#but even then. why am i always left. alone

[lostintransist]

Broken Beyond Bearing

-… . - .- … / -… . .. -. —. / -… ..- - -.-. …. . .-. . -..

@beloveds-embrace I hope I did this idea a bit of justice so far. Inspired by the delcious idea from beloveds found here.

CW: references to medical procedures that were not agreed to, reader is dying, A/B/O, odd dynamics, babies first time writing A/B/O.

A/N: I am really new to A/B/O so if something feels off or if you want more of this idea LMK!

Kate told you that the CIA still used Morse code in the field sometimes. It had fallen out of fashion after World War II and the alphabet soup of government agencies liked to reuse what they could. She said it worked best for short messages and when speaking could alert enemies. She talked at you nonstop on the long drive from the hospital. You wondered if the silence would bite at her toes or if the drone of the engine would keep it at bay.

She found you in the waiting room. Back straight, head upright you stare out the window across from you. If you ignore her maybe she will leave you alone like everyone else. You had been freed from a facility when some government agency or another busted them for performing illegal experiments on betas. Everyone else had a family to return to.

You weren’t everyone.

“I have a friend at this hospital. He called me when he saw that you had yet to be released,” she uses a soft voice as if the mint green and oddly shaped couches were pews instead. Pews don’t creak like plastic when you shift your weight. “My name is Kate. My friend, Ty, is an administrator here. He mentioned you needed someone to sign for you due to your beta status and the lack of documentation on your identity.”

Silence had been your only weapon against the staff there and the staff here.

She smells of alpha, the heady scent that should reek of safety and confidence. It tastes sour in the back of your throat.

“I’ve read through the information about you from Scorpio, the changes they made to you? They don’t expect you to make it another five years.” Kate rubbed her hands down the top of her slacks. “I’m here to give you an offer.”

Glancing at her without turning your head you wait. When she meets your side eye you shift your gaze back to the distant fluffy clouds dotting the sky like sheep grazing through a meadow. The sky sheep look all the whiter for the blanket of snow smothering the earth below.

“I know of a group of men, even split between them alpha and omega, who could use someone to care for. They are gone for long stretches of time and won’t pressure you for anything, only to care for you and use you as a touchstone of normalcy,” Kate lets out a breath, the shifting air bringing more of her should be comforting scent to your nose.

Voices drift past the locked doors to your right. You had posted up on the maternity floor, the staff had yet to find you here the last few times you were able to avoid their gazes.

“Why me?” Your voice whispers out. Should have grabbed the water mug the night nurse had left on your tray before you ducked from the room.

“Well, that’s the sticking point. They don’t know you would be coming. The guys have started to fray at the edges, getting reckless on jobs. I need them to be safe. If they have someone to come home to?”

Ah, so this wasn’t about you. Couldn’t ever be about you could it? No. Always a beta, never important.

Scorpio had seen six hundred seventeen betas through their doors before you quit counting. Not one of them left through the front door.

“You can’t tell them I’m dying.”

Control had to be a resource you doled out sparingly.

“Done.”

“And I get my own bed.”

The wrinkles around her face deepen as Kate settles on an unsure look.

“I’m not sure…”

“I will spend time in their nest when invited but I get my own bed,” you look at her now, face to face.

She must see something unmovable in your expression.

Sighing, her eyes drift shut and her shoulders relax.

“I will make it happen.”

Nodding once you stand.

“Lead on Kate, let us meet my doom head-on.”

Kate chooses not to comment on your morose declaration.

Maybe that is why she filled the car with her voice? She must not appreciate your brand of deadly honesty.

Her voice drifts away as she turns off the well-maintained and snow-cleared highway for a clear spot marked only by the tire tracks that lead between the dense trees.

“I’ve told them so many damn times they need to move closer but no it’s all ‘Kate you don’t understand we need the space from everyone’ and never thinking of how hard it is for people to visit them,” she mutters to herself as the color leeches from her knuckles with each slip of the tires.

“Maybe they don’t want visitors.”

Kate’s brows pull down as she glares out the windshield.

Looking back out the window you catch sight of a massive moose between the trunks before it disappears into the trees. It takes another twenty minutes of achingly slow driving before Kate finally relaxes her shoulders.

The smell of satisfaction drifts through the car heater. Turning you find a modestly large cabin, a green metal slanted roof, and a porch that reaches from one corner of the house to the other. Next to the stairs that connected the porch to the ground are two vehicles, one SUV and one large truck, though these both sit neatly under the porch. Kate parks in the open.

Without hesitation she climbs from the driver’s seat, grabbing the backpack she picked up for you with your three changes of clothes and two sets for sleeping. Kate is halfway up the stairs when you finally join her. Snow clings to the canvas of your shoes even as you follow in the large boot prints she left behind for you.

Tucking your arms close to your chest you stand behind Kate as she pounds with a fist on the door. The swish of her coat is the loudest sound beyond her beating for entry. You are fighting to keep your teeth from chattering when the door finally opens. You didn’t know cold had a smell. The only word you could find for it? Sharp.

“John. Took you long enough,” Kate pushes her way through the opening in the door.

A burly man steps back to allow her entrance. He is barely decent, his robe hanging open and tie only just covering his bits. John lifts a brow at you when you don’t immediately follow. You are not dressed for winter. When a particularly chilled bit of wind rushes past you and into the house, he moves to shut the door. Darting inside you watch him warily until you stand near Kate again. She stands in front of a massive couch. Counting the cushions, you give yourself the space to breathe. Twelve separate sitting spaces, three walls of a square, and still with room to walk behind and peer out the window that took up nearly the whole wall behind it.

“Not like you to show up without calling Kate. What is this about?” John steps around the snow you shed on his hardwood floor.

“I brought you a wife.”

They stare at each other for nearly thirty seconds. Your toes start to sting from the cold. The shoes on your feet squeak as you shift from foot to foot. Making the mistake of breathing too deeply you can taste the battle of wills between them. Kate’s shouldn’t be sour scent warred with John’s masculine, woodsy scent. He was an omega?

A long table is positioned opposite the kitchen, and central to it all is a wood-burning stove. The kitchen has an excess of cabinets. You start to count them to avoid what your nose is telling you.

“Why would I need a wife?” He finally asks.

You are also curious about the word choice. Betas weren’t terribly important in the grand scheme, born at a lower rate and died at a faster one. Populations didn’t need betas to survive, they, you, were mostly only good for keeping fights from escalating. With everyone receiving training in school anymore on how to address and deal with signs of rut/heat to avoid fights, death due to rut-related combat had reduced by over half. Betas were less important than ever. The other reduction in deaths had come from Scorpio.

Sarah had always been so proud to tell you about how you were contributing to keeping alphas from killing each other when she drew your blood or injected you with yet another unknown serum. The government had started to pump the barest amount of what Sarah called, calmers, into the water system. Said it was good for everyone, like fluoride.

“Serin, helicopter, Los Alamos, hospital visit. Would you like me to go on?” Kate said all those words as if they made any sort of sense.

John sucked in a deep breath through his nose. His eyes snapped to you.

“What are you?”

Kate steps in front of you. The slap of your hand to your scent gland runs parallel to her words. Sarah had done something to you, changed everything at a base level, including your scent.

“Beta, and a wife. Someone to care for, someone who needs you.”

His eyes are on you as sounds from deeper in the house reach your ears. Deep voices, a loud thump, then laughter. You look past John and see a set of stairs near the front door that leads to a second floor that only takes up part of the space from the vaulted ceiling.

“We don’t need anyone Kate-” he folds his arms across his hairy chest as Kate cuts him off.

“Should I ask them then? Call them down and see what they say?” She glares up at him, the height difference not making a difference even when her alpha to his omega should. You had only ever seen one dynamic, alpha ruling, all else managing to stay out of their way. That did not hold true here. They battled as equals.

John let his lung full of air go, a sigh of admission as his hands fell to his hips.

“No. We will take her.”

Kate nods once, settling your backpack on the couch before turning and giving your shoulder a squeeze.

When she turns back to John she gives him the final piece of information.

“She gets a room to herself. Doesn’t need to be much, but at least a place to retreat when everything becomes too much.”

He rolls his eyes but nods.

“Anything else Kate?” He asks drolly.

The glare she sends him is met with a smirk.

“I will check back in a week to see how everyone is settling.”

John walks her to the front door, opening it for Kate to step back into the startling brilliance of the sun twinkling off snow.

When the door clicks shut behind her John turns to you. His eyes drift from your feet upward until settling on your face.

“Hello, wife.”

[xannsin]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐃 ᯓ★ 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐙

précis: you and nicholas fell apart, the two of you simply wanted different things. months later, you’re sure about wanting one thing in common.

a/n: hey! i’m back, i’m very sorry for my absence, i do have a ton of responsibilities and unfortunately took a lengthy break but i’m working on a ton of writes for all of you!

warning: +18, minors dni, penetrative sex, creampie, sexual praise, overstimulation, unprotected sex

enjoy!

The relationship between you and Nicholas is strained.

When you were together in your early twenties, it felt like everything was possible. Until it wasn’t. You wanted the whole picture: house, rings, maybe a kid someday. Nicholas? He wanted out. Out of your tiny apartment. Out of your careful plans. Out into the world where he could be whoever the hell he wanted. And he got it. That bastard climbed the ladder so fast it was dizzying.

The breakup wasn’t even dramatic. Just him sitting at the edge of the bed, running his stupid hands through his stupid messy hair, sighing like it physically hurt him to talk.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he’d said, his voice low but clear, like it had already been rehearsed.

You stared at him, dumbfounded, because what the actual fuck. “Do what?”

“Play house.” He looked up then, those half-lidded brown eyes unreadable, his jaw locked tight. “You deserve someone who… I don’t know. Gives a shit about marriage and brunch and—whatever. That’s not me.”

And that was it. He left you like that—angry, confused, and clutching onto your shared dreams like a sucker.

Months later, you were doing fine. Or fine enough. Until the call came. A sleek-sounding assistant from some hotel agency left a voicemail, sweetly confirming your reservation for the weekend. Which was hilarious because you didn’t make one.

Except you had. Well, Nicholas had. Back when you were together. It was supposed to be this grand romantic getaway, but he’d apparently forgotten to cancel it. You debated ignoring it. But curiosity is a real bitch, and the idea of lounging in a fancy-ass suite alone? Tempting.

You didn’t expect to see him there. Which is why, when the elevator doors opened to reveal Nicholas Chavez—tan skin, broad everything, and wearing a wrinkled t-shirt like it was designer—you screamed. Not in terror, but pure, unfiltered what the fuck.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you yelled, wide-eyed, already regretting every life choice that led you to this moment.

He stared at you like you were the weird one, his eyebrows lifting just a fraction. “What am I doing here? This was my plan!” His voice was still annoyingly calm, with that slight Cuban lilt that came out when he was caught off guard.

“Your plan?” You jabbed a finger at his chest—hard. “Your dumbass forgot to cancel this, so they called me!”

He blinked, slowly, because of course he was the kind of guy who could take a verbal beatdown without flinching. “Fuck,” he muttered finally, rubbing the back of his neck.

And just like that, the tension cracked. You both laughed, loud and stupid, because it was ridiculous. You hated him, but also… you didn’t. Because beneath the stoic, sarcastic exterior was the same guy who once wanted to take you here. Maybe just for a moment, you could remember that. Or maybe you’d just spend the weekend screaming at each other. Either way, it was already too late to back out.

