#Precision Gas Control

[prabhaelectronics]

Actuator Valves in Modern Gas Control Systems

Actuator valves are crucial components in various industrial and commercial applications, offering precision, safety, and efficiency in gas control systems. Whether in heating, ventilation, or automated gas distribution, actuator valves provide the necessary automation that enhances operational efficiency and safety. In this blog, we delve into the key features, benefits, and applications of actuator valves and why choosing a high-quality valve like the one from Prabha Electronics can make a significant difference.

What is an Actuator Valve?

An actuator valve is an automated control device that regulates the flow of gases or fluids through a system. It combines a valve with an actuator that uses electric, hydraulic, or pneumatic power to move the valve to the desired position. This automation eliminates manual intervention, ensuring consistent and precise control, which is especially important in complex or hazardous environments.

Key Features of Actuator Valves

Precision Control: Actuator valves provide accurate flow control, crucial in applications requiring fine-tuning of gas pressure or volume.

Durability and Reliability: Built with robust materials, these valves are designed to withstand harsh environments, including high temperatures, corrosive substances, and continuous operation.

Safety: Automation reduces the risk of human error, enhancing overall safety by ensuring valves operate within set parameters.

Ease of Integration: These valves are compatible with various control systems, making them easy to integrate into existing setups without extensive modifications.

Energy Efficiency: Actuator valves help reduce energy consumption by optimizing gas flow, making systems more sustainable and cost-effective.

Applications of Actuator Valves

Actuator valves find applications in various industries, including:

Oil and Gas: Ensuring precise flow control in pipelines and gas distribution networks.

HVAC Systems: Regulating airflow in heating, ventilation, and air conditioning systems to maintain optimal indoor conditions.

Manufacturing: Used in automated production lines to control the flow of gases essential for various processes.

Water Treatment: Controlling the flow of chemicals and gases in water and wastewater treatment plants.

Why Choose Prabha Electronics’ Actuator Valve?

Prabha Electronics offers a high-performance actuator valve designed to meet the demands of modern industrial applications. Our valves are engineered for durability, reliability, and precise control, ensuring your systems operate at their best. Here’s why our actuator valves stand out:

Superior Build Quality: Made with high-grade materials to resist corrosion and wear, ensuring a long service life.

Advanced Engineering: Our valves are designed to deliver smooth operation, even under challenging conditions.

Cost-Effective Solutions: We provide value without compromising on quality, making our actuator valves a wise investment for any gas control system.

Conclusion

Choosing the right actuator valve is essential for maintaining efficiency, safety, and performance in any gas control system. Prabha Electronics’ actuator valves offer the precision and reliability needed for industrial and commercial applications, ensuring your operations run smoothly and safely. Invest in quality, and experience the difference that our advanced actuator valves can make in your system.

[nasa]

25 Years of Exploring the Universe with NASA's Chandra Xray Observatory

Illustration of the Chandra telescope in orbit around Earth. Credit: NASA/CXC & J. Vaughan

On July 23, 1999, the space shuttle Columbia launched into orbit carrying NASA’s Chandra X-ray Observatory. August 26 marked 25 years since Chandra released its first images.

These were the first of more than 25,000 observations Chandra has taken. This year, as NASA celebrates the 25th anniversary of this telescope and the incredible data it has provided, we’re taking a peek at some of its most memorable moments.

About the Spacecraft

The Chandra telescope system uses four specialized mirrors to observe X-ray emissions across the universe. X-rays that strike a “regular” mirror head on will be absorbed, so Chandra’s mirrors are shaped like barrels and precisely constructed. The rest of the spacecraft system provides the support structure and environment necessary for the telescope and the science instruments to work as an observatory. To provide motion to the observatory, Chandra has two different sets of thrusters. To control the temperatures of critical components, Chandra's thermal control system consists of a cooling radiator, insulators, heaters, and thermostats. Chandra's electrical power comes from its solar arrays.

Learn more about the spacecraft's components that were developed and tested at NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center in Huntsville, Alabama. Fun fact: If the state of Colorado were as smooth as the surface of the Chandra X-ray Observatory mirrors, Pike's Peak would be less than an inch tall.

Engineers in the X-ray Calibration Facility at NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center in Huntsville, Alabama, integrating the Chandra X-ray Observatory’s High-Resolution Camera with the mirror assembly, in this photo taken March 16, 1997. Credit: NASA

Launch

When space shuttle Columbia launched on July 23, 1999, Chandra was the heaviest and largest payload ever launched by the shuttle. Under the command of Col. Eileen Collins, Columbia lifted off the launch pad at NASA’s Kennedy Space Center in Florida. Chandra was deployed on the mission’s first day.

Reflected in the waters, space shuttle Columbia rockets into the night sky from Launch Pad 39-B on mission STS-93 from Kennedy Space Center. Credit: NASA

First Light Images

Just 34 days after launch, extraordinary first images from our Chandra X-ray Observatory were released. The image of supernova remnant Cassiopeia A traces the aftermath of a gigantic stellar explosion in such captivating detail that scientists can see evidence of what is likely the neutron star.

“We see the collision of the debris from the exploded star with the matter around it, we see shock waves rushing into interstellar space at millions of miles per hour,” said Harvey Tananbaum, founding Director of the Chandra X-ray Center at the Smithsonian Astrophysical Observatory.

Cassiopeia A is the remnant of a star that exploded about 300 years ago. The X-ray image shows an expanding shell of hot gas produced by the explosion colored in bright orange and yellows. Credit: NASA/CXC/SAO

A New Look at the Universe

NASA released 25 never-before-seen views to celebrate the telescopes 25th anniversary. This collection contains different types of objects in space and includes a new look at Cassiopeia A. Here the supernova remnant is seen with a quarter-century worth of Chandra observations (blue) plus recent views from NASA’s James Webb Space Telescope (grey and gold).

This image features deep data of the Cassiopeia A supernova, an expanding ball of matter and energy ejected from an exploding star in blues, greys and golds. The Cassiopeia A supernova remnant has been observed for over 2 million seconds since the start of Chandra’s mission in 1999 and has also recently been viewed by the James Webb Space Telescope. Credit: NASA/CXC/SAO

Can You Hear Me Now?

In 2020, experts at the Chandra X-ray Center/Smithsonian Astrophysical Observatory (SAO) and SYSTEM Sounds began the first ongoing, sustained effort at NASA to “sonify” (turn into sound) astronomical data. Data from NASA observatories such as Chandra, the Hubble Space Telescope, and the James Webb Space Telescope, has been translated into frequencies that can be heard by the human ear.

SAO Research shows that sonifications help many types of learners – especially those who are low-vision or blind -- engage with and enjoy astronomical data more.

Click to watch the “Listen to the Universe” documentary on NASA+ that explores our sonification work: Listen to the Universe | NASA+

An image of the striking croissant-shaped planetary nebula called the Cat’s Eye, with data from the Chandra X-ray Observatory and Hubble Space Telescope.  NASA’s Data sonification from Chandra, Hubble and/or Webb telecopes allows us to hear data of cosmic objects. Credit: NASA/CXO/SAO

Celebrate With Us!

Dedicated teams of engineers, designers, test technicians, and analysts at Marshall Space Flight Center in Huntsville, Alabama, are celebrating with partners at the Chandra X-ray Center and elsewhere outside and across the agency for the 25th anniversary of the Chandra X-ray Observatory. Their hard work keeps the spacecraft flying, enabling Chandra’s ongoing studies of black holes, supernovae, dark matter, and more.

Chandra will continue its mission to deepen our understanding of the origin and evolution of the cosmos, helping all of us explore the Universe.

The Chandra Xray Observatory, the longest cargo ever carried to space aboard the space shuttle, is shown in Columbia’s payload bay. This photo of the payload bay with its doors open was taken just before Chandra was tilted upward for release and deployed on July 23, 1999. Credit: NASA

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space: http://nasa.tumblr.com

[callsignrooroo]

You Never Left Me

A/N: Eeee! Here it is y’all! So excited to for this be out there. This was my first time writing straight smut, so I hope I did it justice!

Minors and ageless blogs do not interact!

A big thank you to @hederasgarden for being my beta for a large portion of this fic!

Word Count: 3.7K

Warnings: Parent loss, p in v sex, AFAB reader, mentioned birth control, unsafe sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), dirty talk. I think that’s it, if anyone sees anything else please feel to dm me!

Coming back home always felt heavy. It had been five long years since you lost everything you knew, including your parents, to a tornado that happened faster than you could blink. Five long years since the last time you saw your one that got away– Tyler Owens. 

Blinking dust out of your eyes, you jumped out of your truck. You were right down the road from the motel where you were staying and had stopped to get some snacks for the morning. You had to be at the bank first thing and knew you wouldn't have time for breakfast. Just as you were walking up to the gas station door, it burst open and before you could get out of the way, you knocked into two figures. 

“Lily, you dumbass, I told you to slow down,” Boone snapped. 

“Oh shut it, it’s not like you are in any less rush, you're just as much a sucker for Tyler's cooking as the rest of us,” Lily grumbled. 

All three of you stopped in your tracks as you made eye contact.

“Shit”, you said.

“Shit,” Lily and Boone echoed simultaneously. 

You heard someone grumble from behind your two friends, and you quickly stepped out of the way, pulling them both with you. 

“So, uh, I thought you guys were in Enid,” you said awkwardly. 

Boone started sputtering and Lily cut him off. “Boone, you're going to catch flies. And, you, after five years of not seeing each other in person, that’s all you have to say,” she exclaimed. 

You cast your eyes downward.

Boone, however, finally seemed to get his tongue in working order. “Does Tyler know you're here?” he questioned. 

Your eyes snapped back up at the mention of his name. “No,” you emphasized.

Boone got a distinct look of disapproval on his face, and Lily looked at you like she knew something you didn’t. 

“Oh, this is going to end well,” Boone said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. 

Lily shoved him and he huffed. “You have to tell him,” she said, her eyes on yours.

This was precisely what you were afraid of and exactly why you planned your trip around their posted schedule on  YouTube. You weren’t sure you'd ever be ready to deal with him, not after you left.  “No, I don’t. I’m leaving in two days, and as much as I wish I could stay,” 

Boone scoffed, and Lily shoved him again, 

“I have work to get back to,” you explained. 

Lily crossed her arms and her expression shifted to hard determination. “If you don’t tell him, I will,” she stated simply. You blinked hard, and even Boone looked surprised by her boldness. 

“Lily, please, nothing good will come out of this,” you begged. 

The black-haired girl shook her head. “I mean it, he deserves to know,” she said seriously.

You felt tears prick your eyes. “Lily, please, I can't do this now, it’s been too long,” you pleaded. 

Her dark eyes softened and she reached for your hand. “Trust me, he needs to know,” she assured. Your eyes flicked to Boone’s and you could tell he agreed. 

“Fine, I’ll tell him,” you relented. 

“You promise,” she questioned, eyebrows raised. 

“I promise.”

She smiled brightly and pulled you into a hug. “Good. Text me before your flight and we can all get breakfast before you leave,” she chirped. 

You glanced at Boone, and before you could open your mouth, he hugged you and squeezed you tight. “You better text us,” he said into your hair. 

You smiled. “I promise.”. 

Lily looked at her phone and cursed. “Shit, we have to go, Tyler needed the milk to finish the food.” Boone rolled his eyes and grabbed the keys from her.

You shook your head as you walked into the gas station.

Later that night, you stared at Tyler’s contact photo. It was an old one, a picture of him right off a bull, smiling wide, before his injury. You watched the blinking cursor, waiting for some grand thought to strike you on how to tell him you were home. Eventually, you sighed and turned the lamp off.

~~

You closed your eyes as you leaned against your motel door. The morning had been long, and all you wanted to do was sleep. The bankers had been patient with you when they explained where the money in the found account had come from. You were thankful they didn't make things awkward when you started to cry when they explained the money was from a fund your parents set up as a child. You were wiped emotionally, but you knew if you didn't keep your promise to Lily, she would tell Tyler you were in town herself, and you knew that wasn't the right way for him to find out. 

Your phone dinged, and you glanced at it.

From: Lillypad :): We all just left, now’s your chance babes :*

A second later, another text came through. 

From: Booney: he never stopped

You blinked as you stared at the text. Never stopped what? Caring? Missing you the same primal way you missed him? Hating you for leaving him behind after flying out of town like a bat out of hell? You weren't sure, but you knew it was time to find out. 

You slipped out of the dress you wore to the bank and slipped into a tank top, your favorite pair of jeans, and your worn boots. It was now or never. 

To: Lilypad :): He’s still at his mama’s house?

From: Lilypad :): Like he’d ever leave

You felt your heart rate increase as the house came into view. You had so many memories of this place. Memories of the four of you piled up in the living room as kids, memories of you and Tyler sitting on the roof talking about going to college, memories of hugging him as he sobbed when his mama died, and then him holding you in his strong arms after your parents funeral. You shook your head to clear your thoughts, but the one you never stopped thinking of popped into your head instead. 

 The last memory you had of Tyler and this house was five years ago, on the day you left for Texas, and how you swore you saw tears in his green eyes as you drove away from the porch you had both sat on together so many times. You glanced in the visor mirror and realized your eyes were damp. You swiped at them before stepping out of your truck. When Tyler didn't immediately materialize on the front porch, you realized he must be at the back of the house on the sun porch. You took one last deep breath before taking your boots off at the door. You walked in, and a wave of nostalgia hit you as you spotted the magazines by the kitchen sink. You slowly crept through the house, memory after memory hitting you, until you reached the doorway of the sunroom. 

The second your eyes landed on him, it felt like a piece of your heart clicked back into place, and you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be. Thoughts of Texas were forgotten, and you just took him in. He looked good, even better than you remembered. He had a pencil in his mouth, and his brows were creased as he stared at his computer. You stood there and just took in the sight of him until eventually, he looked up.

He blinked several times before getting to his feet. He stood there for several long moments before crossing the room in a few quick steps to stand in front of you. He went to reach for you and then stopped himself. “Are you real?” he whispered into the silence. 

“Hi Tyer,” you murmured. The second his name left your lips, he was pulling you into a crushing hug. You immediately relaxed into his arms, overwhelmed by the feeling of his solid chest against yours and the smell of him; fresh laundry, wind, and something that was so intrinsically Tyler, you could never pinpoint it. 

“You’re here,”  he breathed into your hair. 

You nodded as best as you could pressed so close. “I’m home,” you said, voice laced with double meaning. 

“How? Why? Hey, look at me,” he said gently when you looked down at your feet. 

He hooked his thumb on your chin and brought your head up so you could look up into his eyes. “The bank,” you explained lowly.  He gazed into your eyes, patiently waiting. “The bank found an account, and I had to come sign for it,” you told him. 

“Your parents?” he questioned softly. 

When you didn't answer, he just continued staring into your eyes. He moved closer to you and caressed his thumb over your cheek. “You are one of the strongest people I know,” he said, voice laced with awe. 

You shook your head, temporarily dislodging his fingers from your face.  “I’m not,” you uttered. 

He brought his other hand up to your face and cradled your face. “You are,” he admired. 

You felt moisture gather in your eyes. “How can you say that, I left,” you sniffed. 

He shook his head and brushed a thumb over your cheekbone. “But you came back,” he muttered. The to me went without saying. 

“Tyler,” you said softly, letting yourself trail off.

“You came back,” he emphasized.

“I wasn’t going to,” you whispered.

