that she's terrified, insecure. She's afraid to cut herself off from the life she used to live, unsure of who she's going to be after, and even though she HAS made her decision, she still does not move forward until she either knows that you are there beside her, or until you try to convince her otherwise.

It shows such tremendous growth in her relationship with the player character compared to the beginning, or even compared to earlier in her personal quest, that she not only TRUSTS you with this tender emotion in such a huge turning point in her life, but requests your opinion, and is willing to listen or even to change her mind if you present a sound argument. She shares with you, unprompted, that she is scared, and wordlessly communicates in the process that she trusts your judgement with her very life.

And I'm just!!!!!! Yes babygirl, you're no longer a drone! You won't be manipulated anymore!!!! Vlaakith can't unmake she who no longer exists!!!!!!!! You do you!!!!!! Let's save Orpheus (but hopefully after we get this bloody thing out of our heads)!!!!!!! My beautiful, brave baby!!!!!!!!!!!!

I cannot for the LIFE of me understand how someone can dismiss her whole character as just "mean". She's anything BUT. I love her so much. ❤️

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 lae'zel #lae'zel #squirrel plays bg3 #burying my head in my hands again #these characters man #they just...... you know?!?!?!?????!!!

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rie-092 · 1 year

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ATTENTION

「 platonic yandere! dorothea milanaire 」

there is only one thing that dorothea wants before. it was to experience the attention and love from his beloved father, the current emperor that time. but despite of doing everything for that, her father didn't paid any attention to her. instead, he only focused his attention to her older brother, raymond.

it hurt her. she was really jealous of raymond. the only thing that was inside her mind that time was 'if i surpass raymond, will father pay attention to me?' that was also the reason why she compete with her older brother everytime she was given a chance. she wants to show to everyone that she was good, she can do everything raymond can do. she was better than him!

but, you see. dorothea's obsession with parental love disappeared in an instant by the time she met their older sister when she was nine. princess (first name), the eldest princess and the one who was supposed to be the heir instead of raymond. the beautiful and sweet (first name) whom dorothea see as the angel that the heavens gave to her as a gift.

as a platonic yandere, dorothea wants you to pay attention to her. not to raymond, not to your father, not to your fiancé. you only need to pay attention to her. whenever she visits you, the two of you should have a tea together. if she failed a test, you should be there to comfort her. and once you act as a perfect older sister for her, dorothea won't ask for anything. she doesn't care about what the nobles and your father says about her anymore. she only wants you to see her as a perfect little sister and dorothea will do anything for that.

if she see you talking or playing with raymond, ah. this girl will grit her teeth in anger and jealousy. you were her older sister, not raymond's. raymond already has her father's attention, the position as the crown prince, the ability to control light spirit. he already had everything and he dared to steal you away from her too? how dare him.

maybe witnessing those times where you laugh with raymond, play with raymond and have a tea with raymond was one of the things that trigger dorothea to become a tyrant. this girl treasures her older sister so much to the point that she was willing to kill raymond just to make sure that you will pay attention to her and only her.

no. she won't do it right now. she doesn't want you to get angry at her if she kill raymond. but do you remember that time when you complimented raymond in front of dorothea? yes. that event was the one who triggered dorothea to kill raymond in front of you and become the emperor herself.

and when dorothea became the emperor, this girl won't allow anyone except her to approach you. this girl thinks that she was the only one who has the rights to talk to you since she was your sister. do you remember those servants who tried to help you to escape from her? they died on ethan, her closest aide's hand. how about your dear fiancé and her family? she killed them all! but you don't have to worry. since before killing them, dorothea made sure to torture them first for spending so much time with you.

seeing you like a broken doll is something that dorothea loves to see. unlike those times after he killed raymond, you were now allowing her to style your hair, and wear a matching dress with her! you even accepts all the gifts that she was giving to you! does it mean that you finally saw the fact that she was the only person that you need?

that's what she thought at first. but one day, on her way to your castle. dorothea's whole word stopped at what she saw inside your room. you were leaning on the side of your bed, blood running down from your mouth. you were lifelessly looking at the blood on your hand with a rare smile on your lips.