The laughter died off, but the awkwardness lingered like a bad smell. You couldn’t quite figure out what to do next. Storm past him? Push him out of the elevator? Or just turn back and get the hell out of there? Nicholas stood there, leaning casually against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest like he had all the time in the world. His half-lidded eyes scanned your face—always calculating, always trying to figure out what move you were going to make before you even knew yourself.

“So,” he said finally, voice low and calm, “you gonna stand there all day, or are you coming in?”

You blinked. “Coming in? Are you serious right now?”

He shrugged, that lazy smirk creeping onto his annoyingly perfect face. “Look, I’m not going to fight you for the room. I forgot to cancel it. That’s on me. But if you’re here, you might as well enjoy it.”

“What a gentleman,” you muttered, brushing past him into the suite.

The place was ridiculous. Plush carpets, floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the city that looked like it belonged in a movie. And the bed? Huge. Like, offensively huge. Of course Nicholas would have booked a place like this. He always had a knack for things that looked effortless but cost a fortune.

“You seriously came here alone?” you asked, turning to face him.

He was leaning against the kitchen counter now, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone. He wasn’t looking at you, just scrolling through his screen like he couldn’t be bothered. “Yeah. Why?”

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “Because this was supposed to be a romantic trip. What were you gonna do? Have a candlelit dinner for one?”

He finally looked up, his expression flat. “I don’t see the point in wasting a good reservation just because we broke up.”

“Jesus, Nick.” You shook your head, dropping your bag onto the nearest chair. “You’re unreal.”

“Thanks,” he said, deadpan, before tossing his phone onto the counter and grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “Want one?”

You glared at him. “What I want is to not be stuck in a luxury hotel suite with my ex-boyfriend.”

“Yeah, well,” he cracked the cap off his water and took a swig, “life’s full of disappointments.”

You hated him. You really did. Or at least you wanted to. But then he went and did that thing—where his voice softened, just a fraction, and his eyes, half-lidded and calm, gave you that unreadable look that always made your stomach flip.

“Look,” he said, leaning against the counter, his tone quieter now. “We can fight all weekend if you want. Or we can just… not. Your call.”

You wanted to fight. God, you wanted to yell at him, to drag up every shitty thing he ever did, every late-night argument, every time he’d brushed you off with that maddening stoicism. But standing there, looking at him—broad shoulders, messy hair, tired eyes—you realized you didn’t have the energy to.

“Fine,” you muttered. “Truce.”

“Truce,” he echoed, raising his water bottle in a mock toast.

The first few hours were… weird. You avoided each other, mostly. You hung out in the living room while he stayed in the bedroom, and for a while, it almost felt like you weren’t sharing the space at all. But, of course, that didn’t last.

It was late—almost midnight—when you wandered into the kitchen for a snack and found Nicholas sitting at the counter, scrolling through his phone again. He looked up when you walked in, his brown eyes sharp even in the low light.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low and rough, like he hadn’t spoken in hours.

You shrugged, opening the fridge. “Too quiet.”

He chuckled softly—just a huff of air through his nose. “Ironic, coming from you.”

“Shut up,” you shot back, grabbing a bottle of wine and holding it up. “Want some?”

He tilted his head, considering. “Sure. Why not.”

You didn’t expect it, but the two of you ended up sitting on the floor of the suite, leaning against the couch, passing the bottle back and forth like a couple of college kids. And for the first time in months, it didn’t feel strained. It felt… easy.

“Do you ever think about it?” you asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

He turned to look at you, his expression unreadable. “Think about what?”

“Us,” you said, waving the bottle vaguely. “What happened. Why it went to shit.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared at the floor, his jaw tightening. “Yeah,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “I think about it.”

“And?”

He let out a long breath, running a hand through his messy hair. “And… I don’t know. Maybe I fucked up. Or maybe we just wanted different things.”

You frowned, staring at him. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”

He met your gaze then, his brown eyes soft but guarded. “What do you want me to say? That I regret it? That I wish I’d stayed? I don’t know if I do. But I know I didn’t handle it right. And I know I hurt you. For what it’s worth… I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t much. But it was something. And for now, that was enough.

The next few days unfolded like an awkward dance neither of you really wanted to be a part of, but here you were, stuck in this stupid hotel suite, both pretending it wasn’t all too familiar. The truce held, but it was fragile. There was an air of tension that lingered in every room, especially when the two of you were alone. Every glance was a little too long, every word a little too sharp, and yet neither of you could walk away from it. There was an undeniable pull, like the universe was mocking you for still being tied to each other in some way.

One night, after an uncomfortable dinner in the hotel’s overpriced restaurant, you found yourself back in the suite. Nicholas was sprawled on the couch, his arms thrown behind his head, casually flipping through channels like you didn’t just have a conversation that felt like two strangers trying to fill the empty space between them. You, on the other hand, were too wound up, pacing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city lights twinkled below, casting a faint glow that made the whole room feel surreal.

“You’re gonna wear a hole in the carpet if you keep pacing like that,” Nicholas muttered, not even looking at you. His voice was as disinterested as ever, but you could hear that hint of amusement in his tone, like he enjoyed getting under your skin.

You shot him a glance, your eyes narrowing. “I’m thinking, alright? Can’t I think without you making sarcastic comments?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, the sarcasm oozing from every word. “I’ll stop. Wouldn’t want to ruin your moment of clarity.”

You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to snap back. Instead, you took a deep breath, walking to the other side of the room and standing still for a second. “Why are you here?” You asked it before you could stop yourself, and the question hung in the air, heavier than it should have been.

Nicholas didn’t flinch, just let out a sigh, his eyes flicking to you briefly. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he just stared at you like he was sizing you up. His lips twisted into that usual smirk, but this time it wasn’t quite as mocking. There was something else in it—something real, maybe even vulnerable, but he hid it behind his usual stoic expression.

“Why do you think I’m here?” His voice was quieter now, not the usual sarcasm laced with a challenge.

Your stomach flipped. You hated how easily he could do that to you—make you feel like he was reading you from the inside out, even when he said nothing. “I don’t know,” you muttered, crossing your arms, trying to look indifferent. “I guess I thought you didn’t give a shit about me anymore.”

Nicholas sat up then, his broad shoulders blocking the light from the TV. “I never said that.” His voice was low, serious, and when you looked at him again, he was closer. Closer than before, but it wasn’t an invitation to fight. It was something else.

“Look, we… we fucked this up, okay?” he said, his eyes softening just enough that you could see the regret hidden under that layer of arrogance. “I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, but I didn’t want to lose you, either.”

You swallowed hard, unable to speak, because for all his quiet moments and sarcastic jabs, that admission hit you harder than you wanted it to. “Don’t,” you whispered, the words coming out hoarse. “Just don’t… make it worse.”

He was quiet for a long moment, and you both stood there, inches apart but still worlds away. Then, in a rare moment of self-awareness, Nicholas moved slowly, his hand reaching out as if to make sure you wouldn’t pull away.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t some sudden, passionate moment where everything exploded. No, it was slow, careful, as if he was waiting for you to pull back, to shove him away, to tell him to fuck off. But you didn’t. Instead, you stood there, letting his lips press softly against yours, a little tentative at first. His lips were warm, surprisingly soft, and for a second, you forgot how much you hated him. Or maybe you didn’t hate him. Maybe, in that moment, it was just two people who couldn’t figure it out, but still needed each other.

When he pulled away, it was barely an inch, his breath mingling with yours. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the softness of his hand still resting on your arm, the warmth of his body so close.

“Still mad at me?” he asked quietly, his voice rougher now, like the moment had undone something in him.

You didn’t answer immediately, just looked at him—his messy brown hair falling over his forehead, his sharp jawline, and those goddamn brown eyes that always seemed to see right through you. You wanted to hate him for making it so hard, for fucking up so many times. But you couldn’t. Not when he was here, looking at you like maybe he was finally seeing you for the first time in a long time.

“No,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But you’re still a fucking asshole.”

He smirked at that, and it felt like a little bit of the tension between you two broke, just enough to let you both breathe. “I’ll take it,” he said, leaning in again, but this time it was different. There was no hesitation. No more apologies. It was just you and him, in this stupid hotel room, with no answers but maybe something else—something neither of you could deny anymore.

And when his lips met yours again, it wasn’t slow this time. It wasn’t careful. It was urgent, real, like neither of you knew what the hell you were doing but were too tired to care anymore.

“This okay?” He murmured against your lips, his hands gently tangling in your hair. “Mhm,” You whine quietly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he picked you up. He carried you to that behemoth of a bed and set you down before getting on top of you, careful not to smush you. “You sure you’re okay with this.” He says, asking, but confirming with statement at the same time. You nod in response, and he gently continues, grabbing your jaw, moving your head upwards to pepper kisses on your neck.

Your body instinctively responds, your arms wrapping around him as you let out the softest, faintest moans at the sensations on your neck. You hear that familiar unzip of his jeans that you so desperately missed. You work at taking off yours, shimmying slightly out of your tight jeans before discarding the fabric onto the floor. You do the same with your blouse.

You watch as Nicholas was only in boxers, having already taken off his jeans and shirt. You could see the tent in his boxers, basically throbbing for escape from the tight fabric. You gently reach out, your hand hesitant, but it settled on the thick bulge. Nicholas’ body went taut, his hands steadying himself on both sides of your head. “You okay?” You whispered, your hands gently working his bulge. He just nodded quickly before swallowing thickly, his eyes closing as your hand went lower, cupping his clothed sac. He exhaled softly, his bottom lip twitching slightly with the effort of holding back a soft moan.

Your hand moved up, falling onto the hem of his boxers. You looked up at him, silently asking for permission. He opened his eyes before looking down at you through half-lidded eyes before nodding a soft yes.

You gently peel his boxers down, his dick jumping out and immediately slapping against your bare thigh. He looked down in between your bodies, and so did you. You hadn’t seen his bare body in a while. His length was really girthy, at least 10 inches long, veiny, mushroom-tipped, throbbing, and aching to be inside of you. His tip wept pre-cum, it needed its release. Well — he did.

He moved your panties to the side of your thigh with his thumb, looking down at your bare, leaking pussy. He looked up at you before slowly grinning, “You’re beautiful.” You shake your head modestly, “Sure.” He rolls his eyes at your humility, “Just accept the damn compliment.”

His thumb gently touched your little bundle of nerves, gently rubbing it in slow circled, eliciting a small whimper from you. He knew how to make you twitch. Whimper. Whine. Shake. Cum. Your legs trembled as he worked your clit with his fingers, his middle finger finding your neglected, small hole. “Feels like it shrunk. You haven’t had sex in a while, have you?”

“Not since you, no.” You muttered through strained breaths, and pleasured winces. “Mm.” He hummed softly, adding more pressure, but not enough. On purpose. You were whimpering needily, your whines being more pleading than they needed to. He spoke after a moment, “Don’t worry, gonna get what you want.”

“Eventually.”

You frowned slightly, but you were too breathless to protest. You whined as he pulled his hand away, but he tutted softly. “Patience, pretty girl.”

He reached down, his hand finding his throbbing cock. He pulled you closer to him with his other hand, comfortably settling himself in between your legs. “Comfy?” He asked, and you nodded in response. He slowly stroked his tip along your slit, eliciting a gasp from you. He did that almost-grin, half-lidded eye combination that made your stomach flutter. He kept his dick positioned correctly with his right hand, and he was gently holding you down, steadying you, with his left. “I’m gonna start slow.” He muttered breathily.