You felt him flinch. “I wasn’t going to say anything to anyone, and I thought y’all were in Enid wrangling tornados, but then I saw Lily and Boone, and then Lily said if I didn’t tell you, she’d tell you herself, and I knew that wasn’t the right way to find out, so I came here to see you,” you said in a rush.

He glanced away from you, your face still in his hands, before looking back down at you, and you could see the moisture in his eyes. 

“You weren’t going to tell me you were home?” he asked. 

You couldn’t bear to look at the heartbreak in his green eyes, so you broke out of his embrace and sat on the worn sofa in front of the window. “I didn’t know how and wasn’t sure if you still…” you trailed off again. 

He gingerly sat near to you, close enough that your thighs were touching. “If I still what, sweetheart?” he asked as he leaned closer. 

You shrugged, and you both sat in silence for a few moments. “Boone said you never stopped,” you said quietly.

He moved even closer, tugging your legs so they lay over his lap.  “Did he elaborate?” he pressed. 

You shook your head and looked back into his eyes. Just then, you saw all of him. The softness he held for you, how he was letting himself be vulnerable, and the love he felt for you all shining through his eyes. 

“He didn’t have to,” you admitted. 

“Darlin, I know you know,” he said. “All those nights we watched the sky, and all the days spent in this very room, you have to know,” he said. 

You squeezed your eyes shut before opening them again and leaning closer so your foreheads were touching, leaving you practically sitting in his lap. “Of course I did, I’ve always known Tyler since we were kids,” you said emphatically. He let out a shuddery breath but you continued. “But then I lost everything, and it felt like everything changed, and I had to get out, to get away from the grief. I know now, I left you but you never left me.” You had tears running down your face, but Tyler wiped them away with his thumb. 

“Can I kiss you?” he questioned, his lips millimeters from yours. 

Instead of replying, you leaned forward to close the minuscule gap. He groaned into your mouth and you wrapped your arms around his neck. When the two of you had to part for air, Tyler immediately ducked down to suck on your neck. 

“Tyler, the marks,” you said weakly. 

“Yeah baby, I bet you’re gonna wear them like a trophy,” he hummed against your throat. You moaned and pulled him back up to your lips by his hair, and he groaned into your mouth. “That’s it, sweetheart, let me hear you,” he mumbled. You moaned again when he gently bit your lip, his tongue quickly coming behind to soothe it. “Tell me this is okay; tell me I can show you how much I’ve always loved you,” he begged.

“Show me, please. Show me, Ty,” you said softly.

He went back to your neck, peppering you with small kisses and intermittent sucks.

“Tyler, I need more,” you whined. 

“More,” he wondered. 

“Please Tyler, don't tease,” you begged, tugging at his hair. He shifted you so you were straddling his sweatpant-clad thigh, and smirked when you moaned at the friction. 

“Fuck,” you whimpered. 

“Is that what you needed darlin’?” he teased. 

You bit your lip and brought your hand down to cup him through his sweatpants and he groaned, his forehead coming to rest against yours. 

“Is that what you needed, darlin’?” you parroted, eyebrow raised. 

“Oh you little-,” he cut himself off by rolling you both over so you were caged underneath him, quickly adjusting so his knee was connected to your core. 

“Sweetheart, I’ve waited too damn long for this for us to tease each other,” he confessed as he kissed down your neck. 

“Why don’t you do something about it then cowboy?” you asked, smirking. 

“There’s that fire,” he chuckled. He sat up on his legs, pulling you with him, and in one fluid motion, he had your tank top on the floor. He attached his lips to your newly revealed collarbone, one-handedly unlipped your bra, and added that to the quickly growing pile of clothes. You kicked your boots off and turned back to find him staring.

You shivered under his stare. “Your turn cowboy,” you told him, tugging on his shirt. 

In one move his shirt was on the ground, and he was pressed up against your bare chest. 

“Kiss me, please Tyler,” you pled. 

He kissed both of your cheeks before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. You moaned as you pressed down against his thigh harder, slowly starting to grind yourself down. A second later he was kissing his way down your chest, stopping to circle his tongue against your left nipple, and then the right one, before going back to suck the left one into his mouth. 

You moaned in pleasure and your hand shot up to grip his hair, causing him to moan against your skin. “Fuck,” you cursed, arching your back as he gently bit down. He crept lower, kissing along your stomach as he went. He kissed along the edge of your jeans and raised a hand to undo the button. He let his head fall back down and leaned in, slowly bringing down the zipper with his teeth. 

“Tyler, holy fuck,” you groaned. You could practically feel his smirk against your thigh.

 “Yeah? I thought you might like that,” he chuckled. 

He peeled your jeans off and then stood up. When you looked at him with confusion, his smoldering eyes softened. “Sweetheart, as long as I've waited for this, you can bet that sweet ass of yours that the first time I get inside you will not be on a couch. 

You giggled as he pulled you up into his arms, your legs automatically wrapping around his muscular hips. You buried your face in his neck as he carried you the short distance to his room, sucking and biting your marks into his perfect skin. 

You whimpered at the loss of contact as he lowered you to the bed. He kissed you softly, and you sighed happily as his tongue brushed against yours. He brushed his hands over your shoulders, down your arms, and to your stomach. He rubbed your clit through your panties, and you arched into his touch. “How long has it been, sweetheart,” he questioned with a kiss to your hip bone. 

“Too long,” you panted. 

A moan broke out of your throat when he sunk his teeth into the meat of your thigh. 

“Tyler, please, I need you,” you begged brokenly. He hummed again as he hooked his fingers on the sides of your panties, slowly peeling them down your legs, leaving wet kisses as he went. 

“Fuck honey, look at you,” he said in awe. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he said.

You groaned and threw an arm over your red cheeks.

“Nuh huh,” Tyler admonished. “Let me see all of you. I’ve waited so long for this, sweet girl,” he said as he slid his fingers over your slicked entrance. 

“Shit, Ty,” you breathed. 

“There we go,” he said, his eyes alight, “let me hear you.”

He dipped his middle finger inside you, gathering your wetness, before he got down on his stomach. He slid his finger in and out, his mouth just a breath away from where you needed him the most. 

“I thought you said no teasing,” you whined as you moved to tug him where you needed him. Before you could, he licked a stripe right through your core. “Fuck,” you yelped.

He didn't say another word, just clamped his large hands around your thighs and licked at you like a man starved. 

“Ty, Ty, Ty,” you chanted. 

He mumbled something against you, and you groaned at the vibrations. 

He pulled away just long enough to suck in a deep breath and murmur, “Sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted.” before attaching his lips to your clit. He eased a finger inside of you, and then moments later, he added another. 

“Ty, fuck, please, I'm ready, I need you,” you sobbed. He withdrew his fingers and crawled back up to pull you in for a kiss. 

You both simultaneously groaned at the taste of you on your tongues. 

He pressed himself against your dripping core, and you gasped into his mouth. Even through his sweatpants, you could tell he was big. 

“Darlin’,” he started, hissing when you pushed your hips down onto him, “I want this just as bad, but I’ll let you know when you can take me,” he finished. 

You ground down on him again, and he hissed through his teeth. “Tyler Owens, if you don't finish what you started in the next five seconds, I'm going to leave and finish it myself,” you threatened. You both knew it was an empty threat; you wanted each other too badly and had waited too long to call it quits now, but the empty threat seemed to put him into overdrive. He peeled his sweatpants off and went back down to suck at your clit. 

“How about this honey? Give me one, and I’ll fill you up like you need,” he bargained. Before you could respond, he was face-first into your pussy, two fingers curling just right. 

“Fuck,” you screamed. 

He pulled away to watch your face, his fingers never stopping. “That’s it, darlin’, come for me, come for me, and I’ll give you my cock,” he crooned at you.

Your arm shot out, and your nails dug into his bicep as you screamed out your orgasm. Before the after-shocks even subsided, Tyler was kissing you hard as he lined himself up with your entrance.

You both groaned when he finally sunk into you. “Fuck darlin’, if you keep squeezin’ me like that, this is going to be over faster than we both want,” he cursed from above you. 

“Fuck Ty, I can't help it,” you whined. It didn't take long for you to adjust, and before you knew it, you were begging again. “Ty, move,” you begged. He started slow, building up a rhythm, and before long, he was letting out small groans in time to his thrusts.

The two of you fell into a breathless rhythm of give-and-take, sweat shining on Tyler's temple and your hair like a halo around your head. 

On a specific stroke, your eyes rolled back into your head. You shouted and dug your heels into his back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you squealed. 

“Yeah, right there, honey. Did I find your sweet spot,” he crooned. 

You clenched down, and he cursed. “Don't stop, Ty,” you cried. Your whole body felt lit up from the inside out. 

He pulled almost all the way out and swiftly pushed back in. Your bodies moved in tandem, a give and take until all you could do was grip his sweat-slicked bicep and hold on. 

“Fuck, I'm close, sweetheart. Give me one more, one more. Let me see you come undone for me,” he moaned. 

He reached down to rub your clit, and your back arched, your whole body like a live wire.

“Fuck, fuck, where,” he stammered. 

“Inside, fuck Tyler, please, give it to me. I’ve got an implant. Give it to me, baby,” you chanted. 

He groaned and fell forward to rest his head on your shoulder as he came. You both lay there for several moments, breathing harshly into each other's ears. 

Eventually, Tyler pulled you close and gently pulled out, shushing you gently as you whined. “I’ll be right back, darlin’,” he told you. You smiled to yourself and sunk deeper into the mattress. A second later, Tyler exited the in-suite bathroom and gently wiped you off with a warm washcloth. When he was done, he threw it in the hamper, crawled behind you, and spooned you close. He kissed your head and sighed in contentment. You both lay there in silence for a while, soaking up each other's warmth and drawing random patterns onto each other’s skin.

After a while, you pipped up. “I have to go back to Texas.” Tyler’s whole body tensed, but before he could say anything, you rolled over to face him and silenced him with a kiss. “I have a job to quit and a lease to break,” you told him gently, smiling. 

He grinned at you. “I think I know a place you can stay at so last minute,” he told you before leaning in for a kiss.

[juney-blues]

the car missions are a bit of a huge pain in the ass. especially the "don't hit the walls" ones. but i still kinda like them anyway because they control a bit like a jankier F Zero X.

sonic adventure 2 is a score attack game where you're primarily trying to A rank every single alternate mission for each level the game gives you. this is the most enjoyable way of playing the game because it means you actually get good at it.

[mochi-mika]

october 7th - somnophilia w/ geto, rindou, bachira

content warnings - somnophilia, drugging, baby trapping, gas lighting, fingering, cunilingus, mentions of bondage, suggested wet dream

MDNI!

suguru geto

“You're the prettiest when you're quiet, you know.” Geto whispered in your ear, his breath warm and teasing against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His fingers prodded gently at your gummy walls, the sensation both familiar and electrifying, making it a marvel that you could sleep through his ministrations.

“Don't have to fight with you for the last word, feisty little brat.” He smirked, the sound of his voice low and playful, as his thumb worked nimbly at your sensitive bud of nerves. The way he moved was both skilled and relentless, a rhythm that thrummed through you like a heartbeat.

He noticed you stirring, the soft flutter of your lashes against your cheeks, but that didn’t deter him. The heat of his body enveloped you, his fingers dancing with a deliberate precision that sent waves of warmth pooling in your core. Each stroke was a whisper against the backdrop of the night, and you found it harder to resist the pull of awareness tugging at you.

He prodded his fingers at your entrance, ensuring to capture the webs of your arousal drenching his fingers. “Suguru?” you groggily called out, trying to figure out just what the heck was going on. “What are you…doing?” you now adjusted to the feeling of a man's finger inside you. “You woke me up, love.” He half confessed, not steeling his movements.

The palm of his hand cupped the top of your vulva to give him better access to your sweeter spot causing you to spread your legs a bit for him to get better access. “You were calling out to me. I couldn't just let you suffer.” His words as tantalizingly sweet as honey.

rindou haitani

Rindou brushed a strand away from your face as his hips snapped against yours harshly. You sleeped peaceful– not willingly; you were drugged. You were so perfect like this; pliable. He dug his nails into your hips as he anchored himself there. 

You kept denying his advances. He didn't need to be this way. He's a green flag for Pete's sake! He was charming and kind and even a little awkward but something about him was a bit off putting for you. So you turned him down, time and again. In his mind, even the biggest oak tree could be cut down with a spoon eventually. 

But he grew tired of waiting. Your insistence to keep turning him down, although endearing, was annoying. This entire “hard-to-get” act wore him down. Which was exactly why you were in this position now.

Rindo never wanted to resort to these tactics; you forced his hand. He didn’t want to deceive you into housesitting; you left him no choice but to lie. He never wanted to baby trap you, yet your actions drove him to it. If only you had truly listened when he made it clear, time and again, that you were the one he desired.

Now, he has you tied to his bed, fulfilling a twisted plan. As he prepares to drive the nail in the coffin, he’s counting on you to realize you’re pregnant. In that moment of vulnerability, he’ll offer his support, all while weaving his web of manipulation. He knows your unstable emotions will leave you questioning your choices, and he’ll be there to position himself as your only option. It’s a game to him—a way to ensure you see him as your savior, even if it means playing with your heart and mind. Who knows how far he’ll go to keep you under his control?

meguru bachira

Sweet dreams. This whimsical scene is not unusual for you; your dreams often carry the essence of warmth and friendship, a reflection of your cheerful spirit. It's a comforting reminder that even in your slumber, the bonds you share with others continue to thrive, turning ordinary moments into sweet, sweet memories that linger long after the morning light breaks.

However, your sweet, sweet boyfriend isn't always granted the kindness of such jovial dreams. Most times, he doesn't dream at all. When he does dream though, just like tonight, it's often of you and it ends up making him make a mess on his briefs. Tonight, he didn't feel like being the only messy one so he got to work. He snuck his way under the sheets, gliding his fingers along the curve of your legs. “You made me all messy again, sweet thing.” He whispered as he made his way between your legs.

He trailed kisses up from your knees and between your thighs till he reached the warmth at the top where he placed a light kiss atop your underwear. “Let's see how long you can stay asleep.” He snickered a bit to himself as he hooked his fingers along the sides of your underwear and pulled it down just enough for him to work.

The pads of his fingers mush between your puffy lips, gently pressing the folds open so he could feast. The wet muscle of his tongue peered up and between your folds, lapping at the fluids. His mouth sucked lewdly, resting the crook of his nose to ground his lips into lush flesh of your core further.

You pressed into pillows, oblivious the man feasting on you below your waist. All you could picture, were the blissful dreams now warped into graphic scenes of sweat drenched bodies colliding. Bachira worked his tongue in and out so deep, he was testing your limits.

[godsfavdarling]

It’s like chess at 200 miles per hour

my masterlist

pairing: Spencer Reid x male!reader

words: 820

summary: You, a forumla 1 driver, find yourself in a relationship with a nerdy FBI agent.

warnings: none!

a/n: This was a request! fyi, I don’t know shit about cars or Formula 1. I even worked at a gas station for six months and couldn’t tell you a single thing about cars or car brands. Nothing. I don’t have a driver’s license. Just wanted to share that I don’t know much, but I hope you enjoy this! <3

The bar was dimly lit, the murmur of conversations blending with the clinking of glasses. You leaned against the counter, waiting for your drink, when you noticed a man at the other end, eyes fixed on the television screen. A Formula 1 race was playing, the roar of engines faint but unmistakable.

Curious, you moved closer, catching snippets of his conversation with the bartender. He was talking about the science behind the sport, his voice carrying an unmistakable enthusiasm.