“SISTER!”

dorothea immediately called a servant and ordered them to bring the doctor immediately. then after that, she immediately rushed to your side, crying and asking you what happened. but when you suddenly said to her that you were the one who did that to yourself, she frozed.

you looked at her with blank eyes, void of any emotions. it was completely different from those warms eyes that you had when you look at her before. but despite of noticing that, dorothea still begged you to hold on and don't leave her. but you suddenly laughed bitterly, saying that you were glad that you are finally able to escape from the chain that dorothea put on your neck.

after seeing you slowly closing your eyes. the only thing that dorothea could do was to cry. why? why? why!? even now, why did you chose death that staying by her side?! she gave you everything! money, luxuries and even the whole empire! so why?! was it because she's not raymond?

a few moments after you died, the doctor along with the servant arrived to your room. and what they saw inside your room frightened them so much. blood, that was the first thing that they saw as well as the dismembered body of your servants was seen on your room. while your dead body was carefully placed on your bed with the bloody dorothea sitting next to you. smiling while she brushed your hair.

the doctor as well as the servant couldn't help but to throw up after seeing the scene in front of them. and after hearing that sound that they made, dorothea's bloodshot eyes looked at them with a twisted smile on their face. dorothea got up from her seat as she held up her sword as she slowly made her way to them.

let's just say that after your death. everyone on your palace including your dear knights died on dorothea's hand. and even on her last moments, dorothea couldn't forget the sight of your lifeless body on her arm. and waking up as a baby and seeing your younger self smiling brightly at her doesn't help at all.

“ SISTER, I'M NOT GOING TO LET YOU ESCAPE FROM ME AGAIN THIS TIME. ”

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justcressida · 7 months

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Medusa Penelope slaps hard! Please continue👀

Okay, so let's move on from mythology. Under pressure from the Eckhart Family and Yvonne's return, the Reader took up residence in Athena's temple as a priestess.

Initially, Poseidon describes all the people around as 'bugs', but no matter what, he is an excellent watchmaker.

Of course, Athena and Poseidon often clash, and this means that Poseidon is almost always there to see the lovely priestess.

Damn, he has a wife and even a child, but this woman is even more divine than a Goddess.

Of course, Athena is an intelligent woman, but Poseidon's arrogance never made her admit that she was attracted to a human.

So what was expected eventually happened. The care of a God is no different from the apocalypse for woman.

You had time until Athena understood. Poseidon was a very strange man. He knew she couldn't stand up to him, and his words were as sharp as a knife, but sometimes his attention was breathtaking.

Each time, he would emphasize that you were a mortal, but he would spend the night between your legs. He was arrogant, arrogant, daring, but when you fought back... He liked it so much that he could hardly contain himself from grinning

He thought many times about kidnapping you, having you in his own land, but there were some things he couldn't get rid of. How many nights did Amphitrite spend alone in a cold bed? How many times have their children been rejected by their father? He does not remember because he was busy entering the temple, hiding his presence from Athena.

You looked so much alike. Your details were also hidden in each other, but in the end, this twisted love was found out.

No one could blame the tyrant of the seas. You were the one who was punished. Your beautiful curls, your gaze at the snakes turned into death.

Who can blame you? Even the curse that was given did nothing but honor his existence with more beauty. He's still very much in love. He's still very possessive. And you know what? He doesn't even need to hide it anymore

Poor Amphitrite, her husband is now in her bed with a cursed woman.

#record of ragnarok x reader #ror x reader #snv x reader #ror poseidon #ror poseidon x reader #snv poseidon #snv poseidon x reader

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petrasdisapproves · 4 days

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𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐘𝐄𝐒, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧.