“Okay,” You gasped, mentally preparing yourself for the stretch you’re about to feel. You hadn’t felt him inside of you for months, so this was probably going to hurt a bi—

“Shit…”

You winced quietly as you felt his thick tip slide inside of your pussy, the sensation overwhelming. You writhed under him, as if trying to get away, but you really didn’t want to get away. It was just hard to take it. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here,” Nicholas lulled, continuing to slowly ease himself inside of your pussy. His goal was to be buried to the hilt inside of you, and he was going to achieve that.

He began thrusting into you with more confidence, yet purposefully making them sloppy and slightly uncoordinated. His sole objective was making you feel good. And he was doing a damn good job at it. You were practically drooling at this point, his shaft sliding in and out of your wet cunt at an almost rapid pace. He was forcing himself to fit. He hit spots that were making you cry out in pleasure, gasping for air. “Shh, I got you, I got you,” He whispered in between gasps, his balls smacking against your ass with every thrust he made.

The bed didn’t creak once, you’ll give it that. It was a sturdy ass bed. Nicholas was pounding into you by now, working on hitting those spots that made you feel good. Your tiny hole stretches so beautifully as his thick shaft slides in and out, the small, subtle bulge just below your stomach showing just how far he reaches inside of you. His fingers traced circles over your hip, his own hips working on pumping his dick in and out of you. But they were already stuttering.

The room filled with the smell of sex, skin smacking against skin, and the sheets shifting under weight.

You missed those small, subtle whimpers Nicholas made when he was close. They felt like memories you never had the opportunity to make reality more than just a few times. You’re glad you’re reliving it — not just the sex, but what lies deeper. The pure intimacy behind it, what sex really expresses between you both. Being loved again feels… good. If not, great.

Maybe great is an understatement too.

Nicholas huffs heavily as he feels your pussy gripping his cock like a vice, contracting rapidly. He slows down because he can sense the impending release on not just him, but you too. You gasped heavily as you felt your release. Nicholas’ hips stuttered, your legs trembled, and there it was.

Nicholas’ hot seed poured inside of you, not letting any go to waste. He weakly pulled out, sighing softly. He collapsed next to you on the bed, the two of you panting. He slung his arm around your waist before pulling you closer, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Y’know,” You start, still catching your breath, “I’m glad this happened. Us reuniting unexpectedly all because you forgot to cancel a ticket.”

“Huh? Oh. No, I knew you’d come.” Nicholas said after a beat flatly, completely serious.

Well then.

[mayababes19]

Wrap Around Me, Darlin'

⚠️ MDNI, Toji x F!Reader, Toji x Afab!Reader, Dom!Toji, Sub!Reader, Degradtion, smut ⚠️

A small (late, I apologize pookie 🙇🏾‍♀️) birthday gift for, @screampied. Please. I struggled on the ending for the past week, I didn't know how to end this 😭.

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Christmas. 

One of the holidays Toji didn’t care for. Toji was your long-distance boyfriend. Always sending gifts and face-timing when he could, but this year? Oh, this year was different. 

He had a plan. A real good plan. 

“Toji,I miss you. I haven’t seen you in 2 months.” once again. You decided to annoy your boyfriend in the wee hours of the morning. 1 am on Christmas to be exact. 

“And you decided to call at 1 am to complain?” He smirked. Damn. He looked so good. He gave you a clear view as he walked around in the streets. A bomber jacket, a white low v-neck,  and black cargo pants. “Hey darlin’, want your gift early?” He looked directly into the camera. Early? He was going to give it to you early? “Um,” you debated internally if you wanted to wait a couple of hours or not. ‘Fuck it’, you thought. Right now, you wish you had Toji instead of the small jewelry, bouquet of roses, etc he would usually get you. “Yes, please”.

Suddenly, the call got cut leaving you alone in the dark. “What just?-” you sat up in bed, frantically looking for your charger in the dark thinking your phone died. As you were searching, a knock was heard on your apartment door. You froze. It was 1 am, why was someone or something at your door? Without a second thought, you grabbed a bat just in case as you walked closer peering through the peephole. You couldn't believe your eyes. Eagerly, you unlocked the door and swung it open.

“Hey Darlin’”.

Shit.

Here he was. Toji was standing proudly in front of your door, his voice deep and silky. “Missed me?” “Are you crazy?! It’s 1 am, I wasn’t expecting you to show up!” He only smirked. Loving getting a rise out of you. “What? You wanted your present.” You stepped aside letting him in from the freezing air. “C’mere..” Toji gently pulled you into a soft yet rough kiss as you closed and locked the door. You wanted this. You missed him so much.

Toji carefully led you to your bedroom, the back of your knees hitting the edge of your bed. "You'll love your gift, Darlin'" He mumbled. Toji soon moved to your neck, leaving love bites as he tasted your skin. He was rough but also gentle. Little did you know that'll change soon. Toji pulled away, admiring the hickeys he left on your neck. He knew you'd have a hard time covering them and that gave him an ego boost.

"Strip," Toji ordered. He had a smug grin as he leaned back against your dresser. "Strip for me, darlin'." You knew he was serious. You started taking off your clothes, slowly, teasing and giving him a show. Toji grunted as he watched, trying to keep it together. "Teasing, huh? You know what'll happen if you keep going, Darlin'". He was right. Last time you teased him when he visited, you couldn't walk for 2 days. You got wetter as you remembered Toji dominating you that night. "Look at you," he cooed. "You're dripping down your thighs and I only kissed you. That needy, baby girl?"

Toji lifted himself off of your dresser and strode towards you, pushing you down on the bed. "All that beggin' and whining over the phone and now you're shocked? Tell me what you want, baby" he muttered as he got on his knees, kissing down your thighs. "Toji-" you gasped. Toji parted your thighs, licking his lips. "I missed my favorite dessert". Before you could even respond, Toji attacked your pussy eagerly licking and sucking like a starved man.

Lick after lick, you got wetter. He knew exactly how to get you going. "Tell me, baby girl," he parted your folds, sliding two fingers in. "What do you want?" He whispered, his hot breath fanning against your clit as he thrusted his fingers in and out. You moaned, arching your back. "Mmph.. Toji, fuck.." He barely even started and already made you speechless.

His fingers were so thick.. so long...

You looked down, your gaze meeting Toji's as he stared up at you through his bangs, sucking your clit and fingering you. "F-fuck Toji... I want you. I need you" you whined, squirming. Toji placed one of his arms across your stomach, holding you down as he continued to feast. He was driving you crazy and he's only been here for twenty minutes.

"Toji, please!-" Toji finally let up. A string of saliva connected his lips to your cunt as he pulled away. "Such a good girl for me, darlin,'". He smirked. He lifted his arm off of you and kissed up your chest. "A very good girl". You were breathing heavily, trying to process what he just did.

Toji sat up, removing his jacket, shirt, and shoes teasing your nipples in between - leaving him only in his boxers. He slid his fingers down, teasing your cunt once again. "On your knees, baby girl". You bent down, coming face to face with his bulge. Even with his boxers on, you could tell he was big.

You looked up at Toji, his eyes lidded as you pulled his boxers down. "Mm, you look so pretty on your knees for me." He teased. His thick, curved, and veiny cock sprung out - nearly hitting you. "Toji, did you.." you paused, too stunned to even finish. "Grow? Maybe, maybe not". He was so cocky. So.. fuck. He irritated you at times but damn did you love him. "Use those pretty lips, darlin'".

You wrapped your lips around his veiny cock, gagging as you try to take him in your throat. "C-come on, open that pretty mouth of yours, darlin'," he grunted. Toji's eyes glossed over as he watched you. "Such a pretty slut for me.." he cooed. Toji loved this. You were so sloppy whenever you sucked him off and every time he went back home, all he thought about was you on your knees using that sloppy mouth of yours.

You took Toji deeper causing the 6'2 foot man to moan, his eyes closing as he tilted his head back. Fuck. You thought he looked so sexy. Toji's eyes opened halfway and he pulled you head away, picking you up and tossing you on the bed. "Toji!" You glared at him but he didn't care. He couldn't wait anymore. And neither could you. "Shut up..." He kissed you, his tongue sliding between your lips as he crawled on top of you. The kiss was rough amd bruising, yet, passionate. He pulled away, a string of saliva connecting the both of your swollen lips.

"I'm going to fuck you all night until the only think you can remember is my name and the feeling of my dick pounding your little cunt, understand darlin'?" You nodded and Toji sat up positioning himself. "Toji, please.." you pleaded. You were aching for him and all he did was smirk and tease you. Such an asshole. He rubbed his cockhead against your enterance, slightly pushing in before pulling right back out. You whined and squirmed. "Beg for it," he mocked. "Beg for it like a little slut".

"I want you to fuck me. Please fuck me, Toji. I need you" you begged. "Good girl". Toji looked directly in your eyes as he pushed in, causing you to gasp and moan.

He was big. You felt every inch, every vein..

"Gasping already, darlin'? I only just started" he was indeed just getting started. "Nah.. we're not doing missionary. I'm going to give you something better. You're going to feel every inch of me as I rearrange your guts, baby girl. It's christmas, darlin'.." Toji flipped you over onto your stomach into the pronr bone position and started pounding into you.

You moaned, grabbing the sheets as your eyes rolled back. Toji leaned down kissing your neck, leaving hickeys. "Keep moaning for me, darlin'." He groaned. "Fuck, you feel so good baby girl. So wet and tight for me".

You reached a hand down rubbing your clit before Toji yanked it away causing you to whine, "ah, cute. Tryin' to cum early, hm? No baby... not gonna let you. You're going to take what I give you." "I'm sorry, Toji-" "Too late for that, slut."

Toji pulled out and grabbed your hips, flipping you onto your back. "Aww, look at you. You're clenching around nothing, baby. Such a needy whore for me". He propped up one of your legs onto his leg shoulder, still holding your hips before sliding back in. "Wrap your pretty cunt tight around me, darlin'". You grabbed his bicepts for support as he started thrusting again. You arched your back as you cried out. "F-fuck Toji..!"

He was smirking, "Take it like a good girl, baby.." Toji was hitting your g-spot repeatedly causing you to moan louder and louder. "You're so loud, darlin'. Trying to let your neighbors hear how much of a whore you are? Hm?" He teased, his movements speeding up. At this rate, you were close to seeing stars and babbling. He was like beast. He was fucking you so good. Toji spat on your clit and rubbed it with his thumb as he fucked you. He was so nasty. You heard slushing noises every time he moved deeper and deeper, nearly bottoming out. "Mmm, close t-toji.." you cooed. "Beg for me to let you cum. Say it, slut. Use your words and beg".

Every thrust and rub against your clit got you closer. You could feel your stomach tightening. "Please. Please let me cum, Toji." You begged. "Aht, not good enough" Toji added more pressure onto your clit. "M-mmph. Fuck. T-toji please..." you eyes rolled back as you moaned and your breathing hitched. "Please let me cum, Toji. I'll be g-good". Toji finally let up. "Cum for me, baby girl". After he said that, your climax hit you like a train and he slowed his thrusts slightly amd removed his thumb. Toji kissed you through your climax before pulling away. "Good girl.." Toji pulled out and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you with him.

"You can cum again? Right, baby?" He questioned. You nodded as he slid you down onto his cock. You bit your lip and wrapped your arms around his neck as you bounced up and down.

"Look at me as you ride me, darlin'" You looked at his face and it was so pretty. Bangs stuck to his sweaty forehead, eyes lidded, and his breathing labored as he made eye contact with you. The moonlight shined through the curtains highlighting his features. You sped up your movements causing the black-haired man to moan "fuck baby.." he groaned, throwing his head back. You kissed his neck as you rode him causing him to moan louder and more whiney. You left hickeys in every spot you kissed. Toji gripped your hips for support as you rode him faster. "I'm close, baby girl.."