“It’s fascinating how the aerodynamics affect the speed and control of the car,” he said, adjusting his glasses. “And the mental focus required is just as impressive.”

You smiled, intrigued by his knowledge. “You seem to know a lot about racing,” you said, taking the seat next to him.

He turned to you, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. “Oh, I’m just fascinated by the complexity of it all. I’m Spencer, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Spencer. I’m y/n. I happen to know a bit about racing myself.”

His eyes widened with curiosity. “Really? Are you a fan?”

You chuckled. “Something like that. I’m… actually a driver.”

Spencer’s expression shifted to one of surprise and admiration. “Wow, that’s incredible! What’s it like being out there on the track?”

“It’s a rush, unlike anything else,” you replied. “But there’s a lot more strategy and precision involved than people realize.”

As the night went on, you found yourself engrossed in conversation with Spencer. His analytical mind delved into every aspect of the sport, and you enjoyed explaining the nuances of driving at high speeds. He was genuinely interested, and his enthusiasm was contagious.

After that night, you and Spencer kept in touch. Your first official date was at a quiet bookstore, a stark contrast to the noise and adrenaline of the racetrack. Over coffee and books, you talked for hours and you knew. You knew this was it. He was the one.

Spencer quickly became your biggest supporter. Whenever his schedule allowed, he was at your races, often seen in the stands with a book in one hand and a team cap on his head. His BAU team teased him about being a 'celebrity boyfriend', but they saw how happy you made him. How happy you made each other.

Your high-octane lifestyle provided a thrilling contrast to Spencer’s more cerebral one. You brought excitement and spontaneity to his life, while he helped you stay grounded and centered. The balance was perfect.

Despite his logical mind, Spencer sometimes worried about your safety on the track. He had seen too many unpredictable scenarios in his line of work to be completely at ease. You reassured him with your skill and experience, explaining the rigorous safety protocols and measures in place. 

Over time, his confidence in your abilities grew, though the concern never entirely disappeared. It was simply a part of how much he cared for you.

The roar of the engines was a familiar symphony, reverberating through the stadium. You adjusted your helmet, the weight of the race settling in your chest. It was another day on the track, another chance to prove your mettle. But today was different - today, Spencer was in the stands.

You caught a glimpse of him as you climbed into your car, his lanky frame easily distinguishable even amidst the sea of fans. He waved, a small, proud smile playing on his lips. That smile always managed to calm your nerves, grounding you before the adrenaline took over.

The race started, and you were in your element. Speeding down the straights, expertly maneuvering the turns, you could almost feel Spencer’s eyes on you, analytical and full of admiration. Every lap, every second shaved off, was for him.

Hours later, drenched in sweat but victorious, you found Spencer waiting for you in the pit lane. His face lit up when he saw you, and he practically bounced on his toes in excitement.

“You were incredible out there!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide with genuine awe.

You chuckled, pulling him into a tight hug, the scent of rubber and gasoline mingling with his familiar cologne. “Thanks, Spence. It means a lot having you here.”

He blushed, glancing down before looking back up at you, his gaze soft. “I think I’m beginning to understand why you love this so much. The strategy, the precision - it’s like chess at 200 miles per hour.”

You laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Exactly. And I couldn’t ask for a better person to share it with.Thank you for coming”

Spencer’s fingers laced through yours, his touch a calming contrast to the thrill of the race. 

He looked back at you, his expression serious but warm. “I’m proud of you. And I’ll be here, for every race. Always.”

With a nod, you pulled him into a quick, firm hug, the smell of fuel and rubber mixing with his familiar scent. “Thanks, Spencer. That means more than you know.”

[freak-accident419]

we might be dead by tomorrow

Derek Danforth x GN!Reader

Summary: Because everyone seemed to fail him, Derek Danforth decided to call you up to kill Mr. Clay. You are an assassin that had an intimate, yet complicated relationship with Derek in the past, sharing a bittersweet history together. You realize that you’re going against a Beekeeper, and felt obligated to spend one last night with your old lover, as this mission doesn’t guarantee your survival. But you’d do anything for him—even if it meant dying for him.

WC: 4.4k

Content: 18+ smut, MDNI, gender neutral reader, unspecified genitals for reader (vague penetration), more plot than porn tbh, cursing, smoking, drinking, mentions of death, slight spoilers for The Beekeeper but nothing too drastic

(A/n: Thank you guys for showing me so much support lately. I hope you guys enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it :) love you all !!)

-

You raised your glass to your lips, letting the rich, smooth liquid of scotch graze your tongue and go down your throat seamlessly after your brief sip.

You look at the man behind the office desk in front of you. It wasn’t like you haven’t seen him in a ridiculously long time, probably just for a couple of months to a year, more or less. But you never got tired of looking at him when you could. He was an incorrigible asshole, but his beautiful, hazel eyes would convey otherwise. He was an immoral, selfish dick, but the way his lips formed into a smile could convince anybody with basic cognition that he was an angel.

The silence was awkward, indubitably because of the complicated past you shared, but the eye contact really wasn’t—if anything, it was subtly bittersweet. And instead of being at his office inside Danforth Enterprises, you were at his office inside his mansion, which already revealed the secrecy and urgency of his request: he wanted you to kill for him again.

“Nobody has a name for this guy, no leads, no info, no nothing, he is off the fucking grid,” he explained to you sternly. “I was gonna make fuckin’… Wallace fix shit up, but his incompetent fucking men keep failing me, so—”

“You’re taking manners into your own hands and your last resort was hiring me? After, like, months of radio silence from me?”

He perked up at your words, then nodded, taking a lazy sip of his drink. “Precisely.”

“Okay,” you nodded accordingly. It was second nature, instantly agreeing to something this morbid, but you were an assassin after all, and Derek had hired you quite frequently in the past to take care of things. It was actually how you two initially met and eventually became intimate through—for a while, at least. “What’re you offering?” You ask, taking a cigarette out from one small box in your pocket.

“One million,” he answered briefly. However, you scoffed in disbelief, which almost immediately gained a perplexed reaction from him. “What?”

“Let’s go over the facts,” you begin, leisurely crossing your legs by resting your ankle onto your other knee. “This guy burned down your thirty million dollar call center. He could’ve definitely been related to the goddamn gas station explosion, killed all the guys you sent, and you were the last to hear from Garnett before he died at the hands of this man.” You took out your lighter and placed the cigarette in your mouth. “This guy is fucking intense. He is out for blood, your blood, Derek. It looks like he’s going to kill anyone who gets in his way, and if that’s gonna be me, I expect a higher fucking payment.” Your voice was slightly raised at the end of your sentence as you lit your cigarette, taking a long drag.

Derek sighed as he realized that you had a point. You always did, actually, in fact, he nearly always obeyed you. It was like you were the only person who could control that firecracker of a man. “Fuck… Fucking fine. Three million.”

You give a smug smile, blowing out the smoke from your drag and letting your cigarette rest between your fingers once you moved it out of your mouth. “See how easy that was?” You tease cheekily, seeing his brows knit in impatience and exasperation. You pursed your lips before asking, “What’s this guy’s deal anyway? Like, what do you know about him so far?”

Derek huffed with agitation. “Fuck, I don’t know, he… He just fucks around with all my shit, apparently he’s a-a fuckin’ beekeeper, and—”

“Wait, what?” Your eyes widen, heart practically racing as you heard those words come out of his mouth. Was it purely coincidental, or…

“What?” He asked as he noticed how exceedingly pale your face went. You never had this expression on your face, at least not in front of him. You were always seen by him as perpetually unafraid, but in this very moment, you seemed to be unusually apprehensive. “Fuck, Y/n, what is it?”

“Did you say he was a beekeeper?” You inquired silently, fidgeting with your fingers.

“Yeah, that’s the only fucking thing we know about him. Why?” Derek seemed to appear gruff and utterly pissed on the outside, but internally and authentically, he was fundamentally solicitous, especially for you. Why were you, if anything, afraid?

“Yeah, that can’t be a fucking coincidence,” you mumble thoughtfully to yourself as you take an anxious drag from your cigarette. “The Beekeepers is some kind of secret organization, completely off the goddamn grid that consists of professionally trained assassins. And let me tell you, Danforth, these guys are hard-fucking-core. You thought I was terrible? These guys are fucking worse,” you stress, waving your cigarette around as the trail of smoke followed your hand gestures. “If this guy is a part of them, then holy shit, the both of us are dead.”

Derek processes your words, however only growing antsy and disgruntled. “So what? You can handle another fucking cocksucker. I know you, your skills are off the charts.”

“Hey, I know myself more than anybody does, including you. And I know that I have a very advanced skillset, but maybe not as advanced as fucking Beekeepers. Look, Danforth, I will definitely put up a fight, but this man could definitely—”

“Y/n, you’re the best fucking assassin I fucking know, just—just do the fucking job,” he demanded relentlessly, displeased with your insistent, yet assertively spoken doubt.

You glared at him with agitation for a few seconds, before speaking again.

“Five million,” you state bluntly.

“What?”

“Five fucking million, Danforth. If you want me to kill this man, let alone a fucking beekeeper, I expect higher pay,” you argue tactfully.

You sense a sort of irked frustration in him, his face contorted, teeth gritting behind his closed lips, and dark eyes, in which you’ve seen on several previous occasions.

“Goddamnit, Y/n, he’s just another fucking guy! Just, fuck, snipe him if you have to, or whatever,” he insisted tiredly. “You’re the best killer I know. This guy doesn’t have shit on you, just—”

“Danforth, I’m not a hundred percent sure that I’ll come back from this mission alive, so five million or no deal!” You exclaimed, trying to emphasize how dangerous this job would be.

“Jesus! Fuck! Fine!” he conceded aggressively, leaning back in his chair. “Five million it is,” he grumbled.

You feel your eyes soften and your eyebrows relax pleasantly the moment you heard those words. You grinned mischievously, taking another drag from your cigarette. “Pleasure doing business with you.” Derek rolled his eyes in response, displeased by the amount of money he was going to give you just to kill one guy.

“Sure, whatever,” he replies lazily. “I trust you, so whoever—”

You scoffed amusedly, interrupting him. “You shouldn’t,” you say.

“What?” He was extremely baffled as he heard your response.

“You shouldn’t trust me,” you repeat.

“Umm, okay, and why-why the fuck not?” Derek was frustratingly oblivious, too ignorant to comprehend the contentious situation between you two that resulted in a long period of desolated avoidance.

“You are aware that I have tried to kill you, yes?”

A piercing silence.

It was true, unfortunately. Back when you were constantly doing jobs for Derek, an anonymous hire suddenly offered more than $80 million for you to assassinate him. Back then, you were marginally involved with Derek in an intimate setting. You worked for him as his executioner, and soon enough, your charm led to you sleeping together on several occasions and exchanging some sweet kisses and words, alongside the establishment of affectionate pet names. What hurt the most about it was that it was all authentic, his feelings and yours. However, you were weak and selfish and overall blinded with greed. Eighty million was drastically more than any amount you were ever hired with. So you took up the offer to assassinate President Jessica Danforth’s young, foolish son.

You were going to pull the trigger once your eyes locked on the target, but the second you did, you missed, causing severe lockdowns and the anticipated presence of the secret service. And when it all died down, Derek caught you with his own eyes as you attempted to escape, yet shockingly, he let you go. And you barely kept in contact ever again—until now.

“It—It doesn’t matter, Y/n, okay, I don’t see you pointing a gun at my head anymore, so it’s all in the past, alright?” He raised his glass to his lips, drinking the remaining bourbon (he preferred it more than scotch).

“Wh—? Okay, why the fuck are you so calm about it? I tried to kill you, don’t you understand that?” You stressed, continuing to frustratingly watch his nonchalant reaction to you.

He set his glass back down on the table, not even bothering to put it on the actual coaster, which was literally just about an inch away. “It’s because I know you, Y/n. I know that you’re the best fucking assassin I’ve ever hired and you never miss a shot. You’re, like, completely flawless at what you do. And because you’re that perfect at it, it amuses me that you missed when you had such a clear shot at me.” You glared at him as he spoke, plainly vexed.

“You were fucking afraid,” he continued, making you huff in disbelief. “You didn’t wanna kill me. Sure, eighty million seemed promising, but it didn’t live up to the sex and passionate admiration we had for each other. I trust you because I know now that if you were offered all the diamonds and golds in the entire fucking world, you still wouldn’t kill me for any of it.”

You hated how much this was true. You couldn’t kill him if you had the chance. Which was what mainly pissed you off, because he had to be the most annoying, arrogant, egotistical bastard you knew. And yet, you had a soft spot for him. And he had a soft spot for you. You were way too fond of him.

You sigh afterwards, knowing that he was completely right, whether you’d like it or not. “Well… Okay, do you trust me when I say that there is no guarantee that I’m coming back alive—”

“Goddamnit, Y/n, enough about this!” Derek interjected. “I trust that you’ll get the job done—”

“Danforth, I—”

“You know my name,” he snarled. “Use it.”

You groan impatiently, unabashed. “Okay, Derek, well as I said, The Beekeepers is a very elite organization. There is a reason why this guy was able to take down all your men at UDG—”

“It’s because they were fucking incompetent! You, howev—”

“Holy shit, Derek, just shut up for once!” You blurt. “If I don’t make it out alive, then what are you gonna do? Hm?”

“You’re… Y/n, you are going to make it out alive,” he grumbled, tired of your claims.

“Derek, I swear to fucking god—”

“If he fucking kills you, I’ll make sure to rain fucking hell on that bastard and the whole fucking Beekeeper organization itself. Okay?”

And it was clear that he was still so very fond of you.

You gave a slight chuckle, putting out your cigarette on a nearby ashtray. Your hands clasped together in front of you on the surface of the wooden desk, which was also presented in front of him. And so suddenly, Derek placed his hands over yours, lightly grazing the back of your hands and fingers with his fingertips and palms. It was comforting, to say the least, as well as nostalgic.

“I missed you,” you muttered softly, watching the two of your hands fidget with each other, soft, warm skin moving against coarse, cold skin.

“I’ve missed you too,” he mumbled, watching your hands on the table until he moved his eyes up to yours.

“You can deny it all you want, Derek, but I’m not going to get out of this alive or untouched,” you say in the silence of the room.

“I don’t want to believe that,” he simply replied, not wanting to accept the clear reality.

“Well, when you see my obituary in the papers, you’re gonna have to,” you articulate softly as his thumb rubs against yours.

He scoffs in disbelief. “As I said, you’re the best assassin I know. You can easily take out this stupid fucking asshole.” You nod modestly. “I’m serious!”

“Derek, are you trying to flatter me?” You raise an eyebrow with a light chuckle, watching his face gradually turn rosy.

“No, I’m—I’m just pointing out the fuckin’ facts,” he claimed.

“Well… Just in case this is going to be our last night together—”

“It’s not.”

“Well, hypothetically, if—”

“It’s not.”

“Derek!” You exclaim, laughing afterwards. “Just… All I want is for us to spend one night together, as if it’s our last. C’mon, Derek… Let me take care of you.”

It took a short while for him to process your proposal, until he gently held onto your hands to bring them to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “Okay. Fine,” he answered indifferently. However, you knew that he had a soft spot for you.

***

His gentle, soft lips moved with yours as his rough hands gripped your sides tenderly. It’s been months since you’ve been like this with him, extremely vulnerable with each other physically, ever since your attempt to assassinate him caused mere estrangement. Your back was against the cushiony mattress, your hands cupping his face as your tongue began to clash with his, nearly gracefully as the familiarity of his taste burdened your mouth. The nostalgia creeped behind your mind until it penetrated your brain, making you remember all the ways he used to touch you and pleasure you. But in this very moment, he and you were taking your time with each other. To feel the warm, soft skin against fingertips and fingernails that one another missed.