I'm going to write the obvious things now, but I need to remind myself (and those who need it): It's 𝙊𝙆𝘼𝙔 to look at the same character from different angles. Analyze and interpret his actions and words in different ways. Have your own vision of a romantic relationship with this character.

What I'm trying to say is, it's 𝙊𝙆𝘼𝙔 if you see Astarion as a lost and vulnerable character or just a damn charming manipulator. If he actually has a complex personality or just an arrogant and sassy vampire for you. If you like the more vulnerable or strong sides of him. If you see him as a victim or as a villain. As a bad guy who has a chance on redemption, who can become a better version of himself, even a hero perhaps, - or as a magnificent bastard who doesn't need and doesn't wish to change anything about himself. Or you can see 𝘢𝘭𝘭 that in him at once! (and still love him for it.) :D

This also applies to the relationship with Astarion. If you see a character as bisexual/pansexual, or perhaps in your opinion he is more into women/man/other, that's fine. Ascended or spawn can love your tav or durge, regardless of their race and gender, because the game still allows to romance him. In your headcanons, Astarion can also have a unique interaction with your character. For example, they can be cheeky and insolent, have more 'hot' type of dynamic, or on the contrary - they can be more tender and soft with each other, because Astarion can behave unusual with his partner when he opens his heart. Astarion can have wild passionate sex with your tav/durge 24/7 if you wish, so they won't get out of their tent/cozy chambers any time soon. Or maybe in your story he still needs time to adjust and has yet to learn how to make physical contact without unpleasant feelings and memories of the past hunting him. Perhaps in your headcanon Astarion doesn't need sex at all (for a while or permanently). Or maybe he's not against polyamory and intimate experiments. Your Astarion can be the top. Or he can be the bottom. ( just like he can be big or a small spoon in your relationships :) ).

AND YES. If you prefer Astarion's ending as Ascended vampire or as a spawn... 𝙄𝙏'𝙎 𝙎𝙏𝙄𝙇𝙇 𝙊𝙆𝘼𝙔! If you want a luxurious life with your Ascended Vampire Daddy (sorry couldn't help it ;D), you can have it. If you see AscendedA as a man who hides his vulnerability and insecure behind a display of power and dominant behaviour, who still in love with your tav/durge and perhaps scared they might leave him one day or that they fond of him only for his charms and power, then this is 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣. But if you see AscendedA as a manipulator and a liar, a cruel tyrant who has become the worst version of himself, who does not know love and would just use/abuse you, this is also 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣.

Same for the spawnA ending. You can see different type of progress in this path, how Astarion breaks a vicious cycle of violence and abuse, his personal growth and how he is overcoming his fears and weaknesses by trusting you in the moment of choice during the ritual. You can see this as a way of story where Astarion had sacrificed the sun and power, but where you saved him from himself and opened another door - the one where he will learn another meaning of freedom. Where he will discover other possibilities in his future, where his personality/behaviour remained unchanged or even improved in the way he couldn't even think of. And he will certainly find other values in his life, as well as he will learn more of himself, like 'what he is' now, when Cazador gone. He can enjoy adventures and dangers just as AscendedA enjoys ruling from the Crimson palace. SpawnA can love your durge/tav because he 𝘊𝘏𝘖𝘖𝘚𝘌𝘚 to, because you are equal and have a deep bond built on trust. Not because he clings to you as you were his lifeline or a safe blanket. Or on the contrary, you can see like spawn completely dependent on you, sacrificing everything just for you. Perhaps without your tav/durge, he will never feel happy and free again, perhaps his world is currently limited to you. Perhaps in your opinion, this ending actually is not best for him and his future seems rather pathetic and poor.