You grinned. You knew this was perfect opportunity for revenge. You sped up your movements once more causing the buff man to moan your name and whine. Not long after, you both came together, moaning.

You collapsed onto Toji's chest as he fell back onto the bed. "Fuck darlin'.. I might have to stay until New Years..." He huffed, wrapping his arms around you.

This was the best Christmas present you could've wished for.

[theocddiaries]

Bruce: I don’t understand why we have to deal with this woman's problems. Jason: Come on, Bruce, you’re always going on about second or thousandth chances, and now you want to throw Harley out on the street? Damian: To be fair, it wouldn't be throwing her out. Just returning her. Dick: Stop being mean. [to Harley]: We’ll go with you to your hearing, okay? Harley: Really? Oh, guys, thank you so much. I owe you my life. I promise I won’t be a burden. MONDAY, 7:00 AM [Harley is asleep on the couch in the living room. She wakes up slowly and suddenly jumps up]. Harley: Oh my God. Oh, no! The trial! The trial! We’re going to miss the trial! [The family comes rushing down the stairs in a panic] Dick: Crap! We overslept. And there's only… [goes to check the clock and notices the calendar above]: …four days until the trial. Bruce: Harley, the trial is on Thursday, and today is Monday. Harley: Hold on… [counting on her fingers]: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday. Exactly. You could’ve figured that out without waking the rest of us, huh? [snuggles back into the couch]. TUESDAY, 7:30 AM [Harley stretches. She opens her eyes slowly and suddenly jumps up]. Harley: Fuck! The trial! We’re going to miss the trial!!! [The family rushes down the stairs in a panic] Dick: Shit, we overslept! Hurry, get dressed, there are only… [goes to check the clock and notices the calendar]: …wait, it’s Tuesday. Bruce: Harley, your trial is on Thursday! There are three days left. Harley: Hold on… [counting on her fingers]: Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday. Exactly. Damn it, Bruce, and you couldn’t tell me that at lunch? I was having such a nice dream… [snuggles back into the couch]. WEDNESDAY, 8:00 AM [Harley runs a hand over her face and blinks a couple of times. She suddenly jumps up] Harley: Oh, fuck! The trial! The trial, we’re going to miss my trial!!! Bruce [entering the living room in a foul mood]: Damn you to hell and back, Harley. You used to know your workdays so well when you were replacing fire extinguishers with ones filled with confetti! Your trial is in two days; today is Wednesday, and we need to go on Thursday. Harley: Hold on… [counting on her fingers]: Wednesday, Thursday. Exactly. Look, Bruce, the first two times were funny, but you need to know when to stop a joke, or you'll start being an annoyance. Think about that, okay? [snuggles back into the couch]. [The family looks at her, shaking their heads, and returns to their rooms] THURSDAY, 12:00 PM [The family comes rushing out of their rooms, clumsily getting ready in a hurry] Jason: Fuck, we overslept! The earful we gave her, and now look at us! Poor Harley must have gone all alone-- Harley [comes from the kitchen with a cup of coffee, still in her pajamas]: Hi, family. Tim: …But Harley, what are you doing here??? Harley: Kid, aren’t you a little young to have such a bad memory? I live here now! Bruce: And aren’t you a little old to be this dumb?! Don’t you have something to do today?! Harley: …Oh my God, you’re right! [lunges for the TV remote]: My gossip show is about to start! Bruce [snatches the remote away]: No! I mean your trial! Your trial is today! Harley: That's on Thursday! [looks at the rest of the family]: Can you believe this guy? The whole week messing it up, I don’t know how you all put up with him-- Damian [shoves the calendar her face] Harley: Fuck!!! The trial! We’re going to miss the trial…! Wait… Haven’t I lived this before??? [Everyone rolls their eyes and keeps getting dressed] Harley: Either that, or I dreamed it. Brains are amazing. They focus on what’s worrying you, and you can't forget it even in dreams… Where are you all going? What’s happening? Dick: Each and everyone you’ve brought into the house after me is worse, Bruce, worse.

[mcytegg]

because i am who i am (annoying abt ro always) i have this clip saved from when the orbital was being built of zam and minute very VERY briefly considering the idea that ro might betray them before ultimately brushing it off as "nah he wouldnt" and moving on.

now the interesting thing abt this clip To Me is that both minute and zam immediately discard the idea that ro could betray while mapicc is the one whos like "i could see him doing that", albiet very quietly which is why the topic is dropped so fast but i do find it rly funny and interesting that the person who arguably trusts/understands ro the most in the call (and on the server tbh) fully acknowledges that bc of who ro is, its entirely a possibility that he full betrays for fun or for content purposes while the two people who seem to doubt ro's loyalty and trustworthiness to anyone who Isnt mapicc dont consider the possibility of him betraying for more than 5 seconds max

the whole concept of "trust" on ls is just so interesting to me bc again . to older lsers, trust isnt abt never disagreeing w ur friend or teammate Ever and supporting every single thing they do, its about reliability and consistency in who u are. mapicc trusts zam, ro, and even spoke to an extent spanning across multiple seasons bc he knows them. he understands who they are, their morals, what they have fun w and what they need in a team, and their reasonings/logic behind the things that they do.

this is why he teams w zam in every season (bc he is reliable and fun to be around), why he always ends up teaming w spoke despite acknowledging that you should never EVER fully trust him if u have half a braincell (bc hes fun and mapicc knows what to expect), and why he Always ends up friends w ro in some shape or form (bc his loyalty and reliability is consistent when it matters most. he is also just fun LMFAO)

it isnt about always expecting them doing things he always like or what he wants, its abt the fact that he has fun w them. he cares about them, and they care about him in turn. he has spent the time w them to fully understand them which is why his relationship w all three of them has remained so consistent throughout the years— bc he always knows what to expect w them!! regardless of if theyre his enemies or his teammates or simply his allies, theyre people he is able to come to for fun and sillies no matter what bc they are his friends

like newer people (mainly derap and kab tbh) see the relationship older ls people have and want a relationship like that of their own but thats exactly why they havent had that yet. bc they dont understand How the relationship dynamic works on a fundamental level, they think its about unconditional support No Matter What and loyalty to one person and one person alone but its just. not that. like every player is their own person w their own thoughts, principals, feelings, and morals. like zam left team awesome and eclipse fed despite his very real love for both teams bc he couldnt agree w their morals. mapicc hated ro's teammates in s5 but never EVER expected him to choose or to leave his team to stay friends w him. like they are all their own people who have their own boundaries and the respect they have developed for each other throughout the seasons is why their relationships have become so stable and consistent throughout the seasons.

[speaknow-sw]

THE POET AND THE ROSE

Content : fluff, betrayal, fluff, fluff, mentions of pregnancy.

A/N : 8.3k words omg I’m proud of myself. I like this chapter because it’s pure fluff with plot. Anyway there’s only three chapters left after this one 😭.

꧁ Chapter 6 : A Life Begins ꧂

From the Lays of General Anakin Skywalker, XIII century

The flesh is weak, yet burns divine,

A hunger shared, a sacred sign.

In whispered touch, the world unwinds,

Desire consumes, as hearts entwine.

Two Months Later

The signs had been subtle at first, easy to dismiss amidst the chaos of court life and the lingering shadows of betrayal. You had felt the change before you fully understood it—a gentle tiredness that seemed to settle into your bones, the way your body rebelled at certain foods, and a strange, unfamiliar ache deep within you. But it wasn’t until one quiet evening in the solitude of your chambers, painting at your easel, that the realization had struck with the force of a storm.

You had paused mid-stroke, the brush trembling in your hand as you pressed a palm to your abdomen, instinctively protective of the life you now knew was growing there. A child. Anakin’s child. Your chest had tightened with a mix of wonder and fear, tears slipping unbidden down your cheeks as the weight of the revelation settled over you.

But how could you tell him?

Days had passed, and the secret felt like a flame in your chest, burning brighter with every glance he gave you, every touch of his hand, every stolen kiss. You waited for the right moment, for the perfect words, but they never seemed to come. And now, lying in the soft cocoon of your shared bed as the morning sun painted gold over the walls, you knew you couldn’t wait any longer.

The bedchamber was bathed in the soft glow of early morning, sunlight filtering through the gauzy curtains, painting the walls in golden hues. Anakin stirred beside you, the warmth of his arm draped possessively over your waist. For the first time in months, there was no urgency, no danger clawing at the edges of your lives—only the fragile peace that had settled between you like a long-awaited truce.

He opened his eyes slowly, their stormy depths softening as they found you already awake. A rare, unguarded smile curved his lips, and he reached to brush a strand of hair from your face.

"You’re watching me again," he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep.

"I am," you admitted with a teasing smile. "You’re easier to study when you’re not scowling."

He huffed a soft laugh, his hand slipping to your cheek. "And you’re easier to adore when you’re smiling like that."

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, and you turned your face slightly, pressing a kiss to his palm. Anakin shifted, propping himself up on one elbow so he could watch you more fully. The intensity of his gaze had always unsettled you before, but now, it made your heart race for entirely different reasons.

"Why do you look at me like that?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"Because I can," he said simply, his thumb brushing over your lips. "Because I don’t want to waste a single moment."

A comfortable silence followed as you lay there, tangled in the quiet intimacy of shared breaths and fleeting touches. It was in this moment, with his love laid bare and your heart so full it felt as though it might burst, that you knew you couldn’t keep your secret any longer.

"Anakin," you began, your voice trembling slightly.

He tilted his head, concern flickering across his face. "What is it?"

You hesitated, nerves tightening in your chest. Then, with a deep breath, you placed his hand gently over your abdomen. "We’re not alone anymore."

For a moment, there was only silence. Anakin stared at you, his brows knitting together in confusion before realization dawned. His hand tensed against you, his eyes widening.

"You mean…" His voice faltered, and he sat up fully, his gaze darting between your face and the place where his hand rested. "You mean there’s…?"

You nodded, tears brimming in your eyes. "A child. Our child."

A strangled sound escaped him—a mixture of disbelief and unbridled joy. He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, his hand trembling against your stomach.

"A child," he whispered, as if saying the words aloud would make them real. "Our child."

His other hand cupped your face, his lips finding yours in a kiss so tender it left you breathless. When he pulled back, his eyes were damp, his expression unguarded in a way you’d rarely seen.

"I never thought…" He shook his head, his voice breaking. "I never thought I’d have this. That I’d deserve this."

"You do," you said firmly, your own tears spilling over. "You deserve this, Anakin. You deserve everything."

He kissed you again, his hand never leaving your abdomen as if he feared the moment might vanish. When he finally pulled back, a mischievous grin tugged at his lips.

"I suppose this means I’ll have to be even more careful with you now," he said, his voice light but full of meaning.

"And you’ll have to stop taking so many arrows," you countered with a laugh, wiping at your cheeks.

He chuckled, the sound reverberating through you like a promise of brighter days. Then, with all the reverence of a man who had finally found something worth living for, he rested his head against your stomach and whispered, "I’ll protect you both. Always."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. He pressed his forehead against your abdomen, his hands cradling you as though he could somehow shield both you and the child within.

"I’ll protect you both," he repeated, his voice low and fierce. "I swear it. Nothing will ever harm you."

You ran your fingers through his hair, your heart swelling with love for this man who had so carefully guarded his heart until now. "I know," you whispered.