“You should’ve stopped this when I told you to,” you nearly whispered after you pulled away from his lips, while your eyes explored his hazel irises once again.

He seemed to have no care, or at least no reaction, tucking his head down to nip at your sensitive neck, leaving soft kisses along your throat. “My mom probably wouldn’t have won the presidential election without it,” he remarked, lips trailing up from your collarbone to your jaw.

You scoff silently, moving your hands behind his head to tangle his bleached curls in your fingers. “I’m sure she had it all under control. She’s a remarkable woman,” you reply, feeling his lips against yours again, feeling him tug on your bottom lip right before pulling away again.

“Sure, yes, but… you’ve seen the shitty stats… Without the money we earned, she probably wouldn’t be sitting cozy in the damn White House.” Derek was very persistent about his role and reasons for the continuous phishing scam.

“Well… It doesn’t even matter,” you sigh dismally. “You didn’t stop when I warned you, and now look, you’ve got a whole fucking Beekeeper after you.” Your voice was heavy in disappointment and shame. You couldn’t believe that your old lover would possibly meet his demise if you aren’t proficient enough in your mission.

“Y/n. C’mon. We’ve got it all under control,” he affirmed, pressing some reassuring kisses all over your face. “You just have to kill this one dickhead, and things will go back to the way they were.”

Your eyes meet again, feeling your heart race for a split second as you felt utterly captivated by his beauty and concealed love for you. “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance,” you lamented under your breath.

The way his eyes gazed into yours had communicated something you never thought he would ever have: regret. “I know,” he mumbles as you kiss again, a more passionate and accelerated movement that you sensed was becoming intense.

He took off his blazer, throwing it somewhere down on the floor as you discard your jacket. The two of you could barely separate from each other for too long, so you would desperately kiss each time a new article of clothing is removed. You lift off your shirt and Derek goes down on you again to kiss at your neck once more, leaving hickeys on your collarbone and tracing his lips down to your chest. He looks up at you with affection, kissing your lips once again until he would remove his own shirt.

He cradled your face, crashing his lips onto your passionately, instantly moving his tongue with yours through parted lips. “Everything that we had…” you began in a small whisper between ardent kisses. “Was it all real? Or was it just a way for us to…. to blow off steam? To feel something?”

“No, no, no,” he breathed as you could feel his hand sensibly caress your bare sides. “You’re fucking everything to me.”

Essentially, you were terrified. You knew that eventually, you two were going to lose each other. That’s why you were taking time with this, making sure to not take even a millisecond for granted. And deep down, Derek knew that you were right and that there was no certain guarantee that you could kill the Beekeeper. So he cherished this moment with you. Because in the end, he really loves you.

It was never said out loud, but the two of you loved each other immensely. After years of knowing each other, working together, the ‘one-night-stands’ with ‘no strings attached,’ you two fell for each other faster than the bodies that you shot for him. You were practically the only person he could be stable and decent around. It was always seen through abruptly softened eyes at even the smallest mention of your name.

Once you two were completely naked, your bare bodies attached to each other throughout each deep kiss. His hands graciously moved up and down the skin of your waist as your fingers lost itself in his soft hair, bodies radiating warmth against the other.

His eyes locked with yours, and there was some kind of poignant, desperation in them, looking at you as if you were going to disappear the moment he looked away. “Promise me you’ll come back from this mission alive,” he commanded softly in the cold silence of the room.

“I’ve told you already, Derek,” you sigh wistfully. “He’s a few more steps ahead of me.”

There was something almost so pathetic and contradictory about his distraught mannerisms. “Then I give you full permission to abort,” he proposed, “when things get too risky. If you seriously think you’re going to get killed, then forget about the entire fucking mission, forget about me, okay?”

“You know I can’t do that.” You stroke his hair tenderly between your fingertips, pushing his curls away from disorder. “It’s either go with the mission or not at all. There’s no point in getting myself into deep shit just to abort.”

The man sighed as he knew you were right, again. But also… “I don’t care,” he blurts. “I don’t fucking care. You can go as far as you’d like with him, but when shit hits the fan, I need you to at least beg for mercy, get on your fucking knees if you have to. I need you to get out of the situation immediately, Y/n, okay? I can’t lose you. Shit, I can’t fucking lose you, okay, not again.”

Your heart sank.

He really did care for you.

“Do you love me?” You ask quietly.

The hesitation in his response would give the impression that he had to think about your question, but the truth was that he always knew—he always knew the answer. He loved you, indisputably.

“Yes,” he answered silently. Then, with more confidence, “I love you. I love you so much that I cannot afford to lose you. I can’t fucking lose you. I just got you back, you can’t leave me again.”

A small smile appeared at the corner of your lips. “I’m still here, my marmalade,” he shivered pleasantly at your use of your old, affectionate nickname for him. “And I love you too. All of me is here for you. That’s the point of all this.”

After a shared, enamored look, his lips attached to yours, and the two of you couldn’t help but whimper as you felt the aching head of his cock begin to enter you, already stretching you with his size. It wasn’t until his length was pushed fully inside you, making your breath hitch as the warm, complete feeling had sparked bittersweet memories of the two of you doing this together in the past. Most of the times they were faster-paced and rougher. But this? It was all foreignly vanilla to you; this was straight-up making love at its fibrous roots.

Your face was flushed, feeling tingly as he slowly began to move in and out, his hands hooked under your shoulders in a grip as you held his forearms, locking his legs down with your own. He kissed your lips softly, then down to your neck as his thrusts slowly increased, putting all his weight on you as your chests were pressed against each other.

The two of you let out soft moans once every overlapping feeling intensified, breath quickening every snap of Derek’s hips. You moved your hand to the back of his head, tangling his hair in your fingers again as you deepened the kiss, the two of you only parting to breathe.

“Fuck,” he rasped, sinking into you deeper. Your bodies were so close together, nearly merging as you felt each passionate thrust filling you up. “You feel as good as I remembered.” You let his head be buried into your neck as you felt him gently nip the skin, your fingers still wrapped in his curls and you let your eyes rest, completely indulging in the pleasure he offered. “You were right,” Derek breathed softly. “You should’ve killed me when you had the chance.”

You raise an eyebrow at his remark. “Yeah? And why’s that?”

“Because I don’t even want you to do this job anymore. If I’m gonna die because I’ll end up not hiring you, then so be it,” Derek husked, continuing to move inside you, making your fleshy walls flutter in exhilaration. “At this point, I’d rather have me die than you.”

You stutter out a quiet moan as you feel his movements quicken. “Damn. The sex is that good?” You joked, letting out a breathy chuckle.

He rolled his eyes playfully and snickered lowly. “Yes, the sex is that good,” he reciprocated, mumbling in your lips as he thrusted artfully.

It was like he was no longer selfish with it anymore. Sure, the sex you had in the past with him had equally distributed pleasure, but you would find him focusing on his own release sometimes. However, in this very moment, you could tell that he moved generously and patiently, fucking you carefully—‘fucking,’ however, seemed like a more aggressive approach to describe what was happening, which was plainly the opposite of everything entirely; this was pure lovemaking.

You felt yourself tighten around him as he increases his pace, lips no longer focused on kissing you, but driving the two of you to your release. His cock pushed faster and deeper, in and out, his throat withdrawing stuttered, low grunts and loud, quick breaths. You felt a knot in your stomach, your gut stirring in anticipation. “F-fuck,” he murmured as you felt his hot breath on the side of your face. “Y/n, I’m close.”

Your desperate panting became louder as your legs locked down on his even tighter, threatening to bend further. He lifts his head back up to make eye contact with you, seeing the other’s heated faces and loving gaze. “M-me too, baby.”

He kissed your lips deeply once again, thrusting into you at a rhythm that began to falter, quickening with every soft moan you crooned, repeatedly muttering his name with yearn.

Your cries had crescendoed, hearing desperate, higher-pitched grunts escaping Derek’s pretty mouth, as your bodies stayed warm against each other, building sweat from the intensity’s heat. The sound of skin slapping against skin amplified, wet, squelching noises emitting from each fast action of slipping in and out. You felt an overwhelming feeling of pleasure, feeling yourself come closer to your orgasm as your thighs begin to twitch and body begin to ache. It’s almost like you can’t breathe, the way his length fills you up perfectly and caresses your walls sensually.

“D-Derek, I—” Your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head, but you shut them once you feel your lips attached to his. “I’m—fuck—I’m cumming!” You announce, feeling the entirety of your body tense up, already feeling the sensitivity you would feel post-orgasm.

“Hold on, baby, just wait a little longer for me, that’s good, that’s it, fuck,” he breathed frantically, nearly praising your patience and obedience. Derek’s moans becomes louder, practically in unison with yours, and he moaned out your name passionately once the two of you finally came together. Your voice cracks as you call him, hips jolting as you release, feeling yourself become fragile once you clench around him more intensely, back nearly arching in ecstasy. With one last slam of his hips, he came deeply inside you, spilling his warm cum through enraptured and euphoric spurts, making yourself feel entirely filled as his hips remained against yours, cock still utterly inside of you.

The two of you caught your breaths, just to kiss each other again, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck. Because once all the euphoria slowly died down, you remembered the reality of everything: you or him were going to die at the hands of a compulsive vigilante, and not everything you had together was going to last forever.

His head was buried in your neck, placing lazy pecks on it as the two of you held each other comfortably and safely.

“I just got you back,” he muttered. You were the only person that Derek was the most vulnerable around. “I don’t want to lose you again. Please be careful.”

“You know me,” you reassure softly, disregarding everything you had warned him about. You knew you couldn’t stand a chance against this man. But you’d do it anyway, for Derek. “I’ve killed over fifty men throughout my entire job. I’ve got this.”

Suddenly, he remembered everything you said about the Beekeeper, and how you even doubted yourself and your abilities. “But, you said—”

“Forget what I said,” you interrupt. “I’ve got a real drive to kill him, okay, and that’s you. As long as I have you in my head, he doesn’t stand a chance.” You hated lying to him. But at this point, it wasn’t even about the five million dollars or him hiring you at that; it was about protecting him.

“Are you sure? Because you were very persistent—”

You shut him up with a sweet, deep kiss. “Don’t you worry about it, my marmalade. I’ll take care of it.” You lied straight through your tender, flushed lips that he kissed back.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

[corrupte3d-mindz]

Burning Embers

Possessive! Thomas Shelby x Pregnant! Reader

Summary: Thomas would burn the world down then not be able to hear you call his name again.

Wordcount: 5.8k

Warnings:

Possessive! Thomas, arson, gunshots, death, kissing, then lovey dovey stuff from Thomas.

Inspiration: Let the world burn - Chris Grey

The Garrison was a cacophony of noise, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. The dim light of the gas lamps cast a warm, golden glow over the worn wooden surfaces, creating an almost intimate atmosphere despite the throng of patrons. 

Thomas sat in a corner booth, his back against the wall, eyes scanning the room with a calculated indifference. His suit, impeccably tailored, clung to his frame with an air of authority. He had just finished a conversation with a couple of local businessmen, deals and threats interwoven with the ease of a man who knew his power. Arthur burst through the doors, his presence a stark contrast to the quiet control that Thomas exuded. The pub fell silent for a moment as everyone turned to look. Arthur’s face was a mask of urgency, his eyes wild. John, Finn, Michael, Isaiah, and their father followed closely behind, their expressions grim. Johnny Dogs lingered at the rear, his sharp eyes taking in every detail.

"EVERYONE! CLEAR OUT! BY ORDER OF THE PEAKY FUCKING BLINDERS!" Arthur’s voice cut through the air, leaving no room for argument. The patrons scrambled to leave, their conversations halting abruptly. Chairs scraped against the floor, and the sound of hurried footsteps filled the pub as it emptied out, leaving only the Shelby clan and their close associates.

Thomas’s eyes narrowed as he took in the scene, a sense of foreboding settling over him like a dark cloud. He rose slowly, the weight of his gaze heavy on Arthur. "What's goin' on, Arthur?" His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, a warning of the storm brewing beneath the surface. John stepped forward, it would be better if he said it; his face pale and his eyes wide with dread. "Thomas...Sabini, they found Polly's home. And you remember your wife sayin' she was goin' to talk to Polly about somethin'? Well, they fuckin' took her."

Thomas froze, the words hitting him like a physical blow. His eyes darkened, filling with a cold, murderous rage. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a slow, steady drumbeat of fury. His jaw clenched tightly, the muscles in his face twitching with barely restrained violence. He didn't speak for a moment, the silence heavy with the weight of his anger. Arthur exchanged glances with the rest of the men, seeking their silent agreement. They nodded, their faces set with determination. Arthur took a deep breath, steeling himself. "Thomas... she went to Polly because... she's havin' your kid. She's pregnant."

The room seemed to spin for a moment as Thomas processed the information. His wife, his angel in this cold, dark world, was pregnant. And now she was in the hands of his enemies. A growl escaped his throat, low and dangerous. "Those bastards..."

He turned abruptly, his mind already working through the logistics of what needed to be done. His anger sharpened his focus, turning it into a deadly precision. He barked orders to the men, his voice cold and authoritative. "Finn, get the car ready. Isaiah , gather the weapons and petrol; John, Michael, Arthur, you're comin' with me. Johnny, find out where they took her."

The men sprang into action, their movements quick and efficient. Thomas paced the room, his mind racing. He thought of his wife, her gentle smile, the way her eyes lit up when she saw him. She was the light in his life, the warmth that kept the darkness at bay. And now she was carrying his child, their future, and he would move heaven and earth to bring her back safely. He pictured her at Polly’s house, the way she would have sat at the kitchen table, her small frame dwarfed by the large wooden furniture. He imagined her talking to Polly, her voice soft and filled with excitement about the baby. And then the fear she must have felt when Sabini’s men burst in. The thought of her being scared, of her being hurt, made his blood boil. Thomas grabbed his cap, the razor blades sewn into the brim glinting ominously in the dim light. He slid it on, the familiar weight grounding him. He was Thomas Shelby, leader of the Peaky Blinders, and no one threatened his family without paying the price. He glanced around at his men, their faces set with the same determination he felt. They were ready, and so was he.

As they piled into the car, Thomas’s mind was a whirlwind of plans and contingencies. He ran through every possible scenario, every potential outcome. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake, not when so much was at stake. He clenched his fists, the leather of his gloves creaking under the pressure. His wife’s face floated in front of him, her eyes filled with love and trust. He wouldn’t let her down. The drive to Polly’s house was tense, the silence in the car broken only by the occasional muttered curse. Thomas stared out the window, his mind a storm of thoughts. He had always been a man of action, but this time it was different. This time it was personal. He could feel the weight of the responsibility pressing down on him, but it only made him more determined.

The Shelby family had always been a force to be reckoned with, a tight-knit unit bound by blood and an unbreakable code of loyalty. Today, that bond was tested as they stood in Polly's ransacked house, the air thick with tension and unspoken fears. Thomas, surveyed the wreckage with a cold, calculating gaze, his heart a tight knot in his chest. The familiar surroundings, now torn apart, mirrored the turmoil inside him. The signs of a struggle were everywhere. Furniture overturned, shattered glass glittering like cruel stars on the floor, and papers scattered in a chaotic swirl. Thomas’s sharp eyes took in every detail, his mind racing through the possible scenarios. His wife, the angel in his dark and brutal world, was taken. She was pregnant, carrying their future, and now she was in danger. He felt a surge of anger, a visceral, consuming rage that threatened to break his carefully maintained composure.