So my point is. These are 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨 and 𝙮𝙤𝙪 have the right to fantasize as much as you like, 𝙖𝙨 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙞𝙣 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚. Just remember: 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮. Baldur's Gate is a roleplay game, damn it. No one has the right to judge how you play it, either your choices or opinions in the different matters. Or your headcanons. We all looking for comfort in something specific for ourselves, we all need different things to escape from reality, and that's why we here. We have our own experiences and traumas, own worldviews and own understanding of what's right and wrong. During the interaction with other people, we can feel them on different levels, as well as perceive and analyze same characters from certain angles. And simply as that, 𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙙𝙞𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩. And it's fine.

For me, Astarion is a complex character who you can discuss and talk about endlessly, because - honestly? - there is NOT ENOUGH content in the game to make an unambiguous verdict on all issues related to his personality and story. A lot of ideas and scenario stuff for Astarion has been cut from the game even before the release, a lot has been changed in process and a lot of content leaved unfinished. But we have what we have, and I'm still happy with that, because I still get to enjoy character, and it also thanks to modders and people who makes headcanons, screenshots and all kind of friendly content with that charming brat.

I sincerely believe that everyone has the right to interpret Astarion in their own way, as well as to have their own imaginary future with a fictional vampire, damn it. Every tav/durge can have their own happiness with him, whatever it may be, no matter how they see it. Everyone chooses and goes their own path with Astarion. And it is precisely these different headcanons that makes your couple and this vampire unique. <3 𝙋𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙖𝙡𝙡. *drops the microphone*

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #ascended astarion #spawn astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate

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wonder-mei · 3 months

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Fate has spoken (MK1 Bi-han)

Author's note; reminder this is not lore accurate to the Mortal Kombat universe. I write because they're hot. I also do no have beta reader or i read my fan fic from top to bottom to see any errors. I'm lazy okay.

“Is it true?”

A familiar soft voice appears behind him right after he enters his room upon arriving at the Lin Kuei Clan. Bih-han didn’t move an inch,just standing there not knowing what to respond to her. The light of his life.

“You already heard from the others. There’s nothing for me to tell you”

“I want you to tell me. Say it infront of my face,Bi-han”, her tone is frustrated but with a hint of sadness that she tried to bury.

The Lin Kuei grandmaster clenched his fists. His heart is beating. His heart always beats for her. The stern Bi-han who everyone fears and respects him has always been afraid of her. Her kindness and gentle nature scares him, the thing he fears is losing her.

Bi-han turns around. Her eyes are already on her on edge to cry from betrayal. The eyes that always sees him as human and shows him that kindness still exist in his miserable life, “I took Shang Tsung’s offer for more power…. against the Lin Kuei oaths”

A single tear dropped from her eyes. Bi-han stares at her fighting the urge to touch her “And i let father die”

“How could you,Bi-han. He’s like a father to me!”, all the memories of her with the former grandmaster plays in her mind. He welcomed her and her mother with open arms when he found them living by the street after the death of her own father. She and her mother were given a home to live comfortably by his generosity. “He believed you’ll be a great grandmaster for Lin Kuei!” she hits him in the chest “He believed you can take care of us,Bi-han…”

Bi-han just stood there letting her get her anger out on him “You have betrayed Lin Kuei,your family…. You have betrayed me,Bi-han. It hurts. It hurts so much…” she cries and cries showing her pain to him.

“If you won’t follow my orders as the grandmaster. You can leave”

Her heart skips a beat at his words, she tilts her head up looking into his eyes. His eyes tell he is also in pain, “I do not need you anymore here. Leave the Lin Kuei. I am not like my father. I am a tyrant like they called me”

“Does everything we had mean nothing to you?”

Bi-han stares at her shocked,the question is unexpected. Her voice and eyes are demanding him to tell the truth, “Were every night we had walking together in the forest means nothing to you? Tell me”

“No… all of those we had together does not mean nothing to me”

She takes a step away from him. Taking a deep breath without her eyes leaving him “Say that you love me”

Bi-han heart got more heavy. Somehow he forgot to breathe.