In that moment, with his arms wrapped around you and his love radiating so fiercely it felt like a shield, you believed him. For the first time, you dared to dream of a future beyond war, beyond duty—a future where love, not fear, shaped your lives.

From the Lays of General Anakin Skywalker, XIII century

Beneath my hand her womb softly sings,

A fragile promise, the weight of all things.

A vessel of stars with her body divine,

Carrying the future, forever entwined.

The morning sun cast long rays of light across the castle courtyard, gilding the stone walls and brightening the faces of the assembled crowd. Nobles in silk and armor lined the balconies, their curiosity veiled behind composed expressions. Below, commoners packed the square, their chatter a rising tide of speculation. The air was thick with expectation, the kind that settled before great moments.

Anakin Skywalker stood on the dais, his broad shoulders cloaked in a formal mantle, though his armor still bore the scratches and dents of battle. The sight of him commanded respect—his presence, forged in countless wars, left no room for doubt that this was a man of action, even amidst diplomacy.

Behind him, you lingered, draped in a gown of deep crimson that framed your figure elegantly. Your hands rested gently on your stomach, though the gesture was discreet. You were still adjusting to the weight of the news, the sheer gravity of what was to come.

Anakin turned slightly, his sharp blue gaze finding yours. The flicker of a smile softened the resolute lines of his face, a private exchange amid the public spectacle. Then, he faced the crowd and raised his hand, commanding silence.

“My people,” he began, his deep voice carrying effortlessly over the gathered throng, “we stand today in the fragile peace that follows war. These stones underfoot have borne witness to centuries of bloodshed and strife, of alliances forged and broken. Yet, today, I bring you a new promise—a reason to look beyond the scars of the past.”

The murmurs quieted entirely, the crowd hanging on his every word.

“It is with pride and humility that I announce a union not only between lands but within my own house. My wife,”—he paused, gesturing toward you with a reverence that made your breath catch—“carries within her a child.”

A ripple of astonishment coursed through the crowd. Gasps escaped lips, eyes widened, and an audible shift of energy swept through the courtyard. The nobles exchanged glances, their veiled thoughts unreadable, while the common folk clutched at their neighbors, whispering fervently.

“A child,” Anakin continued, his voice unyielding as he cut through the rising murmur, “born of two nations. A symbol of unity in a time when division would seek to undo us. This child will embody not only the blood of two kingdoms but the hope of peace that binds us all.”

The crowd’s reaction was a mixture of awe and uncertainty. Applause began hesitantly, building into a crescendo of cheers. Yet not all faces were jubilant. Among the French nobles, Count Aulbry’s expression tightened, his calculating gaze fixed on Anakin. Nearby, a cluster of English lords exchanged furtive looks, their smiles forced.

Anakin stepped closer to you, his hand extending. You accepted it without hesitation, your fingers trembling slightly in his firm grasp. He turned to face the crowd with you at his side, his voice now softer, yet no less commanding.

“This child is more than a bond of blood. It is a covenant,” he said, his eyes sweeping the audience before returning to you. “Let this life be a bridge, a reminder that no force of man or steel can sever what love and hope have built.”

The cheers erupted anew, though you could still sense the undercurrent of tension among the nobles. Even as their voices rose, clapping hands and ringing bells filling the air, you caught sight of Count Aulbry turning away, his lips a thin, displeased line.

You squeezed Anakin’s hand, grounding yourself in his steady presence. He glanced down at you, his expression softening in a way few had the privilege to see. His thumb brushed your knuckles, a silent reassurance.

As the crowd’s cheers continued, Anakin leaned closer, his words meant only for you. “Their faces betray their smiles,” he murmured. “This news binds us together, my rose, but it also stirs those who would see us fall. Be vigilant.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. For a fleeting moment, you longed to retreat from the weight of it all, to find solace in the quiet of your chambers, where the world’s scrutiny could not follow.

As the crowd slowly began to disperse, Anakin led you back toward the castle. The walk through the corridors was quieter than you had expected. His hand never left yours, his touch an anchor against the storm brewing in your mind.

Once you were alone in the warmth of the great hall, he paused, turning to face you fully. His hands framed your face, roughened palms gentle against your skin.

“Thank you,” he said softly, the intensity in his voice making you blink.

“For what?” you whispered, overwhelmed by the depth of his gaze.

“For giving me this,” he replied, his hand dropping to your abdomen. “For giving us this.”

The vulnerability in his voice, the way it cracked under the weight of his emotions, made your eyes well with tears.

“And thank you,” you whispered back, “for standing beside me when the world watches and whispers.”

He kissed you then, deeply, as though trying to etch that moment into his soul. The world outside the castle walls could rage and plot, but in that instant, nothing else existed but the two of you.

From the Lays of General Anakin Skywalker, XIII century

Within her womb, a kingdom stirs,

A bridge of blood, where hope confers.

The wars may rage, the world may scheme,

But here we stand, love’s quiet dream.

The soft glow of candlelight filled the room, casting long shadows on the walls as Anakin held you close. The sound of murmurs from the bustling servants outside seemed a distant hum. It was just the two of you, in a world where only your love existed.

His hand moved from the curve of your waist to wrap around you, pulling you nearer. The women outside the chamber whispered their gossip, but none of it mattered now. He only cared for you.

Anakin placed his chin on the top of your head, inhaling your scent. His breath was warm against the crown of your hair, and for a moment, there was silence between you both. He just wanted to feel you close, to savor this rare peace.

"I love you, more than my own life," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You leaned back slightly, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you smacked his chest playfully. "Don't say that," you protested. "It’s bad luck."

He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. Instead, his arm tightened around you, pulling you even closer, his breath fanning across your neck. A quiet sigh escaped his lips, and he spoke again, this time softer, as though surrendering to his own feelings. "I love you… more than my own life."

You bit your lip, the weight of his words pressing against your heart. "It’s not something you should say," you whispered. "Saying you value someone over your own life is a serious thing."

He nodded, a hint of seriousness creeping into his eyes. Gently, he turned your chin so that your gazes met. His blue eyes locked onto yours, and for a long moment, neither of you moved. "I know," he said, his voice low, "and I mean it."

His hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing under your eye, tracing the outline of your cheek. "I mean it," he repeated, his gaze unwavering. "I would rather die a thousand deaths than live without you."

His words struck you, not with fear but with the deepest affection you had ever known. A small tremor passed through you as you tried to find something to say, something to counteract the weight of his promise. "You shouldn’t say that, Anakin," you whispered, shaking your head. "It’s wrong on so many levels."

He nodded again, knowing the truth of your words but unable to keep from speaking them. His thumb slid gently over your lips, as if tracing the very words he had just spoken. He leaned in, his voice a whisper now, close enough that his breath brushed your skin. "I know. But I’m being honest. I do love you more than my own life."

A soft sigh escaped you, and you closed your eyes, the tenderness of the moment overwhelming you. "Did you come here to recite poetry, Lord Skywalker ?" you asked playfully, a smile tugging at your lips.

He chuckled, his fingers brushing along your cheek and jaw, moving with the ease of someone who knew you better than anyone else. "No," he replied with a smirk, his voice playful yet sincere. "I didn’t come for poetry." He held your chin gently, looking deep into your eyes, his thumb caressing your lips once more. "I came back to see you," he murmured, his voice softening. "I wanted to see my wife after hours apart."

You smiled, a warmth spreading through you at the thought. "Isn’t that worth a little poem from you?" you teased, raising an eyebrow.

He grinned, his smile broadening as he kissed your forehead. His fingers lingered on your waist before he pulled you closer, his hands soft on your skin. "A poem for my wife ?" he repeated, his voice playful. "Hmm, I’ll have to think about what to write." He acted as though deep in thought, then looked at you with a smirk that made your heart race.

"I hum softly to your beauty, love, and grace," he began, his voice taking on a tender note. "I will search for your heart, if you take it elsewhеre. Even if in your dances, othеrs fill your hours. I will search for your soul, in the cold, in the flames. I will cast magic spells at you, for you to love me forever."

The words hung in the air, like a promise, like a vow. He kissed the tip of your nose, and you closed your eyes, feeling the depth of his feelings wrap around you.

"You got me used to better, Lord Skywalker," you said softly, the words tinged with amusement.

He chuckled, shaking his head. His thumb moved to your lips once more, brushing them softly. "You are my better," he said with quiet confidence, his voice low and tender. "Don’t doubt that for a second. I am a better man around you. I’m softer, gentler... and I like being gentle with you."

His words warmed your heart, and as his thumb gently traced the outline of your lips, you couldn’t help but smile. "Am I worth your poetry then?" you asked, a teasing tone in your voice.

He smiled, his eyes gleaming with affection. "You are worth more than that," he said, his voice serious now. "I could write a whole damn book full of poetry about you. Every single page would be filled with words about the love I feel for you... and it still wouldn’t be enough to express it all."

You laughed softly, your heart swelling with the love he poured into you. "Did you write that in your little poetry notebook ?" you teased, giving him a playful smile.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "No," he replied, his voice warm and full of affection. "I said it from memory... for how many times I’ve thought about it, for how many times I’ve said it to myself."

His hand slipped from your lips, and he kissed your forehead once more. "For how many times I’ve wanted to write it down," he whispered, his words lingering in the air between you.

He pulled you into a gentle hug, his arms surrounding you as he pressed his chin to your head. And in that moment, you knew, without a doubt, that the love you shared was something beyond anything you had ever dreamed.

Three Weeks Later

The grand ballroom shimmered in the soft light of hundreds of candles, their flames flickering like little stars suspended in time. The rich, velvet tapestries that adorned the walls caught the light, painting the room in hues of deep red and gold. The melodies of a string quartet filled the air, gentle but with an underlying tension that seemed to hum just beneath the surface. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration, a grand ball thrown in honor of the child you carried for now three months, a moment of joy in a world shadowed by war and betrayal.

Anakin, looking every bit the warrior he was, stood at your side as the evening unfolded. His gaze, though warm when it met yours, seemed to flicker with something else—a restlessness that had become more pronounced in recent weeks. His hand, ever so gentle on your waist, was the only anchor you felt in the sea of polite chatter and forced smiles. But even his touch could not mask the distance that had been growing between you both. Anakin was a man of action, of purpose, and the palace's ornate dances—both literal and political—had never been kind to him.

The music played on as Anakin stepped away from you with an apologetic look, his lips curling into a half smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Please enjoy yourself, my rose," he murmured, the words laced with affection but also an unspoken understanding. He had to leave you—duty called. As the host, it was his responsibility to oversee the evening, but it was more than that. Anakin had his eyes on a different prize tonight: the King.

You watched him slip away, his figure becoming a blur in the crowd of dancers and courtiers. He moved with purpose, his sharp gaze scanning the room as he made his way to the King. Your heart sank just slightly, not from jealousy, but from the ache of knowing what awaited him in the King's chambers. Another attempt to open the monarch’s eyes to the treachery festering within his own court. You knew he would fail again, just as he always did. The King, blinded by his pride and political games, refused to acknowledge the threat that lurked at their doorstep.

You had no intention of following him, not tonight. Instead, you sought refuge in the dimmer corners of the ballroom. But even as you tried to lose yourself in the music and the laughter of the nobility, your mind kept drifting back to him.

The King’s chambers were draped in opulence, a grand, imposing space filled with the weight of centuries of power. Rich velvet curtains hung over tall windows that overlooked the expansive gardens, their vibrant colors muted in the late afternoon light. The room smelled faintly of incense and old parchment, a blend of history and authority that had long been unchallenged. And yet, in the midst of it all, Anakin felt a weight heavier than the gold on the walls, a suffocating pressure that was more than the King's physical presence—it was the weight of his ignorance.