John and Arthur stood nearby, their faces etched with concern and barely restrained fury. Michael, younger but no less determined, clenched his fists at his sides, his eyes darting nervously around the room. Polly, ever the matriarch, sat in the corner, a bruise darkening her cheek but her spirit unbroken. Her presence was a grounding force, a reminder of the resilience that ran through their veins. Thomas approached Polly, his footsteps deliberate and measured. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the heavy breathing of the men and the creak of the floorboards under his boots. He knelt beside her, his eyes searching her face for answers. The sight of her injury ignited another flash of anger, but he pushed it down, focusing on the task at hand.

“Polly… how far along is she?” His voice was low, a rumble that seemed to echo in the shattered room. His accent, thick and unmistakable, lent a weight to his words that demanded attention and respect.

Polly sighed, a sound filled with fatigue and frustration. She cleared her throat, her gaze steady as she met his eyes. “Thomas, she said she thinks she’s about a month along.”

Thomas felt a tightening in his chest, a mix of fear and determination. A month. It was so early, so precarious. He couldn’t let anything happen to her, to their child. His mind raced with plans and contingencies, each more ruthless than the last. There would be a reckoning, but first, he had to find her, to bring her back safely. Thomas sat at the head of the table, his piercing blue eyes fixed on a map spread out before him. His mind was a whirlwind of strategies and contingencies, every possible outcome calculated and re-calculated. John, Arthur, and Michael flanked him, their faces set in grim determination. Polly stood nearby, her presence a steadying force amidst the chaos. The house was a sanctuary, a place where plans were hatched and lives were decided, and tonight was no different. Hours had slipped by unnoticed, consumed by the relentless pace of their search. Thomas's people had been a constant lifeline, connecting him to a web of contacts and informants. His fingers tapped impatiently against the table, a rhythm that matched the frenetic pace of his thoughts. Each call, each lead, was a thread he pulled at, trying to unravel the mystery of his wife's kidnapping. She was his anchor, his beacon in the darkness, and the thought of her in danger was a knife twisting in his gut.

John paced the length of the room, his restlessness a stark contrast to Thomas's stillness. Arthur leaned against the wall, his hands clenching and unclenching as he fought to contain his frustration. Michael sat quietly, his eyes flicking between the others, absorbing their tension like a sponge. Polly moved about with purpose, her sharp eyes missing nothing, her presence a reminder of the strength and resilience that ran through their blood. The ring of the phone cut through the heavy silence, and all eyes turned to Thomas as he strode over to pick it up. The moment hung in the air, a heartbeat of expectation before Johnny Dogs' voice crackled through the receiver. Thomas's grip tightened, his knuckles white against the black of the phone. His breathing hitched for a moment, a flash of vulnerability that he quickly buried beneath a mask of steel resolve.

"Tom, I think we've found where she's at..." Johnny's voice was a lifeline, a thread of hope in the darkness.

Thomas exhaled sharply, his mind racing. "Where are they keeping her, eh?" His voice was a low growl, every syllable dripping with barely restrained fury.

"Epsom...his race track," Johnny replied, the words sending a jolt through Thomas. Epsom, the place was familiar, a playground for the rich and powerful, now a prison for his beloved.

A smile, cold and dangerous, curved Thomas's lips. "Get as much petrol as you can get your hands on..." he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. The plan was taking shape in his mind, a path of fire and blood that would lead him to her. He could already see the flames, smell the smoke, hear the screams of those who had dared to cross him.

As he hung up the phone, the room seemed to pulse with renewed energy. John stopped pacing, his eyes lighting up with a fierce determination. Arthur pushed off the wall, his muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike. Michael's expression hardened, his youthful face a mask of resolve. Polly nodded, her approval unspoken but clear in the set of her jaw.

"Right," Thomas began, his voice commanding the room's attention. "We move tonight. Get everything ready. We’re bringing 'er home." His eyes met each of theirs in turn, a silent vow that he would stop at nothing to rescue his wife.

The preparations began in earnest, the room a flurry of activity. Weapons were checked and rechecked, ammunition counted and distributed. Maps were consulted, routes planned with military precision. Thomas oversaw it all, his mind a whirlwind of logistics and strategy. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, sharpening his senses, fueling his resolve. His thoughts drifted to her, the image of her face a constant presence in his mind. She was only a month along, carrying their future within her, and the thought of her in danger made his blood boil. He remembered the way she smiled, the light in her eyes, the softness of her touch. Thomas's jaw clenched as he thought of the men who had taken her, his mind filled with visions of retribution. They had made a fatal mistake, one they would not live to regret. His reputation was built on ruthlessness, a legacy of violence and power that had shaped him into the man he was.

They would learn the hard way that no one touched what was his and lived to tell the tale. As the last preparations were made, Thomas took a moment to himself, stepping out into the cool night air. The stars were hidden behind a blanket of clouds, the moon a faint glow in the distance. He lit a cigarette, the familiar burn of the smoke a brief comfort. He thought of her again, his heart aching with the need to hold her, to see her safe and sound. The sound of footsteps drew his attention, and he turned to see Arthur approaching. His brother's face was a mirror of his own determination, a fierce loyalty burning in his eyes. They stood together in silence for a moment, the bond between them unspoken but unbreakable.

"We'll get 'er back, Tom," Arthur said, his voice a low rumble. "No matter what it takes."

The journey to Epsom was a blur of headlights and dark roads, the landscape rushing past in a haze of motion. Thomas sat in the driver's seat, his focus razor-sharp, his thoughts a relentless march of strategy and determination. His mind was a steel trap, allowing no room for doubt or fear. Beside him, his brothers John and Arthur, along with Michael, sat in silence, their shared resolve a palpable force. Each one of them was a cog in the well-oiled machine that Thomas had engineered for this night, their roles clear, their purpose unwavering. The moon cast an eerie glow over the countryside, the night cloaking the world in a shroud of darkness. The Epsom race track loomed in the distance, a shadowy fortress that held his world captive. Thomas's grip on the wheel tightened, his jaw set in a hard line. This was it, the moment of reckoning, the culmination of their relentless search. His heart pounded with a cold fury, the thought of his pregnant wife in the hands of their enemies fueling his every action.

As they neared their destination, the nighttime made the race track look more unforgiving, its skeletal structures silhouetted against the night sky. The vehicles rolled to a stop, engines cutting off in a symphony of finality. Thomas stepped out, the cool night air biting at his skin, the scent of petrol and determination thick in the air. He glanced at his brothers, their faces set in grim resolve, and nodded. It was time. Finn, Isaiah and his father, Johnny Dogs, and five families of the Lee's were already there, waiting in the shadows. The air was thick with anticipation, the tension a living, breathing entity. Thomas’s eyes swept over the assembled group, his expression hard, his blue eyes like shards of ice in the darkness. Each man here was ready to lay down his life for the cause, for the family, and Thomas felt the weight of that loyalty pressing down on him.

Thomas spoke, his voice a low, commanding growl that cut through the night. "You all will round up his men, find the ones that laid their hands on her and separate them from the rest; I'll deal with those personally." His words were met with nods of agreement, the resolve of the group solidifying around him like a fortress.

He turned to Johnny Dogs, who stood ready, a small, feral smile on his face. "How many cans of petrol did you get?" Thomas asked, his voice edged with a darkness that mirrored the night around them.

Johnny’s smile widened. "Enough to burn the whole world down, Tom."

Thomas nodded, satisfaction mingling with the cold rage that simmered just beneath his surface. He looked around at the men, their faces hard and determined. This was not just a rescue mission; it was a statement, a declaration of war. They would not leave this place without making it clear that no one touched a Shelby and lived to tell the tale. The night was alive with the sound of footsteps against the dirt, hushed voices, and the metallic click of weapons being checked and readied. Thomas moved among his men, his presence a steadying force, his commands clear and concise. He was the eye of the storm, the calm center around which the chaos would swirl. Every detail had been planned, every possibility accounted for. Now, it was just a matter of execution.

As they approached the entrance to the race track, Thomas's mind flashed back to the moment he had discovered his wife was missing. The rage he had felt then was nothing compared to what he felt now, standing on the brink of action. His love for her was a fierce, consuming fire, and the thought of her in danger had kindled a fury that would only be quenched by the blood of those who had dared to harm her. He signaled for his men to move into position, his movements precise and controlled. They spread out, slipping into the shadows, their figures blending seamlessly with the darkness. Thomas's eyes never stopped moving, scanning the area, assessing every potential threat. He felt the weight of the gun in his hand, the cold metal a comforting presence.

Inside the race track, the enemy was unaware of the storm about to descend upon them. Thomas knew they had the element of surprise, and he intended to use it to its fullest advantage. He glanced at John, who was crouched beside him, his face a mask of focused intensity. Arthur, John, Finn, Micheal and Isaiah were on other sides of the track; their positions strategically chosen to cover all exits. The first shots rang out, shattering the silence of the night. Thomas moved with a lethal grace, his every action deliberate and deadly. He saw his men engage the enemy, the flash of gunfire illuminating the darkness in brief, violent bursts. He pressed forward, his focus unerring, his goal clear. He would find her, and he would make them pay.

He caught sight of a group of men near the stables, their panicked movements betraying their fear. Thomas felt a grim satisfaction as he raised his gun, his shots precise and fatal. He moved through the chaos, his path cutting a swath of destruction, his mind a singular focus: get her back. His brothers fought alongside him, their loyalty and ferocity a testament to the bond they shared. Thomas reached the main building, kicking the door open with a force that splintered the wood. Inside, the dim light revealed a scene of chaos, men scrambling to defend themselves against the onslaught. He didn't hesitate, his movements a blur of calculated violence. He shot each of the men with ruthless efficiency, in the knees, making it nearly impossible for the to run. Thomas moved to one of the men on the floor whose moaning in pain, he grabbed him by his neck and forced him to look at him in his eyes, making him look his grim reaper in the eyes.

"I'm not done with y' yet'.." Thomas said his voice cold and calculated, he let go of his neck making him fall back against the floor on his back; the man let out another pained cry. His men would be back for them, to moved them to the front of the race track; to burn them.

The night air was thick with tension as Thomas Shelby navigated through the dimly lit stable area, his boots echoing against the cold, hard ground. The moon hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow that seeped through the cracks in the old wooden walls. His heart pounded with a fierce determination, each step bringing him closer to the back room where he hoped to find his wife. The sound of distant shouts and scuffles filtered through the air, but his focus remained unwavering. He was a man on a mission, a predator hunting in the dead of night, driven by the primal instinct to protect his own. As he approached the back room, a chilling sight greeted him. Blood stained the floor in dark, ominous patches, and drag marks indicated a struggle. A wave of cold fury washed over him. His hand clenched around the cold metal doorknob, twisting it with a deliberate force. The door swung open with a creak, and he swiftly stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room, clearing it with practiced precision. Moonlight streamed in, revealing a sight that made his heart clench: there she was, tied to a chair, her small frame illuminated by the pale glow. His wife looked up, her eyes wide with a mix of relief and fear. The sight of her, his angel, ignited a fire within him. He crossed the room in two long strides, his gun slipping back into his belt as he reached her. With deft fingers, he untied the ropes that bound her, and as soon as she was free, he pulled her into his arms. The embrace was fierce, protective, his hold on her unyielding. For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just them, their hearts beating in sync, a brief respite from the chaos.

"My angel, my sweet angel..." His voice was a gravelly whisper as he buried his face in her hair, inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume. It was a scent he had missed, one that grounded him in moments of turmoil. He pulled back slightly, cupping her face in his hands, his eyes scanning for any sign of injury. Small cuts marred her delicate skin, but they were minor, nothing that would cause lasting harm.

"Still as beautiful as when I last saw you," he murmured, a soft smile tugging at his lips before their mouths met in a desperate kiss. It was a kiss born of pain and longing, their lips moving with a frantic intensity. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, their tongues intertwining in a dance of raw emotion. When he finally broke the kiss, his forehead rested against hers, their breaths mingling. "I'm really going to be a father, eh?"

"You are..." Her smile was shy, yet filled with a warmth that soothed his soul.

Thomas brushed his thumb gently across her cheek, his touch tender. "Come on, let's get y' out of here, eh?" With ease, he lifted her into his arms, carrying her bridal style as he made his way back through the stables. The smell of blood and fear lingered in the air, but he paid it no mind. His focus was solely on her, his angel, safe in his arms.

As they emerged from the stables, the scene that greeted them was one of controlled chaos. John, Arthur, Michael, Finn, Isaiah, and his father, along with Johnny Dogs and the Lee families, were scattered around, unloading petrol cans. Blood stained their clothes, but it wasn’t their own. Thomas’s eyes flickered to the ground where the five men who had dared to touch his wife lay, their bodies broken and bleeding. He smirked, a dark satisfaction curling in his chest, before continuing to the car. He opened the passenger door and gently placed her inside, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "Stay here, love," he whispered, his voice soft but commanding. He closed the door with a firm click, turning to face the others.

The moon was obscured by thick clouds that mirrored the murky deeds about to unfold below. The racetrack lay eerily silent, the stillness broken only by the faint rustling of leaves in the wind. Thomas stood at the center of this storm, his sharp eyes surveying the scene. His mind was a whirlwind of anger and resolve, a tempest brewing behind his cold, piercing gaze. The scent of petrol hung heavily in the air, a harbinger of the destruction to come. John and Arthur flanked him, their faces set in grim determination. Michael, Finn, Isaiah, Johnny Dogs, and the Lee family members were scattered around, ready for the signal. The air was thick with tension, a tangible force that made every breath feel heavy. Thomas’s thoughts flickered to his wife, his angel and the way they tried to use her against him; that backfired on them horribly. A fire burned in his chest, fueled by the memory of her soft voice, her gentle touch. She was his sanctuary, and they had dared to violate it.

He strode over to the five men who were the source of his ire, their bodies already bruised and battered. His presence alone seemed to make them cower. “John, Arthur,” he called, his voice a low growl. The two brothers stepped forward, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. “I want you to move them to the front, lean them against the walls, and soak em' in petrol.” His smile was a chilling contrast to the rage in his eyes. “If you don’t, you’ll join them as well.”

Arthur nodded, a savage grin spreading across his face. “We were going to burn em' anyway, no need to tell us.”

“Good,” Thomas replied, his tone curt. He cast a glance back at the car where his wife sat, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and understanding. She knew what was coming. She knew Thomas would not let their transgression go unpunished.

The men moved swiftly, dragging the nearly lifeless bodies to the designated spot. Petrol cans were upended, the liquid splashing onto the walls, seeping into the ground. The acrid smell grew stronger, mingling with the scent of fear emanating from the men. They were too weak to struggle, too broken to plead for mercy. Their fate was sealed the moment they had laid hands on Thomas Shelby’s wife.

It took almost an hour for the entire place to be doused in petrol, every room, every corner soaked in the flammable liquid. The task would have taken much longer if not for the combined efforts of the Shelby brothers and their allies. Thomas watched, his expression unreadable, as the preparations were completed. The fire within him mirrored the impending inferno, both consuming everything in their path. Thomas reached into his coat and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a practiced flick of his lighter. The flame briefly illuminated his face, casting shadows that danced across his features. Around him, the others followed suit, those who smoked taking a moment to savor the calm before the storm. They stood in a loose semicircle, the flickering embers of their cigarettes the only light in the encroaching darkness.