“Say that you love me and then I will leave… letting you go on what you desire in life”

Words stuck in his throat. He just stares at her as she stares at him too. She wants to know if their feelings are equal before they went apart forever, “Tell me,Bi-han”

“I…. i love you very dearly”

She can feel the weight she’s carrying on her shoulders lift up upon hearing his confession. Her heart melts even in this betrayal situation “And i too,love you Bi-han”

Bi-han witnesses her last smile he will ever see. He won’t see the kind smile ever again. She won’t even be by his side for now on. He doesn’t show emotions, he doesn’t want her to see him in weakness. But before he was not afraid to cry, this time was different. Those before she is with him to get through the tough time. Now, she won’t be there to comfort him.

“Goodbye,Bi-han. May you live your ambitions and… live with happiness.Farewell”

With that she left. Forever. Bi-han didn’t call her name or hold her hand to prevent her from leaving. He did nothing. Just standing there.

He stood there for hours. His mind is blank. With a heavy heart he left his room approaching her room. Her room is empty, her mother also cannot be seen. She brought her mother with her too. Bi-han closes the door, he sits in the middle of the room. Her scent is still in the room. He sits there to feel everything that is left in the room until her scent and present are gone forever.

“In every timeline, she still won’t be yours,Bi-han. I am sorry”

Liu Kang had told him that;even in multiple timelines existed, they are not fated to be together.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #bi han x reader #bi han x you #sub zero x reader #bi han mk #sub zero

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moments-on-film · 9 months

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Moments on Film: Carmy and “Just Keep Going”

“Just keep going” is a recurring mantra in The Bear. The first time we hear it, it’s Marcus telling Sydney as he helps her clean up the spilled veal stock in S1. Cousin Michelle says it to Carmy during their poignant scene at the Christmas dinner. Carmy says it to himself by replaying Michelle’s words in his head as he awaits the results of the fire suppression test. The last time we hear it, Carmy says it to Sydney to help her focus and calm down as she’s recovering from Marcus’s outburst in the S2 finale.

I think “just keep going” has been Carmen’s personal mantra his entire life. It has had to be. And while it may have served him well in years prior, I believe it has now, finally all caught up with him.

Because of Carmy’s traumatic and abusive upbringing, he has trained himself to never properly reflect on what just happened. How could he possibly? From what we have been shown so far, his mother is extremely abusive, controlling, manipulative, and threatening. In their brief scenes together, she called him by his brother’s name, threatened him to the point that I believe she physically abuses him, and in fact slapped his face while he was very sweetly comforting her and trying to calm her down. The look on his face after being slapped is gut wrenching, mainly because, as always, there’s so much in his expression—a world of hurt and emotions, and you know he will never tell anyone about what she just did. All he can do is repress his feelings, suppress the urge to react in any way, and literally just keep going. He has to. It’s how he has survived. And it’s killing him.

Gif source: @sarcasmcloud

We still don’t know what Carmy’s relationship with his dad was like. He says he “didn’t really know him well enough to miss him.” Is this true? Or did Carmy also have to survive physical and emotional abuse, in addition to neglect from him, starting at a very young age? Either way, he’s had to keep moving forward and not look back, likely afraid of what will happen if he stops and actually does. This is another reason why he’s always scanning people’s faces, body language and tone to see if they’re mad at him, and waiting for the other shoe to drop. He has been surrounded by erratic, unpredictable behavior. He has had to think ahead, plan his next move, anticipate people’s behavior, reactions and responses so he can be prepared. He has had to live a life of propulsion, never looking back. Staying still, reflecting on the abuse he has had to survive as well as the recent trauma of his brother’s suicide could potentially cause a complete and total nervous breakdown, so he pushes on.