King Edward sat at the head of an immense wooden table, his posture regal, but his eyes were distant, unfocused, as though he were far from the matters at hand. A goblet of wine sat before him, untouched, a symbol of his disinterest in the serious matters his kingdom faced. His advisors, those loyal sycophants who hovered like vultures, waited in silence for their King to speak, but it was clear they, too, were tired of this endless charade.

Anakin stepped forward, his boots scraping against the cold stone floor, breaking the silence with the weight of his own presence. His heart thudded in his chest—not from fear, but from the anger that simmered beneath his skin. He had seen enough, heard enough, and he was ready to lay it all bare.

“Your Majesty,” Anakin began, his voice a low, controlled growl that betrayed the tension in his body. “The French are preparing to strike. Their treachery has already begun. If we do not act now, the bloodshed will be on our hands. My sources—”

King Edward raised a hand lazily, his fingers brushing the surface of his goblet, the motion more dismissive than anything else. “General, please.” His voice was smooth, like silk slipping over stone, but it held none of the urgency or gravitas that the situation demanded. “I do not need to hear your reports of spies and rumors. I have dealt with these matters before.”

Anakin clenched his jaw, the need to maintain his composure burning inside him like a wildfire. He was no fool. He knew the King’s mind, and it was as stubborn and inflexible as the walls of the castle itself. But even so, he pressed on, his words a sharpened weapon.

“The reports are not rumors,” he insisted, his gaze steady and unflinching. “I have seen their movements myself. The French are gathering forces. They have spies within our borders, and I have witnessed their military preparations. This is not just a skirmish; this is the beginning of something far worse. We cannot wait any longer. War is coming, and we must be ready.”

The King’s eyes flickered, but he did not rise from his chair. He took a languid sip from his goblet, his gaze never leaving Anakin. “War, you say? And who exactly are we supposed to declare war on? The French nobility? The King of France himself? No, Skywalker. I will not throw this kingdom into chaos over the whispers of an unsettled general.”

Anakin’s hands balled into fists at his sides. His pulse quickened, blood rushing to his head, but he held back the fury that was threatening to explode. “The French have made their intentions clear. We cannot sit idle and hope this resolves itself. They will attack. If you do not act now, there will be no kingdom left to protect!”

King Edward set his goblet down slowly, his eyes narrowing, his voice dripping with condescension. “And what of my kingdom? What of the people I rule?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he studied Anakin. “Your zeal for battle is admirable, but you fail to see the bigger picture. I will not waste resources, time, and men on a war that is not yet upon us. You speak of French treachery, but what of our own treachery? What if this is nothing more than a product of your own paranoia?”

Anakin’s patience snapped.

“Paranoia?” he spat, his voice rising with a dangerous intensity. “I’ve fought on the frontlines, Your Majesty. I have bled for this kingdom, for you. You sit here, comfortable in your ivory tower, while the world around us burns. You think this is paranoia? These are facts, not delusions!”

The room seemed to hold its breath, the tension thickening with each passing second. The King’s face hardened, his eyes cold as they met Anakin’s. For a moment, it seemed as though the two men might tear at each other, their differences too vast to bridge.

“You forget your place, Anakin,” the King said, his tone low and dangerous, a warning that rang louder than any shouted command. “You are a soldier. You have no right to question me, to demand anything from me. You are my subject, nothing more.”

Anakin’s chest heaved with a deep, ragged breath. How humiliating the King was by calling him by his name. The truth of it hit him then—the King was not just blind to the truth; he was willfully blind, choosing to live in ignorance for the sake of his own comfort. Anakin could feel the weight of the crown’s power in the room, but it was not a weight that humbled the King. No, it was a weight that corrupted him, twisted him into something less than a leader and more like a petty tyrant.

“If you refuse to see reason,” Anakin said, his voice a low, dangerous promise, “then I will take this to the people. I will not sit back and watch while you put us all in danger.”

The King’s lips twisted into a humorless smile. “And what exactly do you think you’ll do, Anakin? You’ve no power here. You’re a soldier, nothing more. You may have been given a title, but you forget who holds the power in this kingdom.”

Anakin took a step forward, his gaze unwavering, his body tense with suppressed rage. “Then let me remind you, Your Majesty. I have the loyalty of your soldiers, the respect of the people. And when the time comes, it will not be your gold and your title that will protect you. It will be the strength of those who stand with what is right. And right now, that is not you.”

The room was still, deathly silent. The King’s eyes flared with anger, but he did not move. He simply looked at Anakin with the same cold detachment he had displayed all evening, as though this was all some game.

“You will regret this, General,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “Mark my words.”

Anakin’s lips tightened into a grim line. “Perhaps. But history will remember the truth, Your Majesty. And it will remember those who acted in the face of it.”

Without another word, he turned and walked out of the chamber, his footsteps echoing through the silence, the weight of the King’s indifference following him like a shadow.

Outside the chamber doors, Anakin’s heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with fury. He knew the King would never change. But he also knew that the battle was not over, not by a long shot. The kingdom was on the brink of destruction, and no matter how many times Anakin tried to warn him, the King would not listen until it was too late.

And by then, it would be Anakin’s job to pick up the pieces.

Hours passed, but no word came. The night seemed to drag on, each moment more strained than the last. Anakin had not returned, and you felt the weight of his absence in your chest. The idea of him facing the King, alone, with nothing but words to defend a kingdom, made your stomach twist. You knew he would be met with the same stone wall, his words unheard in the face of the King’s stubbornness.

And then, just as you began to wonder if perhaps you should find him, the doors to the ballroom burst open. Anakin stormed in, his jaw clenched, his expression fierce and unreadable. The room, once alive with conversation, fell silent at his entrance. All eyes turned to him, but none dared approach. He was a tempest contained in human form, his anger a palpable force that hung in the air. He moved toward you, not stopping to acknowledge the curious gazes or hushed whispers, his stride unyielding.

You were already rising from your seat, but before you could speak, he reached you, his hand gripping your arm tightly, as though needing to anchor himself to something—someone. His breath came in quick, shallow bursts, his chest heaving as though he had just been in a fight, though the only battle he’d faced had been with words.

“Anakin…” you murmured, your voice soft, laced with concern. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, a desperate attempt to reach him, to soothe the storm that raged inside him.

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, his gaze seemed to bore into yours, as if seeking comfort in the only place that still made sense to him. His free hand clenched into a fist, then released, only to repeat the process. Finally, he exhaled a shaky breath and spoke, his voice thick with anger.

“The King,” he spat, his words sharp as daggers. “He refuses to see reason. He will not declare war against the French, despite the clear treachery, despite the evidence that—” He broke off, shaking his head in disbelief. “He refuses to act, and all because he is more concerned with his own image, his own power, than the safety of his people!”

You reached out, touching his arm gently, a small, grounding gesture, but Anakin didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were wild, as though the weight of his failures had become too much to bear. His voice, usually so controlled, cracked under the strain of his frustration.

“Did you see him?” he demanded, his face flushed with the intensity of his emotions. “Did you see the way he dismissed my warnings? As though my words are nothing, as though the fate of this kingdom is nothing but a game to him. He can’t see beyond his own damn selfishness.”

You could feel his frustration building with each word, the heat of his anger radiating off him. And though your heart ached for him, you knew that there was little you could say to ease the pain of his disillusionment. The King’s refusal to act had cost him far more than political approval; it had cost him faith in the very system he had fought so hard to protect.

“Anakin…” You said his name again, this time with more force, as if to pull him out of his spiraling thoughts. “You did everything you could. You tried. But if he will not listen, if he will not see reason, then you cannot force him.”

He shook his head, his eyes dark with frustration. “And what of the people? What of our people? What of your people, my rose? Shall we sit idle while they are slaughtered in the streets?” His voice had softened on the last words, his gaze flickering down to where your hand rested on his arm.

You stood in silence for a moment, unsure of how to offer comfort when there was so little hope to offer. You had known the King’s stubbornness well enough to understand that his refusal to act wasn’t about ignorance—it was about fear. Fear of losing his power, fear of facing the consequences of his decisions. And now, that fear was condemning the very kingdom they had sworn to protect.

Anakin’s grip on your arm tightened for a moment, and then, just as quickly, it loosened. He exhaled a breath, his shoulders slumping slightly as though the weight of the evening had finally taken its toll on him. He looked up at you, his eyes darkened with exhaustion and a new kind of bitterness.

“Tonight was supposed to be about celebrating,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, a stark contrast to the fiery anger that had gripped him moments before. “And yet, all I feel is…betrayed.”

The word hung in the air between you, a silent acknowledgment of the emotional toll the night had taken on him. You felt the ache of his weariness, the deep-seated frustration that gnawed at him, and in that moment, you wanted nothing more than to take away his pain, to make it disappear.

You took a step closer to him, your hand reaching up to touch his cheek. He didn’t flinch, but his eyes closed briefly at your touch, as though your presence was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“It’ll be okay…you’re resourceful, General,” you said softly, your voice a promise, a balm to his wounded heart. “And I trust you.”

Anakin’s eyes flickered open, and for the first time that night, something softer seemed to stir within them. A silent gratitude, an unspoken understanding.

For a moment, it felt as though the weight of the world had lifted from his shoulders, if only just a little.

But even in that fleeting moment of peace, the reality remained unchanged. The King had made his decision, and Anakin’s fight was far from over.

From the Lays of General Anakin Skywalker, XIII century

A soldier’s loyalty, a leader’s pride,

Can only go so far before worlds collide.

The King’s blindness is his greatest chain,

As his strength breaks free from his reign.

Unknown POV, Unknown Day

In the dimly lit chamber of the King of France, the air was heavy, thick with the scent of wax and velvet, with shadows draping over the stone walls. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting dancing shapes across the floor, but it did nothing to warm the chill that had settled in the room. Count Aulbry stood before the King, his presence a calculated weight in the silence. His gaze was steady, unwavering as he watched the monarch, who sat slumped upon his throne, the weight of the world seemingly pressing upon his shoulders. The King had aged since Aulbry’s last visit, his once-proud stature now marked by the growing weight of doubt, fear, and the heavy responsibilities of a reign threatened on all sides.

“Your Majesty,” Aulbry’s voice sliced through the stillness, rich and low, his words curling like smoke around the King’s consciousness. He had long since learned the art of speaking in half-truths, a skill that would serve him well in the game he played.

King Phillip’s gaze was sharp, though his weariness showed in the slouch of his shoulders, the way his hand rested weakly upon the arm of the throne. He had not answered Aulbry’s greeting but instead regarded the count with a long, careful stare. Finally, the King spoke, his voice gravelly, tired.

“What is it you want, Aulbry?”

The Count smiled, a practiced, predatory smile that had served him well in his rise to power. He knew how to make men bend to him without them realizing it. “I want to offer you a solution, Majesty. A way to reclaim everything that is rightfully yours.”

Phillip’s eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping into his bones like a snake. “What are you speaking of?”

Aulbry stepped closer, his boots clicking softly against the stone floor. He lowered his voice, though there was no need—he knew the King was already listening intently. “The General. Anakin Skywalker. Your daughter’s husband.”

Phillip’s face twitched at the mention of Anakin’s name. There was a deep resentment in those eyes, something far darker than simple dislike. There was fear there too. Fear of losing control, fear of a man whose power seemed to grow by the day, a man whose strength was respected and feared not just by the French but by all who knew him. But it was also that power—Anakin’s influence—that was now the crux of their problem.