The men who had dared to harm his wife were propped against the walls, their eyes darting around in a futile search for escape. Thomas stepped forward, his gaze boring into them. “Let the world burn,” he said, his voice carrying a finality that sent a shiver down the spines of everyone present.

As one, they stepped back and threw their lit cigarettes into the building. The effect was immediate and devastating. Flames erupted, racing along the trails of petrol with a voracious hunger. The night was transformed into a hellscape of red, orange, and yellow, the heat searing the air. Screams of agony pierced the night as Sabini’s men were consumed by the fire, their bodies writhing in a futile attempt to escape the flames. Thomas watched with a detached satisfaction, his face bathed in the glow of the inferno. Each scream was a note in a symphony of retribution, each flicker of flame a testament to his resolve. The men’s knees had been blown out earlier, ensuring they could not flee. Now, they were prisoners of their own fate, their arms dislocated to prevent even the slightest chance of escape. The fire roared, its fury unchecked, devouring the building and everything within. The sounds of collapsing timbers and shattering glass added to the cacophony, a fitting accompaniment to the demise of those who had crossed Thomas Shelby. He turned away, his mind already moving to the next step, the next plan. There was always another move to make, another battle to fight.

Walking briskly yet purposefully, Thomas made his way back to the car. His footsteps were steady on the gravel, the sound swallowed by the roar of the fire behind him. He opened the door, the heat from the blaze momentarily flooding the car before he slid in beside her. The interior was a haven of calm, a stark contrast to the inferno outside. His wife’s eyes, wide and searching, locked onto his, seeking the reassurance only he could provide.

“It’s done,” he said, his voice low and steady, a soft rumble in the confined space. He took her small hand in his, his grip firm yet comforting. “They won’t ever hurt you again.”

She exhaled, a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, and a flicker of relief crossed her delicate features. Thomas watched her, his heart a fortress against the world’s cruelty but a haven for her. He released her hand, his own moving to cup her face. His thumb brushed against her cheek, the simple touch conveying a world of unspoken promises. He leaned in, their lips meeting in a kiss that was both a balm and a blaze, a mixture of passion and unspoken love. His kiss deepened, his tongue seeking hers with a fervor that spoke of his desperation to connect, to reaffirm their bond in the midst of chaos. She responded in kind, her own need mirroring his. Their tongues danced, entwining in a symphony of shared breath and mutual desire. The kiss stretched on, each second a testament to their unbreakable connection. When he finally broke away, it was only to gaze into her eyes, his blue piercing eyes and intense, meeting her soft, doe-like gaze.

“I'd let the world burn, let the world burn for you,” he whispered, the words a vow etched in the air between them.

The fire outside continued to rage, a testament to the violence and power that defined Thomas. But here, in the car with his wife, he was just a man, deeply in love and fiercely protective. He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her skin. The night outside was a battlefield, but inside this car, it was a sanctuary of their own making.

“Y’alright, love?” he asked softly, his accent thick, the concern in his voice palpable. She nodded, placing her hand over his, their fingers intertwining over the life they had created. It was a silent affirmation, a shared resolve to face whatever came next together.

The drive back to their home was quiet, the night around them a shroud of darkness punctuated by the distant glow of the fire. Thomas drove with one hand on the wheel, the other holding hers. The road ahead was uncertain, filled with dangers and challenges, but as long as they were together, he felt invincible. His mind raced with plans and contingencies, each one centered around ensuring their safety. His wife rested her head against his shoulder, the gentle rise and fall of her breathing a soothing rhythm. Thomas glanced at her, his heart swelling with a love so profound it bordered on pain. He had built an empire, forged a legacy in blood and fire, but she was his greatest treasure. The thought of losing her, of anything happening to her or their child, was a fear that gnawed at the edges of his mind. He pushed it aside, focusing instead on the warmth of her presence, the steady beat of her heart against his arm.

As they neared their home, the familiar sights of Small Heath came into view, but they weren't home yet; they drove till they were on the outskirts. It was quiet, the sun was starting to come up; Thomas parked the car and turned to her, his expression softening. “We’re home,” he said, the words a balm to the tension that still lingered. She smiled, a small, tired smile that spoke of her own relief.

Inside their home, the world outside seemed a distant memory. Thomas helped her out of the car, his arm around her waist as they made their way to the door. The night had been long and exhausting, but the sight of their home brought a sense of peace. He closed the door behind them, shutting out the chaos and danger, if only for a while. They moved through the house in silence, the weight of the night’s events pressing down on them. Thomas led her to their bedroom, helping her undress and settle into bed. He watched her as she drifted off to sleep, her face serene and untroubled. For a moment, he allowed himself to simply be, to let go of the burdens that constantly weighed on him.

But sleep would not come easily. Thomas stood by the window, staring out into the darkness, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and plans. He knew the road ahead would be fraught with danger, that the enemies they had made would not rest until they were destroyed. But as long as he had her, as long as he had their child, he would fight with everything he had. He turned back to the bed, his eyes softening as he looked at her. She was his anchor, his reason for everything. Thomas undressed quietly, slipping into bed beside her. He pulled her close, the warmth of her body a comfort against the cold reality of their world. He kissed her forehead, a silent vow to protect and cherish her, no matter the cost.

As he lay there, his mind finally began to quiet. The night’s events would leave scars, but they would also strengthen the resolve he had to keep his family safe. He closed his eyes, the sound of her breathing lulling him into a fitful sleep. The fire outside might rage, but here, in their bed, there was peace, if only for a moment. Thomas knew that the battles would continue, that the fight for their survival was far from over. But with her by his side, he felt a glimmer of hope, a spark of light in the darkness. He tightened his hold on her, his heart a silent promise to never let go. In the midst of chaos, she was his sanctuary, his angel in a world of shadows. And as sleep finally claimed him, Thomas dreamed not of fires and battles, but of a future where they could find peace, a future where their child could grow up safe and loved. It was a dream worth fighting for, a dream worth burning the world down to protect.

Authors Notes:

Don't worry the three asks are being worked on, I just wanted to get this one out because I haven't seen anyone do this song yet or they have and I haven't seen it. But I wanted to do a Jonathan one, because he's fucking mental about his lover but idk it wouldn't click.

Have any idea's please hit me up!!! Love you all xoxo

[whirligig-girl]

(zoom in!)

Two double-headers on the Trans-Gooiw Railroad passing each other in the hills, dragging long freight trains behind them, during the early days of the Pan-Mellanus Oil Crisis.

More mellanoid trains: Guz's Model Garratt | Museum-piece carrying rocket parts | Advanced Steam Tank Engine | Guz's bigger model Garratt | Tram and Coal Mine loco sketches.

The diesel-hydraulic at the front of the foreground consist, already somewhat old and tired by this point, dates back to around the time period that steam engines were originally retired on Mellanus. It's not very fuel efficient as it is, and with the oil rations, diesels can not handle the trains on their own any longer.

For a few years now the railroads have been taking their steam engines out of mothballs and museums, as coal was comparatively dirt-cheap. Still though, the various maintenance and operational complexities of running steam locomotives resulted in a lot of losses for the railroads.

Pictured here behind the diesel is an early attempt at the Advanced Steam Engine concept, modifying a member of a very prolific and successful 2-8-0+0-8-2 Garratt class with a gas producer combustion system, more modern cylinders and valve gear, and entirely replacing the cab with an electronic control system (with the more diesel-like control stands moved to separate cabs on the tenders). The electronic control scheme allows for the steam engine to be connected to a diesel engine to be run as a multiple unit, cutting down operational costs. However, as a modified prototype, this locomotive lacks some of the other features which exemplified the Advanced Steam era, such as modular ashpans, computerized control, and precision engineering.

On the other track, moving the opposite direction, we see a double header of two steam locomotives, another 2-8-0+0-8-2 loaned from the Slaibsgloth Coal Mine Railroad, and a 2-10-2 'easy' type non-articulated loco leads the train. In this case, there is no electronic connection, so a crew of four mellanoid slimes is necessary to operate the train.

The eagle-eyed railway fans will notice that there are radiators for a dynamic brake on the diesel, yet the diesel is an electric. Diesel-electric dynamic brakes switch the traction motors into generators, and dump the electricity out as waste heat--but there's no traction motors on a hydraulic. So why the radiator fins? There's still a dynamic engine brake on the diesel-hydraulic, so it still needs to be able to dissipate heat, especially on the mountain routes.

WIP images follow:

[nayziiz]

Speed | CS55

Summary: In a chance encounter at a gas station, a mysterious woman on a Yamaha YZF R6 catches the attention of Carlos, a charming Ferrari driver. Little did they know the journey they would both go on.

Warning: Smut, fluff

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x OC (Lola)

Masterlist

Chapter 1

As she stood there, the thrumming pulse of the Ferrari reverberated through the asphalt, sending subtle vibrations up through the soles of her shoes. It was a sensory experience, feeling the raw power of the sports car resonate in the ground beneath her, almost as if it were alive.

Impulsively, she turned her head to the side, her curiosity piqued by the familiar rumble. Her gaze landed on the sleek lines of the Ferrari, its glossy exterior catching the sunlight in a dazzling display. And there, behind the wheel, was a figure that exuded an air of confidence and charisma.

The Spaniard seemed engrossed in inspecting her motorcycle, his keen eyes scanning over every detail with a discerning gaze. It was a moment of unexpected connection, two individuals brought together by their mutual appreciation for the machines they rode.

With a casual wave, she acknowledged his presence, the gesture a simple yet genuine expression of goodwill. In that moment, she didn't dwell on the significance of the encounter, merely allowing herself to be swept up in the rhythm of the city streets.

As the light finally shifted to green, she smoothly accelerated, the engine of her motorcycle roaring to life as she merged onto the highway. Unbeknownst to her, Carlos, drawn by the allure of the chase, followed suit, his Ferrari seamlessly blending into the flow of traffic as he pursued her.

What ensued was a thrilling game of cat and mouse, each manoeuvring through lanes with precision and skill, their vehicles dancing in harmony with the rhythm of the road. With every twist and turn, they pushed the limits of speed and control, the adrenaline coursing through their veins fueling their determination.

In her mirrors, she caught glimpses of the sleek Ferrari gaining ground, the distance between them shrinking with each passing moment. It was an exhilarating pursuit, the thrill of the chase igniting a competitive fire within her.

And then, in a daring move, Carlos surged ahead, the Ferrari darting past her with effortless grace. In that moment, a surge of determination washed over her, igniting a fierce resolve to reclaim the lead.

With unwavering focus, she pushed her motorcycle to its limits, the wind whipping against her as she chased after him, the highway stretching out before them like an endless ribbon of asphalt.

After a heart-pounding ten-minute exchange of speed and strategy, she made the split-second decision to veer off the highway, her sights set on the nearest gas station. It was a calculated move, a chance to catch her breath and regroup after the exhilarating pursuit.

As Carlos pursued her off the highway, the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins was unlike anything he had experienced on the racetrack. As a seasoned Formula 1 driver, he was accustomed to the thrill of high-speed races, the precision of every turn and manoeuvre ingrained in his muscle memory.

But this... this was different. The chase, the unpredictability, the sheer exhilaration of the moment stirred something deep within him, reigniting a passion that had lain dormant for far too long. Behind the wheel of his Ferrari, he felt alive, every twist and turn of the road awakening his senses in a way that no race ever could.

Gone was the familiar routine of the racetrack, replaced instead by the raw excitement of the open road. Here, there were no rules, no boundaries—just the exhilarating rush of speed and the thrill of the chase.

As he followed her into the unknown, a sense of liberation washed over him, the weight of expectations and obligations fading into the background. In this moment, there was only him, the road, and the enigmatic figure ahead—a tantalising mystery waiting to be unravelled.

For Carlos, this impromptu pursuit was a welcome departure from the structured world of Formula 1, a reminder of the pure joy that came from simply letting go and embracing the thrill of the ride.

As she sat astride her motorcycle, preparing to refuel, the familiar hum of the gas station's pumps reverberated through the ground beneath her. Turning slightly, she caught sight of the sleek Ferrari gliding into the station, pulling up to the pump behind her with a quiet confidence.

With practised ease, she dismounted her bike, the rumble of the engine fading into the background as she focused on the task at hand. As she began to pump gas into her tank, she felt his eyes on her, the weight of his gaze lingering like a tangible presence.

Carlos, unable to resist the magnetic pull of curiosity, stepped out of his Ferrari, his movements graceful and deliberate. Though he tried to appear nonchalant, his stolen glances betrayed a deep-seated intrigue, an unspoken desire to learn more about the enigmatic figure before him.

As she continued with the task of refuelling, she sensed his presence lingering nearby, his gaze never straying far from her. And then, in a moment of quiet confidence, she reached up and removed her helmet, revealing the face that had captured his attention.

With a fluid motion, she released her two plaits from beneath her jacket, the cascading strands of hair framing her features like a halo in the soft light of the gas station. It was a simple gesture, yet it spoke volumes—revealing not just her physical appearance, but also a glimpse of the person behind the helmet, the individual beneath the facade.

A playful smirk tugged at the corners of her lips as she casually placed her helmet on the seat of her motorcycle, her gaze meeting Carlos's with a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes.

“Hey.” She greeted him, the word laced with an easygoing charm that seemed to dissolve the tension between them.

“Hey.” He replied, his voice soft, almost tentative, as he returned her greeting with a shy smile, his eyes lingering on her with a mixture of curiosity and admiration.

A comfortable silence settled between them for a moment, the air tinged with a palpable sense of anticipation. And then, with a casual observation, she broke the ice, her words light and playful.

“Nice car.” She remarked, nodding towards the sleek Ferrari parked behind him, her tone casual yet appreciative.

Carlos's smile widened at her compliment, a faint blush colouring his cheeks as he returned the gesture.

“Nice bike.” He countered, his eyes flickering briefly to the motorcycle beside her with genuine admiration.

With the teasing glint in her eyes, she extended an invitation that hung in the air like an irresistible dare.

“I could take you for a ride.” She teased, her words laced with a playful challenge that dared him to seize the opportunity for adventure.

Carlos chuckled at her teasing remark, a warm smile gracing his lips as he shook his head lightly.

“I'm happy with my four wheels.” He replied, his tone light and playful, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

She chuckled in response, her laughter a melodic sound that filled the air between them with a sense of camaraderie.

“Too bad, then.” She teased, her words carrying a playful undertone as she finished pumping gas into her motorcycle.

As she replaced the nozzle and secured the gas cap, the moment lingered, suspended in the air like a shared secret between them.

Carlos's curiosity piqued as he took a step closer, his eyes scanning over the sleek lines of her motorcycle with genuine interest.

“What type of bike is it?” He wondered aloud, his curiosity evident in the way he lingered over each detail.

Her heart skipped a beat at the unexpected question, a flush of flustered surprise colouring her cheeks as she fumbled for an answer.

“Oh, this is a Yamaha YZF R6.” She replied, her voice slightly breathless as she struggled to compose herself in the face of his scrutiny. Carlos chuckled at her response, a knowing glint in his eyes as he took in the information.

“Sounds fast.” He remarked with a playful grin, his admiration for her motorcycle evident in his tone.

As he stepped closer to inspect her all-black motorbike, she couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at his genuine interest. It was a rare moment of connection, a shared appreciation for the machines that fueled their passion for the open road.

“I wasn't expecting to see a Ferrari Roma today.” He stated, changing the subject as she removed her gloves, the gesture a subtle invitation to continue their conversation.

Carlos's bafflement at the woman's unexpected knowledge of cars was evident in his tone as he posed the question.