In the flashback scene in New York, we get another, heartbreaking example of how “just keep going” is killing Carmy. His boss is an emotionally abusive tyrant, but for Carmy to call it out, first he would have to acknowledge it. To do that, he might also have to think about and acknowledge the abuse he’s suffered, likely from his dad, certainly his mom, possibly his “uncle” Lee, even his brother. He is not ready to reckon with any of the abusive behavior in those relationships, so he keeps his head down, and does anything he can to get through the day, even if that means vomiting his unspoken feelings out of his sick and exhausted body before every single shift.

Even before New York, which—ironically and devastatingly, was supposed to be a time where he could “decompress” and escape the trauma at home, he was doing anything and everything to stay ahead of slowing down and facing what he’s been through. For years he’s been putting one foot in front of the other, scared to look down, lest he fall off the tightrope.

Presumably since after high school, he’s been traveling around, and in constant motion. Numerous restaurants in California, Copenhagen, then New York. Carmy has so much unprocessed trauma from multiple sources that has never really dealt with, he’s literally been on the run. He has been distracting himself and filling the void by throwing himself into work, and in the words of cousin Michelle at Christmas dinner, he has, in fact, been, “running around like crazy.” He might change his location, but his unprocessed trauma follows him everywhere he goes, causing him paranoia, anger, shame, guilt, self loathing, dread and fear. It’s also made him sick.

The only way to escape is to never be idle for a second, which is why he’s in constant motion. Carmy as a character is rarely completely still. His hands are constantly moving, in S1 in particular he is perpetually running his hands through his hair, feeling his forehead, smoking, and fiddling with his spoon. He hands tremor and tremble when there’s nothing to occupy them. None of this is an issue when he’s scrubbing floors or furiously chopping vegetables. He can be so unsettled and it all stems from the need to stay in motion to distract himself.

Life in a kitchen can easily swallow someone’s entire life. There’s always so much to do—from the prep to the cooking, the tasting, managing staff, actual service, cleaning, ordering supplies, and doing it all over again to keep the place running. Orders come in that have to be filled. It’s relentless, and at the highest level, requires complete and utter focus to be completed successfully. Natalie correctly points out the toll the restaurant takes on Carmy in her first scene with him. “It’s eating you alive”, she tells him. And it is. In S1, Carmy talks about how much time they would spend cleaning at The French Laundry. It’s hard to let your mind wander when you’re in motion and just keep going, so that’s exactly what Carmen does.

The rare moments where Carmy does pause and rest, he has life threatening night terrors, crippling nightmares, and horrible anxiety. In a prior post I analyzed Carmy’s visibly elevated vital signs in S1 and S2. He is so repressed and stressed out it impacts his entire body. With no outlet, his unresolved trauma, undiagnosed PTSD and extreme anxiety manifests inwardly and makes him ill. His dangerously heightened pulse and heartbeat are often visible onscreen. He has trouble breathing. He’s constantly chewing tums or chugging Pepto Bismol to calm his stomach. One of the few items in his apartment visible to Sydney as she enters is a giant bottle of ibuprofen. As I mentioned before, he often looks sick. There’s so much tension coursing through his body sometimes he actually looks like he’s burning up with fever. He’s not taking care of himself. He’s not eating well, and he barely sleeps. His coat is too thin for the freezing Chicago weather, and that’s when he actually wears it to go outside. He blinks his eyes hard in stressful moments, which is a trauma response. The way his body reacts during his panic attacks is frightening. There have been several moments where he looked like he was going to collapse and have a heart attack.

He has been running around, over working himself, repressing his emotions and feelings, neglecting his own needs, health and happiness and in constant motion for probably the past decade. As I detailed in a prior post, Carmy is lost at the present because he’s never allowed himself to slow down and find out who he really is and what actually makes him happy. He’s been in complete and total survival mode.

There is no way he can keep up at the level he has been operating and not completely collapse at some point. I think that’s a huge reason, subconsciously, that he slipped into the relationship with Claire. Among other reasons, he is exhausted and it was a way out and seemingly a soft place to land. She is also probably the first person to physically touch him, maybe in years. Of course he wanted to lean into the potential comfort and care that he thought she might be able to provide. He needs touch and tenderness so desperately that he invited her to the restaurant, his sacred space, mere seconds after she stroked his face, a turning point in their “relationship.”