“You have a plan,” the King murmured, more to himself than to Aulbry.

“Indeed,” Aulbry said smoothly, his voice like silk wrapping around the King’s nerves. “A plan that will see you regain everything you’ve lost. You see, the news I bring will shake the very foundation of their alliance.” He paused for a moment, letting the tension in the room build like a storm. “The Princess is with child, Your Majesty. The General’s child.”

Phillip blinked, a flicker of surprise—then quickly replaced by anger—flashing across his features. He straightened in his chair, his hand tightening around the armrest. “A child? This changes nothing. The treaty is sealed. Their union is a farce.”

Aulbry stepped forward, speaking more urgently now. “It changes everything. This child—this heir—makes the union all the more permanent. It ties your daughter irrevocably to him, to the General. And that, Your Majesty, is what we can use to our advantage.”

Phillip’s brow furrowed, his lips pressing together in thought. “What are you suggesting?”

Aulbry’s eyes gleamed with a predator’s hunger. He knew the King was wavering, his thoughts clouded by emotion, fear, and frustration. Aulbry had dealt with such men before. He would break him down.

“You have a chance here, Your Majesty,” Aulbry said, lowering his voice, leaning in closer to the King. “Anakin Skywalker’s influence is growing, and it is no longer just a matter of politics. His presence, his marriage to your daughter—it’s a symbol of strength, of power. But it also presents an opportunity. A weakness.”

“A weakness?” the King repeated, his voice low, cautious.

Aulbry smiled, sensing his moment. “Yes. The child, your daughter’s pregnancy. That’s where we strike. You must act before the General grows too strong. You see, the General may have won his battles, but in this case, it is not his strength that matters. It is his heart. He is blinded by love for your daughter and for the child she carries. His loyalty is torn between family and duty, and the moment he becomes too distracted, too weak, we strike.”

Aulbry’s gaze hardened, his voice growing more deliberate. “The General would lay down his life for your daughter, and he would defend her child as fiercely as he would defend his men. You know this.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle before continuing. “But that is precisely why he will fall. His people love him. They would die for him. He has built something—something that will never be torn down by force alone.”

The King’s brow furrowed. “The General loyalty to his people…” he muttered under his breath. “His army is an extension of him. They would follow him to the ends of the earth. The Brits love their General, and he’s won their hearts with his courage.”

“Yes,” Aulbry said, almost quietly, as though speaking a dangerous truth. “His love for his people and their devotion to him are his strength. But it is also his vulnerability. He cannot bear the thought of failing them. And this is where we can strike.”

Aulbry took a step forward, his voice lowering to a near whisper, as though revealing a carefully guarded secret. “The Scots are not as united as they seem. There are traitors within their ranks, bought by the French crown. They have been undermining the Scottish leadership, feeding us information, causing strife in the ranks. It’s a delicate web we’ve spun, but one that will unravel when the time is right.”

Phillip sat silent for a long moment, staring into the flames. The weight of Aulbry’s words settled heavily in the room, thickening the air with dark possibility. Finally, he spoke, his voice a low murmur. “And what do you propose?”

“I propose that we take advantage of this moment, Your Majesty. Skywalker’s love for your daughter will blind him. His attachment will be his downfall. The General will fall, and you—will regain what is rightfully yours.”

The King’s expression hardened, and Aulbry knew he had him. The desperation, the fear of losing control, the relentless need for power—it was all too much to ignore. In that moment, the King could feel his grip on the throne loosening, slipping away like sand through his fingers. He needed to regain control. He needed to act.

Aulbry stepped back, letting the King absorb his words. “An ambush, Your Majesty. It is the only way.”

Phillip looked up at him, his face unreadable now. “How?”

Aulbry smiled, his voice soft and menacing. “You already have soldiers loyal to you, my King. You already have the means. We strike swiftly, decisively. The General won’t know what hit him.”

The King took a deep breath, his mind racing. The idea was seductive—simple, almost too easy. His daughter and her unborn child would be used as bait. The General’s love for her would make him vulnerable. And once Anakin was removed from the equation, the throne would be his again.

“Yes,” King Phillip said at last, the decision made. His voice was cold now, final. “We strike before the child is born. We do this quickly.”

Aulbry nodded, his face lit with a quiet triumph. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

And with that, the plans for betrayal were set in motion. What had begun as a carefully orchestrated plan to use a marriage for peace had now spiraled into a dark, dangerous game. A game in which the stakes were higher than ever, where loyalty was nothing more than a fleeting illusion, and where betrayal would come at the cost of blood, love, and a kingdom’s soul.

As Aulbry left the King’s chamber, the weight of the upcoming attack settled on him, the sense of impending danger thick in his chest. He had won for now, but he knew it was only the beginning. The General would not fall without a fight. And when the bloodshed began, it would be nothing short of catastrophic.

But for now, the stage was set. The King’s power would be restored, and the Princess’s happiness was a casualty in the war for control.

Extract from an anonymous letter, dated 1294.

…and word has reached us of a significant movement of troops from France—seven thousand men, marching swiftly under the cover of darkness, now shifting direction toward England. Their intentions remain veiled, yet their numbers and sudden reorientation suggest a calculated strike. It is clear that they have been set with the aim to disrupt the delicate balance of power in the Isles. We must act swiftly before the full strength of their forces can converge towards…

The morning sun filtered softly through the canopy of trees in the royal garden, casting dappled light across the ground. The air was warm with the scent of blooming roses and the fresh earth after an early morning rain. A gentle breeze whispered through the leaves, carrying with it the soft melodies of birds singing high above. It was a perfect day, a moment of quiet peace in a world that often felt too full of noise and chaos.

You sat on a weathered stone bench near a fountain, your eyes following the gentle ripples of water as it flowed over the carved stone. The garden, with its wild yet carefully tended beauty, seemed to encapsulate everything you had come to love about this place. It was calm, it was sacred, and it was your shared space. The air between you and Anakin was filled with a quiet, gentle happiness. The world felt still for the first time in so long, as if it was holding its breath in anticipation of something new—something beautiful.

Anakin, shirtless and with a focused look on his face, was kneeling beside a pile of smooth oak wood. The rhythmic sound of his carving echoed in the peaceful air as he worked meticulously on a crib, each stroke of the blade purposeful, each curve of the wood thoughtful. His broad, muscled back rippled with each movement, and his hair, damp with the summer heat, clung to his neck in soft tendrils.

You watched him with a soft smile, your heart swelling with a mix of love and wonder. He had never seemed more at peace than he did in this moment. It wasn’t the warrior, the general, the man who fought with all his might—this was the man who, despite the weight of the world on his shoulders, wanted to carve out a space of safety for the child you carried, for the family you were about to become.

His hands worked steadily, the delicate carving slowly coming to life beneath his touch. The sight of him so absorbed in the task, his brow furrowed in concentration, filled you with a quiet joy. You had often imagined this moment—life, love, and the promise of something new—yet it was better than you could have ever dreamed.

He paused for a moment, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Then, as if sensing your gaze, he turned his head and smiled at you, the smile that always made your heart skip a beat. His eyes, dark and stormy with the depth of his feelings, softened as he looked at you.

"How does it look so far?" he asked, his voice deep but tinged with a hint of something softer, something tender.

You rose from the bench and walked over to him, your hand resting lightly on your rounded belly, your gaze fixed on the crib he was shaping. The smooth wood, still rough around the edges, already had a certain elegance to it. It wasn’t finished, but it was something you could already imagine your child sleeping in—your child, his child, the child that would grow in your arms, with the love and strength of both of you surrounding them.

"It looks perfect," you said softly, kneeling beside him. "You’ve done something beautiful, Anakin."

He smiled again, the warmth of his expression making your chest tighten. "I want everything to be perfect for them. For you. For our future."

He set the carving tool down and leaned back, stretching his arms above his head before letting out a small, satisfied sigh. His gaze shifted from the crib to you, and there was a moment of quiet before he spoke again. This time, his voice was quieter, more reflective.

"I keep thinking about the future," he said, his eyes looking out at the distant horizon as though he were imagining a world beyond the war, beyond the bloodshed and the pain. "I dream of a world where we don’t have to fight anymore. A world where our child can grow up in peace. A world where the only thing that matters is love."

You met his gaze, your heart filling with a tenderness that you could hardly put into words. You hadn’t realized how much you had craved that same hope—that same dream of peace—until you heard him speak it aloud. It was a dream you hadn’t dared to let yourself believe in fully, but now, in this quiet moment, it felt possible. It felt within reach.

"I dream of that too," you whispered, reaching out to take his hand. His fingers laced through yours, the touch grounding you in the moment.

He squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing over your skin in a soothing, steady rhythm. "I’ll do whatever it takes to make that dream real. For you, for me, for our child. I’ll fight to the end to give us a world where peace is more than just a dream. I’ll carve it into being, just like I’m carving this crib."

You smiled softly, your fingers moving to rest over your heart. "And I’ll be here, with you, every step of the way."

Anakin leaned closer, his lips brushing your forehead in a soft kiss. You closed your eyes, savoring the warmth of his touch, the comfort of his love surrounding you. In that moment, nothing else mattered—just the two of you, together, preparing for the future you had yet to see, but were determined to create.

As he returned to his work, carving out the future with his hands, you found yourself lost in the beauty of the moment. The crib would be ready in time. Your love would grow in time. And despite everything—the danger, the uncertainty—you knew one thing for certain: together, you and Anakin would make a world worth living in, a world where love and peace would finally reign.

And the baby—your baby—would know nothing but that love.

The air around them stilled as a young servitor rushed toward them, breathless and pale. With a trembling voice, he delivered the news, “My lord... Sir Obi-Wan... he’s been found dead, just beyond the village. They say it was an ambush... he didn’t make it.”

From the Lays of General Anakin Skywalker, XIII century

I wonder if she’ll be like you, my love, A little girl with a soul from above. Her laughter a sound that fills the air, A reflection of you, so gentle, so fair.

I can feel her in dreams, though she’s not yet here, Her tiny hands, her voice so clear. Will she have your eyes, the warmth of your smile? I long to hold her, even if just for a while.

[bunnis-monsters]

Discord Drama below the cut. This is kind of me just making it clear that I want to be left alone.

Y’all understand y’all can leave my discord without making a statement that shows you have no idea what you’re talking about?

People can solve their OWN issues out in DMs, but when they’ve made people uncomfortable more than once, that becomes another issue. That’s when people get banned.

I do not want to talk about this anymore, I’ve blocked everyone that could be involved besides the ones I can’t find in intros.

Not going to mention who I’m talking about because it really doesn’t matter. The individuals don’t matter, I don’t think they’re bad people but they were banned because I GOT SEVERAL COMPLAINTS! Some from my own mods who didn’t feel comfortable after a certain incident occurred.

Here’s me talking about this to one of the people. I even SPECIFICALLY said that their partner/friend was not welcome back. The person DID come back and I banned both of them afterwards.

Sharing these screenshots to show I explicitly told them why the other person was banned and that they WEREN’T welcome back regardless.

Yeah they can apologize to each other and that’s good, but that doesn’t erase the discomfort they caused by doing that shit IN MY SERVER!

I hope everyone involved does well but leaves me alone. Before I got that message in vent I didn’t mind y’all still following or messaging me, but now I’m uncomfortable. Please, leave me alone. I do not want anything to do with any of you. I don’t hate you, but I’m also deeply uncomfortable with this situation.