“You know cars, too?” He asked, his curiosity tinged with a hint of admiration for the intellectually captivating woman dressed in full riding gear.

“I like pretty things.” She countered, her words carrying a hint of mystery that only served to deepen Carlos's curiosity. She responded with a sly smile, her eyes sparkling with playful mischief as she offered a simple yet intriguing explanation.

His laughter filled the air, a warm and genuine sound that echoed in the space between them.

“Good to know.” He replied with a grin, his amusement evident as he marvelled at the enigmatic woman before him.

A comfortable silence settled between them for a moment, the air charged with unspoken tension as they lingered in the aftermath of their playful banter. And then, with a boldness that surprised even himself, he seized the opportunity to extend an invitation of his own.

“You don't perhaps fancy going for dinner sometime to tell me more about your... Yamaha XYZ?” He proposed, his tone teasing yet genuine as he met her gaze with a mixture of anticipation and curiosity.

“YZF R6.” She corrected him with a breathy chuckle, her amusement evident as she clarified the name of her motorcycle. Carlos chuckled in response, his tone light and teasing as he acknowledged his lack of knowledge.

“Precisely. I have so much to learn.” He teased, his eyes dancing with playful banter.

But she wasn't one to back down from a challenge, and with a quick-witted retort, she turned the tables on him.

“Depends. Will the nameless man with the Ferrari pick me up too?” She countered, her words laced with a hint of mischief as she playfully tested his manners. Carlos, caught off guard by her boldness, felt a flush of embarrassment colour his cheeks at his oversight.

“The man with the Ferrari most certainly can. His name is Carlos.” He replied, determined to make amends for his earlier oversight. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she met his gaze, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Well, Carlos, it sounds like you have a date with Lola.” She remarked with a playful grin, her tone light and inviting.

“Lola?” Carlos repeated, a note of curiosity in his voice as he echoed the name she had given him.

“Technically, it's Louise, but everyone calls me Lola.” She explained, her smile widening at the revelation. Carlos nodded as he retrieved his phone from his pocket and handed it to her.

“Your number, please, Miss Lola.” He insisted.

Carlos's insistence drew a warm smile from Lola as she typed her number into his phone, taking a moment to add a playful touch by including the full descriptor of her bike beside her name. With a chuckle, Carlos accepted his phone back, the corners of his lips perking up at her playful gesture.

“Now you have to remember what kind of bike I ride.” She joked, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she watched him lock his screen and tuck the phone away in his pocket.

“It was lovely meeting you, Lola.” Carlos greeted her warmly, his voice tinged with genuine sincerity. “I'd love to stay and chat, but I need to get to a meeting.”

“Nice meeting you too, Carlos.” Lola nodded in acknowledgment, her smile lingering as she watched him climb into his Ferrari.

With a wink, he pulled out from behind her, the sleek sports car purring to life as it rolled past her, leaving her with a sense of anticipation for the adventure that lay ahead.

[robin-evry]

Maybe some demigod yuu who is child of Poseidon as well?

Sure thing, ask and you shall receive

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈 𝐆𝐎𝐃 ( 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐍 ) 🐚🌊

A demigod is a part-human and part-divine offspring of a deity and a human, or a human or non-human creature that is accorded divine status after death, or someone who has attained the "divine spark".

Demi god Yuu exudes an aura of serenity, much like the ocean on a calm day. However, there's an undeniable sense of authority about them, and when they speak, people instinctively listen. They rarely raise their voice but don’t need to; their calm composure commands attention.

They are calm and observant as well laid back and possess a strong ideal of Justice. They are described to be elegant but yet can be intimidating when faced with their wrath. Known for their adaptability, during tough situations they will always find a way out or a way to solve it.

They possessed a connection towards the ocean, they often spend their free time near water. Whether it's a lake, river, or even a fountain on the school grounds, water seems to calm them. They sometimes unconsciously manipulate water around them, causing ripples or small waves.

In their free time, you can find them fascinated by aquatic creatures, before going to NRC, they originally planned on being a marine biologist. You can find them in the library reading an encyclopedia about aquatic creatures.

Has the ability to command and control every sea creature, as well as hearing and understanding them. During their first meeting with azul and the twins, they immediately know they are fish men. Many fish men students feel having some connection towards demigod-yuu, every time demigod!yuu ask them to do something, they immediately do it as it was a command or part of their instinct

Inside the mostro lounge, every time they visit the cafe, the fish inside the cafe seems to follow them every foot step, and you can find Demi-God!yuu seem to be talking to them as well every time they release a bubble of air like having a full blown conversation.

Demi-God Yuu has an inherent need for freedom, just like the sea. They despise feeling confined or restricted, both physically and emotionally. Rules and boundaries frustrate them, and they prefer to live life at their own pace. This can sometimes put them at odds with more rigid personalities, like Riddle’s or Vil’s, but they’re skilled at finding ways to bend rules without outright breaking them.

Demi-God Yuu has a quiet rivalry with Riddle due to their vastly different temperaments and leadership styles. Riddle’s strict adherence to rules contrasts with demigod-yuu belief in flowing with the current and adapting to situations. While they respect each other’s power, Riddle finds them calm, almost detached demeanor infuriating at times. In turn, they believe Riddle could benefit from relaxing and letting go of control more often.

Demi-God Yuu shares a close bond with Grim, often encouraging him to embrace his magical potential. They create small water games or challenges for Grim, helping him learn how to control his abilities while having fun together as well if he ever there to catch something on fire they will be there to extinguish it.

Being the child of Poseidon, they have limitless potential to manipulate water or liquefied substances ( this includes ice, gas or any substance that involves water )

They can summon water from thin air, even in environments where no natural water sources are present. The summoned water is often drawn from moisture in the atmosphere or created from their divine energy. They use this ability for offensive and defensive purposes, creating water whips, barriers, or projectiles as well to manipulate with precision that they can shape it into any forms, such as weapons (tridents, swords, spears), shields, or even delicate artistic designs. They use this ability to create functional tools during battle, like water-based chains to bind opponents, a temporary water shield to block attacks or create an army of water knights to fight off. As well to breathe in water having the ability to stay on water for long periods of time.

With the power of Poseidon flowing through them, Yuu can summon aquatic creatures—both mythical and real—from the ocean to assist them. This includes sea serpents, krakens, and large schools of fish or dolphins.

Due to their deep connection towards water, their emotions are tied to the weather, whenever they feel displeased or any negative emotion scaling on which one, rain will appear the stronger the negative emotions are the stronger the rain.

They can change their form using water, by using large bodies of water they can be the same size of a titan or as well use this ability to dodge attacks by making their body water making it impossible to damage.

Demi-God Yuu also has a natural ability to heal or enhance others using water. Whether it’s minor cuts or something fatal, they can use water to heal people spiritually as well physically.

They wear a trident-shaped accessory, symbolizing their connection to their godly parent in their uniform, that can be turned into a Trident in any dire situation where they need a weapon.

Demi-God Yuu has a small, magically summoned sea turtle named “Aqua,” who follows them around in the dorm. Aqua often rests on Yuu’s shoulder and is known for its playful personality. The turtle can also transform into a larger size when Yuu needs help in the water or to work as a form of transportation.

Demi-God Yuu has a unique fashion sense inspired by ocean themes as well sea creatures. They often wear flowing fabrics that mimic waves or colors resembling the ocean at different times of the day—deep blues, shimmering silvers, and vibrant corals. They sometimes incorporate shells, pearls, or other oceanic accessories into their outfits.

They will always be seen visiting Octavinelle dorm to visit mostro lounge to talk with the animals, sitting at a booth near the aquarium with their drink order is always to find a way to comfort them, they are also considered to be a regular at the cafe.

They collects unique seashells from different locations and has a special shelf in their dorm dedicated to displaying them. Each shell has a story or memory associated with it using magic each seashell will be entrapped with a special memory of them like a video on recording, this is also a way demigod!yuu give gifts. Giving them a special sea shell with a preserve memory they have with the person they're giving it.

Talented at singing, their singing is similar to a siren, alluring as well as relaxing this talent Can be used to hypnotize as well to let their enemies guard down.

Demi-God Yuu has transformed Ramshackle into a mini-ocean oasis, featuring decorations like seashells, coral, and water-themed artwork. They hang shimmering blue curtains that mimic ocean waves and use soft, flowing fabrics to give the room a beachy vibe.

They also have built a pool behind the dorm, where they will host pool parties during weekends as a way for their friends to relax after a long week of school. Originally the first years were the only ones that would attend but soon everyone started to attend to relax.

Absolutely hates scarabia dorms for being in the desert, no offense to kalim and Jamil it's just that the dessert is one place they rather avoid due to the lack of water inside the environment.

Inside their room holds a music box singing the songs of every fish or aquatic creature in the ocean that was given to them by their father whenever they miss being in the ocean, during times when life become too hard for them to deal with, they will play the music box to remind them of their father.

Part of the equestrian club if you think of it, aquatic creatures aren't the only thing they are connected to surprisingly, horses. They have a deep connection to their horse name kelpie. One of the best of them all.

Octavinelle trio originally is planning on trapping them but they are ALWAYS two steps ahead knowing their plan before hand, due to them being a fisherman, demigod!yuu understand everything they said and thought.

As well a master at the arts, Demi-God Yuu is an incredible artist as well a talent to sculpting, able to build large palace sandcastles in a few minutes. If anyone ever asks how they do it, they will get a simple answer no.

One of their favorite hobbies is to collect corals and seashells, their room is decorated with sea shells around the wall as well as a jelly fish lamp around the dorm.

[inconveniently-discorporated]

I feel like Crowley and Aziraphale are both about The Pleasures, but in similar and yet different ways.

Aziraphale's enjoyment is obvious -- he loves the food, he loves the drinks, he loves collecting physical things that remind him of things he enjoys. I think that these things are all more about the physical experience of them -- he enjoys cake because it physically tastes good, he enjoys hot cocoa because it does all those things Jimbriel talked about.

He turned his psychological safe space (Crowley) into his literal physical safe space (red & yellow bookshop -- *shiver*). He loves his clothes and they make him feel safe. He physically takes care of his clothes and maintains them, rather than making them appear out of the ether or cheating his way out of a stain.

Crowley is similar, but I think it's more conceptual for him.

He doesn't reject food -- we see him eating popcorn at the movies -- but I think it's more about the experience than it is the popcorn itself. Popcorn is an essential part of the experience, thus he has it. And speaking of movies, he's canonically heavily involved in media -- he enjoys partaking in, shaping, sharing the story of the human experience.

He doesn't reject worldly items, but the few he has seem to have deep emotional meaning to him. He has plants, living symbols of his pride, a physical metaphor for working through what happened to him. Otherwise, it's what's "cool". His apartment changes with the times, because it's not about how that specific stuff makes him feel, it's about the experience of staying in the modern era. Same with his clothes -- it's not about the exact outfit, it's how the outfit contributes to his experience of the world and his persona.

The Bentley is similar, though it is one physically object that he hasn't traded up through the years. I do wonder -- if Aziraphale had the Bentley, would it go a hundred years without needing gas, or would he be filling up every so often and dutifully maintaining every routine precisely on schedule? Even though it's a physical object, it still represents to Crowley the experience of being in control, and the physical maintenance of the object isn't really that important to him.

Drinking is especially curious to explore. They both like to do it, but Aziraphale seems to have very particular tastes. I think they both have their favorites, but it seems to me the drinking tends to be about the physical experience of doing it for Aziraphale, while for Crowley it tends to be about the emotional experience of altering one's mind and the method isn't particularly important.

I suspect physical affection might be the same way. I think physical touch is very important to Aziraphale because it feels good -- he likes putting his hands on Crowley, he likes staring and admiring his physical form, he likes dancing and moving to the music with him. I don't think Crowley would need it in quite the same way. I think it would be part of the experience of being in a relationship (e.g., he would like that it makes Aziraphale happy, he understands at the end of S2 the message he is conveying with the kiss) but I think the experience of their emotional exchange ("I say something brilliant, he says something unintentionally funny back. It's great!") creates that same feeling of closeness.

What might also be interesting is how those things look compared to their respective backgrounds.

Heaven is and always has been empty and devoid of things. The supreme Archangel doesn't even have a desk. It's all about the experience of being an angel, knowing one's place in the hierarchy, performing one's role. Gabriel likes the clothes because they make him feel more powerful and we can see that when he's being demoted from the position and he asks about his clothes.

Hell, by contrast, is cluttered and full of things. Things that are broken, things that don't belong, too many things that are just crowded and awful and everywhere. Everyone is someone's boss, everyone is someone's underling, and even orders from Beelzebub can't muster up more than a few dozen demons for Shax out of the millions of demons that are always loitering everywhere. Even a Duke of Hell has to stand by a leaky pipe with a bucket, his status means nothing.

On the flip side, Aziraphale's status as an angel means permanence. He has only ever known Heaven, and he has only ever known one side of Heaven (which is that you don't ask questions or you get in trouble -- he knew this before even Crowley did). I can see why he would find comfort in permanent things, like maintaining physical possessions that don't just up and change.

Crowley's experience as a demon sees that nothing is permanent, and everything can be taken away from you in an instant. You might be an esteemed usher at a trial, but you could still find yourself tossed in a tub of holy water on a whim. Here and now is the only guarantee. Your thoughts are the only things that you really have (though it will be interesting to see if an angelic memory wipe ever comes into play and what that means -- but I suspect it would make his thoughts and experiences even more precious for him to hang onto). He had his identity ripped away from him, of course his emotional identity is important to him now.

Overall, they both enjoy the world in very similar ways, but for Aziraphale I think it's based more in the physical emotion of the thing, and for Crowley the conceptual emotion of the thing. There's a lot of overlap (there's aspects of both physical/conceptual in his they both enjoy things) but that's them in general -- a little bit of each other in both of their personalities.

[carnal-lnstinct]

✿✿✿

pairing: sesshomaru x human!reader content: established relationship, domestic fluff, humor, slightly ooc sesshomaru: eating human food A/N: I found my old sesshomaru rp blog and got inspired to write this. Also didn't proofread this so fingers crossed.

The soft sound of a crack and annoyed grunt that followed brought your eyes up from your bowl just in time to see two bits of broken chopsticks fall to the floor from his hand. His brows were tense, the squint of golden eyes cursing the flimsy workmanship of tools, all tools by default, made by human hands. His hold was careful, delicate, and precise in maintaining an acceptable grip on the tools, yet a small adjustment between his fingers and clawed digits had snapped through yet another pair of chopsticks. They are perfectly adequate for humble village folk who made do with them, but for a powerful youkai like himself more comfortable with the luxury of those fitted for his hands, these may as well have been twigs pinned by carriage wheels– Exercising restraint or no.

That annoyed look on his face said it all for you and you purse your lips to stifle a soft titter, trying to hold your own food in your mouth while you chewed. Sesshomaru’s stare then finds you, the daiyoukai setting down the bowl of cooked meat from his other hand and letting the remaining pieces of chopsticks fall before him.

He was one whose presence you allied with mastered grace and control, yet witnessing him struggle to even hold human chopsticks in his hands without breaking them forced an amused smile on your face. Endearing him all the more in your graces. You love every chance you get to see that dignified composure break and learn about these tiny flaws of his. Sesshomaru was someone you could describe as nothing less than beautiful perfection in this world, especially compared to the likes of a human like yourself. Without much guidance or thought, you held him on a pedestal but when moments like this happen you learn that even a regal creature like himself could be relatable. His stubbornness to prove himself never failed to expose who he was behind his title and eminence. A man, like any other, who every once in a while deserves a private moment of being his honest self. You just wish it lasted longer, but his pride in his heritage would not allow him to be as such for more than a passing moment.   