Claire initially allowed him just enough relief that he wasn’t about to explode. However, in the end, it proved to be such a distraction that it pulled him even further from reality, his duties, and people who he actually should have been spending time with, namely, Sydney. The lack of healthy balance caused him increased anxiety and much more harm than good. His panic attacks actually increased and got worse during his time with Claire. She also only served to unhealthily unearth the past he’s been running away from by bringing painful memories he’s tried to suppress screaming to the surface.

I am very worried about where a potential next season(s) will take Carmy, emotionally and physically. He is headed for a serious crash and burn if he thinks he can just ignore his numerous health problems and keep running from his past. He is only human. They will all catch up with him and I believe they already have.

I’m also worried because we know the writers like to do call backs and tie threads together. Plot points, relationships and lines are never wasted. I’ve said in my posts prior to S2 how badly I think Carmen needs to see a Doctor. The fact that Claire is one, but it never factored into S2 is so odd to me. This is what makes me think we perhaps have not seen the last of Claire.

Carmy physically exhibits crippling distress, and noticeably elevated vital signs, in the form of shallow breathing, rapid pulse, pounding heartbeat and a face that often looks flushed with fever. He actually had a “gnarly” panic attack while he was with Claire. He needs medical attention, but we were never shown her acknowledge this or make a recommendation about the help he needs, or give him tips to calm down, apart from essentially “just ignore your problems and they’ll go away.” This is all so strange to me because Carmy is not well, Claire’s an ER Doctor in residency, and she experienced him during a horrible panic attack. What is the first thing they do at the Emergency Room? Check your vital signs. Can’t she see he’s sick? Wouldn’t she want to help him, personally, not to mention professionally, to get treatment and ease his suffering? It doesn’t make any sense to me.

He has, however, found a new way to self soothe in his most painful moments to calm down his nervous system—with visions of the one thing that helps him stabilize and breathe, visions of Sydney.

I really hope that the next time Carmy and Claire see each other isn’t because he’s being brought to the Emergency Room where she’s a Doctor because of something terrible, like an illness, accident, or major health emergency. That said, I think he is on the brink of a crisis. A major health issue might be the only way for him to stop and actually slow down enough to rethink his life and how he’s been spending it these past years.

Season 2 ends with Carmy believing he needs to double down on his mantra and “just keep going”like he always has, push himself to the max, and sacrifice his entire existence to run the restaurant, but that is not sustainable. It is not service, it is servitude. I believe he is exhausted, burnt out and headed for disaster from living this way for the past decade. He’s a master at masking that he’s barely hanging on by a thread. This is a huge reason why Sydney is his lifeline. Unlike Claire, who’s supposedly “known” Carmy for years, within days Sydney accurately diagnosed Carmy’s problem (S1E2) “you need help”, she told him. She saw through what he was trying to hide, to what he needs most. She caught him before he fell and she’s been holding him this whole time. I honestly believe that by walking in the doors of The Beef, Sydney saved Carmen’s life, but neither one of them truly realizes it yet.

I really hope for the sake of Carmy’s physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual health he will see that slowing down, coming to terms with the abuse and trauma he’s survived, taking care of himself, resting, and getting professional help is a life and death situation for him.

Carmen needs to realize that he hasn’t and isn’t living a full life with the mantra “just keep going.” It has worked so far as a survival tactic but he deserves and needs to live a life where he can be healthy, fulfilled and happy. A life where he’s not just going but growing. I hope he realizes this before it’s too late. For the sake of his health the stakes are extremely high and he has no time to lose. Every second counts, indeed.

#the bear #the bear fx #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #sydney adamu #syd adamu #carmy x sydney #syd x carmy #my thoughts #moments on film

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