It’s not his fault his powerful claws could do such a thing without even trying, it couldn’t be helped. But it’s his determination to dine with his wife in her human village, to try and try again despite a repeat performance of broken pair after broken pair. It spoke highly of the restraint he must truly hold himself to when those same claws brush over your skin and you press yourself into them with complete faith. 

“You find this amusing?” He dryly delivered to your ears only making your smile widen.

“Not at your expense, My Lord.” You uttered in an airy tone with your eyes lowered from him, trying not to allow a laugh to slip. You can feel the sear of his glare and hesitate to make eye contact, only to give yourself time to compose before the urge to laugh takes over. You set down your own bowl and reach for his, gathering a saucy, rare cut of meat. “I can look into having a special pair fashioned for you.” Maybe Master Totosai would help? If you asked nicely, but maybe humble chopsticks fit for a demon would belittle the blacksmith’s skills. It’s not like you can just waltz up to any other demon, let alone make such a trifle of a request. You’ll run it by Jaken to see if he can be of assistance

You let the last bit of juice drip from the helping before lifting it up toward Sesshomaru, looking up at him expectantly. 

“I am not concerned with this.” Sesshomaru answers, composure restored as he ran a hand through his hair, loosely tucking it back behind his ear and tossing the length over his shoulder. He closes his eyes, a quiet sigh falling from his nose and he leans forward with an open mouth gathering the helping from the end of your chopsticks.

“Shall I continue to feed you, then?” You insisted in a lighthearted tease with an arch brow

“...” His brows narrowed as he chewed, keeping his eyes closed as he did. You smiled lovingly.

“It would be no trouble at all.” 

He reopens his eyes and looks at you, glare softened. Safe to assume how you would go about this little chore you encouraged piqued his curiosity. When his mouth stills and throat softly bobs, he answers.

“Do as you like.”

[illumins]

𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞—𝑙. 𝑗𝑒𝑛𝑜 (#⁰³)

✦trope: fluff?, street racer

✧first pov

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The engine roared beneath us, a feral beast ready to be unleashed. I gripped the edge of my seat, the leather cool and comforting against my palms. The car was a marvel of engineering, every inch of it designed for speed, power, and precision. The dashboard glowed with an array of lights and dials, each one an indicator of the vehicle's immense capabilities. The hum of the engine was a deep, resonant purr, vibrating through the frame and into my very bones.

Jeno sat beside me, his hands lightly draped over the steering wheel. His fingers tapped a rhythm on the leather, a cadence of confidence and control. He turned to me, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His eyes, sharp and focused, glinted with mischief and excitement.

"You ready for this?" he asked, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down my spine. I nodded, swallowing hard, trying to match his easy bravado. The street ahead of us stretched out, a ribbon of asphalt lined with eager spectators and rival cars. The air was thick with the scent of burning rubber and gasoline, a heady mix that quickened my pulse.

The countdown began, numbers flashing on a massive screen above the start line. Jeno's foot hovered over the gas pedal, his body tensed like a coiled spring. He glanced at me again, his smile widening. "Hold on tight," he said, and with a deafening roar, we were off.

The car surged forward, thrusting me back into the seat with a force that stole my breath. The tires screeched against the pavement, a high-pitched wail that echoed in my ears. Jeno's grip on the wheel tightened, his knuckles white against the black leather. The world outside blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes, the streetlights and buildings whipping past in a dizzying rush.

Jeno navigated the first turn with a deft flick of his wrist, the car hugging the curve with a grace that belied its speed. I could feel the G-forces pulling at my body, pressing me into the seat. The sensation was both exhilarating and terrifying, a thrilling dance with danger. Jeno glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, his smile never wavering. "You okay?" he shouted over the roar of the engine.

I nodded, unable to form words. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a thunderous drum. The road ahead was a twisting, turning maze, but Jeno handled it with an ease that spoke of countless hours behind the wheel. He shifted gears with a smooth, practiced motion, the car responding instantly to his commands.

As we barreled down a straightaway, Jeno took a moment to glance at me, his eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and concern. "You're doing great," he said, his voice warm and reassuring. "Just keep breathing."

I forced myself to inhale deeply, the cool air filling my lungs and steadying my nerves. The vibration of the engine was a constant undercurrent, a reminder of the raw power at our disposal. Jeno's hand moved from the gear shift to rest lightly on my thigh, a touch both tender and possessive. "You look amazing," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Even when you're terrified."

I couldn't help but laugh, the sound swallowed by the wind rushing past us. Jeno's confidence was infectious, a balm to my frayed nerves. His hand lingered on my thigh, a warm, reassuring presence. "Focus on the road," I managed to say, my voice shaky but steady.

He chuckled, his fingers giving a gentle squeeze before returning to the gear shift. "Always," he replied, his attention snapping back to the street ahead. The next turn loomed, a sharp right that required precision and timing. Jeno braked hard, the car fishtailing slightly before he corrected with a deft flick of the wheel. We shot out of the turn, the tires finding grip and propelling us forward with a surge of acceleration.

The thrill of the race was a heady mix of fear and exhilaration, each moment a delicate balance between control and chaos. Jeno thrived on it, his every movement a testament to his skill and daring. His eyes never wavered from the road, but I could feel his presence beside me, a steady anchor in the storm of speed.

He glanced at me again, his smile a flash of white in the darkness. "Still with me?" he asked, his voice filled with a teasing lilt.

"Always," I replied, echoing his earlier words. The tension in my body eased slightly, replaced by a growing sense of excitement. Jeno's confidence was contagious, a steadying force that kept me grounded even as we hurtled through the night.

The next few turns came in quick succession, each one a test of Jeno's skill and the car's capabilities. He navigated them with a fluid grace, his hands and feet moving in perfect harmony. The car responded to his every command, a finely tuned instrument in the hands of a master.

As we approached the final stretch, the finish line a distant glow on the horizon, Jeno's demeanor shifted. His playful smile faded, replaced by a look of intense concentration. He shifted gears one last time, the engine roaring in response. The car surged forward, a blur of speed and power.

The finish line loomed closer, the crowd a mass of blurred faces and cheering voices. Jeno's grip on the wheel tightened, his focus unyielding. The world outside seemed to slow, every detail sharpening into crystal clarity. The rush of air, the roar of the engine, the pounding of my heart—all of it coalesced into a single, exhilarating moment.

And then, with a final burst of speed, we crossed the finish line. The car skidded to a halt, the tires squealing in protest. The world snapped back into focus, the noise and chaos of the crowd washing over us. Jeno turned to me, his face alight with triumph and exhilaration.

"We did it," he said, his voice breathless with excitement. His hand found mine, our fingers entwining. "We actually did it."

I laughed, a sound of pure joy and relief. The tension that had gripped me melted away, replaced by a sense of accomplishment and pride. Jeno's eyes sparkled with a mixture of relief and satisfaction, his smile broad and genuine.

"You're amazing," he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "I couldn't have done it without you."

I shook my head, still catching my breath. "You're the amazing one," I replied, squeezing his hand. "I was just along for the ride."

He laughed, a deep, rich sound that sent a thrill through me. "A ride you'll never forget," he said, his eyes locking onto mine. "And one we'll have to do again."

[i2rizz]

Fast and Furious! Pt. 3

Fandom: Blue Lock

Characters: street racer!Sae x reader

I also added some parts of the song Tokyo Drift in this too :>

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The streets of Tokyo were alive tonight. The hum of engines filled the air, punctuated by bursts of revs and the electric excitement of the gathered crowd. Neon lights reflected off sleek, polished cars lined up like predators waiting to pounce.

Among them was Sae Itoshi, leaning casually against his metallic silver Mazda RX-7, a masterpiece of speed and precision. His eyes, cold and calculating, scanned the crowd before landing on you.

“You ready?” he asked, his voice low and steady.

You crossed your arms, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “I should be asking you that. Aren’t you racing the big leagues tonight?”

Sae’s lips quirked in a faint smile. “Always. They don’t stand a chance.”

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The buzz of anticipation grew as the racers gathered at the starting line. You slipped into the passenger seat of Sae’s RX-7, the leather interior cool against your skin. The scent of fuel and burnt rubber was intoxicating, a promise of the adrenaline to come.

As the cars lined up, a familiar beat began to pump through the speakers, the bass reverberating through your chest.

“I wonder if you know,

How they live in Tokyo…”

You glanced at Sae, who was adjusting his gloves, his focus razor-sharp. The song seemed to fuel him, the lyrics echoing the essence of the race.

“Fitting, don’t you think?” you teased.

He didn’t reply, his smirk and the fire in his eyes saying everything.

The flag dropped, and the world exploded into motion. Sae’s RX-7 roared to life, the engine’s growl a symphony of raw power.

“If you see me, then you mean it,

Then you know you have to go...”

The car shot forward, weaving through the pack with ease. Sae’s hands moved with precision, his every motion calculated and controlled. You clung to the door handle, your heart pounding in sync with the pulsing bass of the song.

“Fast. Furious,” he muttered under his breath, almost in time with the lyrics.

The neon-lit streets blurred past, each corner a challenge that Sae met with perfect drifts. The tires screamed against the asphalt, smoke curling behind you as the car slid effortlessly through turns.

“Fast and furious… Drift, drift, drift!”

The RX-7 hugged the curves of the road, its tail swinging wide before snapping back into place. Sae’s expression never wavered, his focus unbreakable as he edged closer to the leader.

The lead car was a black Nissan Skyline, its driver every bit as aggressive as Sae. The two vehicles danced a dangerous tango, swapping positions with each straightaway and turn.

“Who is that?” you asked, glancing at the Skyline.

“Doesn’t matter,” Sae replied coolly, his foot pressing harder on the gas. “They’ll lose.”

The lyrics of the song seemed to mock the Skyline driver as Sae closed the gap.

“Say it again, better not forget it,

Drift, drift, drift!”

Sae timed his move perfectly, cutting inside on a hairpin turn. The RX-7 slid past the Skyline, the tires screaming in protest as the crowd roared in approval.

Just as victory seemed assured, the telltale wail of sirens shattered the night. Red and blue lights flashed in the distance, the police converging on the race like wolves closing in on prey.

“Shit,” you muttered, gripping the seat as Sae accelerated.

He didn’t seem fazed. If anything, he looked amused. “Hold on.”

The song blared louder, its defiant energy matching the chaos around you.

“Rasa sayang yo, rasa sayang sayang yo...”

The RX-7 darted through the city streets, Sae navigating the labyrinth of alleys and side roads with ease. The police cars struggled to keep up, their movements clunky and uncoordinated compared to Sae’s fluid mastery.

“Do you even have a plan?” you asked, your voice tight with adrenaline.

“Always,” he replied, his smirk returning.

“You’re not stopping me now!”

The RX-7 roared down an empty highway, the sirens fading into the distance. Sae glanced in the rearview mirror, satisfied that the police were no longer a threat.

He slowed the car to a more reasonable speed, the engine’s growl settling into a low purr. The song still played faintly in the background, its energy now a memory of the chaos you’d just escaped.

You exhaled, slumping back in your seat. “You’re insane, you know that?”

He glanced at you, his smirk softening into something almost affectionate. “And you love it.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the truth in his words. Despite the danger, the unpredictability, there was something intoxicating about being by Sae’s side.

“Next time,” you said, your tone teasing, “maybe warn me before we almost get arrested.”

He chuckled, shifting gears as the city lights stretched out before you. “Where’s the fun in that?”

The two of you drove in comfortable silence, the adrenaline fading into a warm glow. Sae’s hand rested casually on your thigh, his focus now split between the road and you.

“You’re not scared, are you?” he asked suddenly.

You turned to him, a playful grin on your lips. “Of you? Never.”

His gaze softened, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Good.”

As the RX-7 disappeared into the night, the echoes of “Tokyo Drift” lingered in your mind—a fitting anthem for a night you’d never forget.

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Did yall notice i like this AU? ;)

[carionto]

Just a little push

The conflict between Humanity and the United Federation was in it's early slow stages. After the rather unexpected attack on the symbolic Death Kebab there was a lot of buzz and light skirmishes in the nearby systems, but no noteworthy confrontation.

The placement of the Death Kebab was provocative by design, and with both sides so far away from one another, there could not be any mass fleet formation without plenty of advance notice. Special operations units, however, are everywhere.

Unlike Humanity, who currently only has Earth as a planet under their direct control and with a notable population, the Federation is vast - core worlds surrounded by buffer manufacturing and agriculture and all manner of other production focused systems, which themselves are further surrounded out by new colonies, annexed planets, "contract" aka slave worlds.

Getting close to Earth without being spotted by any number of civilian organizations is nigh impossible, and when you count the military intelligence and surveillance networks, there's hardly an atom that remains unregistered. Certain people with, let's say, less than honest intentions, still manage to find ways to keep their activities hidden. For a while at least.

These kinds of skills, when employed by a trained operative with the highest grade equipment, make them virtually invisible everywhere else. A poorly guarded third-rate mining colony? Why, with just a little preparation, you could float an entire Dreadnought up to their atmosphere before they noticed. Assuming they would even care after offering a slightly more lucrative deal than the Federation.

For this particular mission, however, they would care.

Vrontaria was a very productive system with nearly a dozen orbital shipyards and hundreds of mining, processing, and export operations that account for roughly 4% of the entire Federation military hardware supply, and nearly a fifth of all their capital ship production. Thus, it was quite heavily guarded, with every nearby system monitored for any suspicious activity.

What they didn't monitor all too well were the mostly useless planets and moons within the Vrontaria system itself. Of particularly little interest was the resident gas giant - Omk.

And why would anyone bother regularly scanning the interior of a gas giant for foreign matter, everyone knows entering the "atmosphere" of a gas giant will just crush everything. Right?

*glances sideways*

:D

It took the better part of a month, but the special unit managed to covertly install about five thousand gravitational pulse thrusters and all necessary power generators within the upper layer of Omk, but just far enough below the storms to make their activity not make any visible change. For comparison, one such thruster can accelerate an entire Dreadnought. Slowly, sure, which is why they have at least 6 to be able to maneuver, and Omk was not the largest gas giant in the Galaxy, about two thirds of Jupiter.

So, one day not long after, someone on Ja'Ulnika, the main planet of the Vrontaria system, noticed that Omk was a little bit further along its orbital path than it should be.

Concerning.

Then they took more precise measurements and realized it was going faster than before.

Very concerning.

Finally, they had someone go up to it and then they noticed all of the thrust force coming from one side of it, changing its orbit to get far too close to Ja'Ulnika for comfort.

Panic inducing to say the least.

By the time a full force of combat ships arrived to sort out this mess and start disabling all these planet-moving thrusters, scans showed they had self-destructed. Even if they had the ability to retrieve anything from the inside of a gas giant, at this point it would be worthless scraps.

The final orbit of Omk would put it on a course to capture Ja'Ulnika in its gravitational well in two years time and take it along for a joyride to orbits outside the habitable zone, rendering it inhospitable in around 5-6 years. Not to mention the carnage tides would cause on a world without its own moon. Or any other catastrophic events that might occur when a planet is essentially kidnapped into a becoming moon.

Wars are fought on many fronts. inevitable devastation and unavoidable future reduction in capacity force you to act in ways you would rather not. Sometimes creating a logistical nightmare that your enemy has to deal with no matter what can be the greatest killing blow that a swift and spectacular showdown space battle could never be.