The 10th rule btw

Anyways anons are off because this part of the vent message feels vaguely threatening. Idk if that’s intentional but it genuinely freaks me out(this message is cropped to remove any names, they basically just talk about the situation.)

But yeah I’ll be taking the server link down for a while. If you didn’t mean anything threatening then sorry but getting this message at 3 am is quite scary considering the harassment I’ve faced before for banning people. I just want to be left alone. I don’t deserve to feel afraid for banning people from a discord server.

Please think before you send messages like this, and leave me alone. I do not like having to make posts like these because I don’t hate any of you! I genuinely would have just moved on with my life if you wouldn’t have sent this message! You could have left the server without making me feel afraid, intentionally or not.

I’m also not here to go “WAHHH they’re threatening little ole me!”. I’m just pointing out that message was unnecessary and can be easily misinterpreted as threatening, and because you decided to send that message I have to lock down my discord as a precaution. I would rather be safe than sorry, and I would prefer to think that people in my community would not try to hurt me because I banned them, but it’s already happened before. 🤷‍♀️

I understand not always agreeing with the way I handle things, but I do it for my own safety and peace of mind. You don’t have to like it, but in a world where I receive nasty asks, comments, threatening dms, and all kinds of harassment just for existing, this keeps me safe.

With all that said, I genuinely wish y’all the best. Just because you were banned from my discord doesn’t mean I hate your guts. It’s a discord server, with rules and people that sometimes don’t get along with each other. It happens.

Sometimes we find each other annoying or get uncomfortable with the way that others act and that’s fine, because people are different. Each server, community, etc is different and have different rules, jokes, and ways of talking that sometimes go over other’s heads.

But finding someone annoying or not meshing with them doesn’t mean you dislike them as a person. Just because you break some rules in a server and get banned doesn’t mean I all of a sudden hate you. It just means you got banned.

What makes it bad is when you keep coming back and bringing it up after I already expressed that I was uncomfortable. That’s what makes me not want to continue interacting with you and what leads to me blocking people.

I don’t want to interact with any of you any further, leave me be. I’ll take any further interaction as harassment.

You don’t need to apologize, I am not angry, I am just tired. I have expressed a boundary and we are all adults. Leave me be and I’ll leave you be.

I’m going back to sleep. I’m sick, cramping, and exhausted. Send me some nice asks if you’d like, I’d appreciate it

[neetily]

hii! so glad to see one of my fav writers back and safe! can i request some soft somno with dom sebastian? tyy <3

this request is so old, i wonder if you still follow me hehe... thank you for waiting for me regardless, this was lovely to return back to writing with! thank you for your kindness <3 !

warnings: somnophilia, dubcon, thigh fucking wc: 2,146

It's not so unusual for him to be up so late at night. Beyond working well into the AM on his clients tedious projects, gaming with friends, and otherwise just existing online, he's usually the last to get into bed on any given night. Not that he minds that fact— part of him secretly loves knowing that at the end of a long and oftentimes stressful night, he's got you to consistently greet him under the sheets. And there's comfort in the mundane, he thinks. Though you may be asleep nine times outta ten, his cheeks always grow warm and his chest always tightens every single time without fail at the sight of you so peaceful, blissfully unaware of his presence as he quietly slips into bed to shuffle closer to you at the urging of his affections.

Moonlight flutters in through the barely drawn curtains, dancing across your snoozing form in such a pretty manner that he struggles with himself not to reach out and cover your cute little face in plentiful kisses. There won't be much moonlight left he imagines, huffing to himself as he checks the time on his phone with squinted eyes: 4:38am.

You'll be awake soon enough for the farm.

Which is fine, really! He knew what he was signing up for when he'd initially accepted your confession, and he'd be hard pressed to complain at the style of life you provide him. It's nice, if a bit taxing.

But oh, how he misses you dearly sometimes.

It's why he so strongly loves these quiet moments with you left unknowing. Hidden away in dream land for him to privately admire and adore upon you. You look so soft and sweet when under the sheets, all curled up and cosy without him. And the slight twinge of jealousy that pangs his full heart almost convinces him to tug the sheets away from your sleeping body to instead wrap himself around your frame— see how good he is at keeping you warm? How much better he is that that raggedy old blanket you refuse to replace?

And yet, he does nothing of the sort. Instead, merely admiring from afar with a dumb puppy smile upon his lips. Eagerly in love with you, consistently desperate to show and spill and sing and shout it at every opportunity he gets.

Even when you're fast asleep and lightly snoring beside him, he still finds you oh so adorable— cute puffy little cheeks, cute messy little bed head.

And as he lays side by side with you, he still misses you. Tenderly, like how a dog waits for its owner to get home. Metaphorical tail wagging behind him at the recognition of just how much he simply loves you. Enough to leave him wanting. A deep burning yearn in his chest at the sight of you laying there so sweetly, so pliantly. Without a single care in the world because you're knocked out cold from a hard days graft on the farm.

... He'd be a fool not to take advantage of that, right?

There have been prior talks of consent regarding his filthy thoughts, though the twitch in his pants could really care less in the moment, he's emboldened to know that you have no qualms with the way he feels tonight. Because he wouldn't want to hurt you, not ever. Including when you're passed out and when he could so easily do so, y'know? He appreciates all the trust you put in him more than anything.

So trust that he'll make you feel good tonight in your dreams too, okay?

It's a selfish thought at the root, though. A need to display his lewd affections for you in secrecy— because it's always hotter in private, right? Like his own little secret; not even shared with you! Tenting in his underwear at the simple thought of taking you unknowingly alone, indulging in his own perversions with the giddy excitement of a dirty virgin.

It doesn't help that you're literally what his wet dreams are made of too.

And it's so easy to convince himself to tug his boxers down. Took no convincing at all really, given the way you sleepily huff and sigh for him, like you can feel his weight on the sheets so close to you; and he hopes you're dreaming of him. Wanting him just as badly too, needy little thing just wants to feel good in her sleep, right? Needs him to look after you, and that's why you're currently crooning for him without realising, right?

Well, far be it for him to ignore his womans cries, thinking with his cock as a pearly bead of precum drips down his tip as if attempting to coax him closer. Not that he needed much convincing in the first place, nervously chewing down on his bottom lip to concentrate just long enough to slide his way closer to your sleeping body—because it's difficult to move fully with his boxers resting at his ankles like shackles—wiggling himself all the way until his tip brushes just gently against your exposed tummy (he briefly thanks the Gods for allowing your top to ride up a little, and for the fact that you're naked below the belt) and he chokes on a moan in response. Swallows it whole in fear of waking you, because while he just loves playing with you when you're awake absolutely, he can't deny the specific sweet edge that toying with the hem of your top when you're none the wiser provides him. Like he's doing something bad, acting out with consent. But the play pretend is enough to leave him more than a little breathless before you, taking shallow breaths so as to not disturb your peace too much, and so that he may selfishly enjoy the look of utter content upon your pretty face as he angles his cock down with a thumb at the base of it, only to gently smear the fat beads of precum you've thus far coaxed out of him against your soft and squishy thighs.

It's just all so exciting. Getting to crawl into bed when the whole town is likely fast asleep; well, perhaps except for Sam, he was just gaming with him moments prior. Shuffling as close as possible to the love of his life in the early hours of the morning, where no one excepts much of anything from him, let alone this. Letting a shaky breath escape him at the shiver that rolls down his spine when he allows his hips to roll against you impatiently... Just a little, like a small tease for himself. But fuck, if you aren't the prettiest thing in the world to him right now... And God, he's missed you so much as of late— been too busy with work himself, and he knows you to be the same.

So you can hardly blame him for getting so excited over relatively nothing tonight, right? Gripping at the base of his cock with his whole fist now as a way to try and release some of the built up tension he's grown in his balls after a few days of not cumming— he wanted to save it for you, y'know? And he's so ready for you tonight, shuddering under the sheets with barely contained excitement to dote on you in the privacy of your dreams.

"Are you asleep?" He whispers at you, suddenly worried with his cock throbbing in his fist that you might, in fact, just be pretending to sleep. And he'd be stuck with the embarrassment of acting like a pervert in front of you in the meantime... Though thankfully, you fail to respond with anything other than a silent sigh. Lips parted just slightly as if to tempt him some more, and oh, he'd love to give you so many kisses right now... Pepper compliments against your lips with smiles and sweet words, praise you for being such a good and obedient little girl in your sleep for him.

But he's lifting your thigh up instead in utter need for you. So fraught with it that he allows his nails to squeeze into the fat of them just a little, selfishly enjoying the meagre wobble in your lips at his small action. And he's so greedy with his touch, just a tad possessive as he juts hit hips forward to let his precum coated tip glide against your lower inner thigh before gently dropping the leg he's lifted mid-air back down into it's original position and— yeah, fuck, that's it—

So soft and tight between your legs, nice and padded and squishy for him to pulse against— and he can almost pretend that it's your cunt given how close his cock is in proximity to it. Riding up against your slit for him to drool precum against. Get you all nice and wet enough with the smallest of humps; and, he's also still a little scared about waking you up. Caught with his pants down, literally. God, could you imagine? Huffing right in front of you, biting his tongue to hold back the moans that want so bad to spill for you, cock tightly lodged between your cushy thighs and— fuck, the absolute state of him right now. So completely whipped for you that all he needs is the simple thought of you to get off, let alone to be currently humping his fat cock between your thighs with more confidence with every stroke, finding it increasingly difficult to withhold his lungs given just how much his tip spills for you. Resulting in such a sweet squelch as he leaves your inner thighs all messy and slicked up; which is perfect for him. Makes it soooo much easier to glide his cock against you, incidentally rocking his cock further against your by now sopping slit with every greedy hump and God. It feels so fucking good to be using you like this.

Like a little toy, tailor made for his own personal and selfish use. Creeping around at night to wait for you to pass out before wagging his cock against you like a bitch in heat. Ah, but he just can't get over himself. Too lost in how nice it feels to faux fuck you in your sleep, debasing your purity one hump against you at a time as he plants and shaky hand on your hip to rock you ever so gently back against his thrusts. As if you were actually reciprocating, but knowing that you aren't is what's hot to him. Being able to manhandle you into inadvertently fucking back against him just to selfishly improve the stimulation he oh so desperately needs so late at night, is hot. Turns him on more than anything to know that you haven't the faintest clue as to how he's touching you, loving you, and needing you right now. So caught by how smitten he is with you that he doesn't realise just how close he is from the minimal amount of petting he's endured until his hips instinctively pick up the pace on their own. Seeking a quick end to the pent up release he's reserved for you, and fuck he's just so close to you now, tugging and pulling on your soft skin while he fucks himself silly between the fat of your thighs, which are unfairly tight with the weight of sleep deep in your body, and yeah, God, right there—

All he can think to himself is that he's happy that you're still fast asleep as he cums embarrassingly fast, no doubt due to holding off for you for just a couple days. Either that, or you're convincingly faking it; he doesn't mind either way. Too busy focusing on how fucking good it feels to be shooting fat ropes between your thighs, milking himself empty in the cool air of the night without a single witness to gaze upon his misdeeds

Good, as it should be.

Just him, lazily humping the remainder of seed from his cum coated cock to let it drip down the back of your legs and onto your sheets in a sheer puddle, he's sure. Just him, and his prettily sleeping girl, who still yet adorns the most innocent of expressions after his lewd display of affection tonight. Just him, letting his cock slip free from your sleepy grip as he starts to soften and can finally relax with a heavy sigh escaping his burning lugs— too many moans held too close to his heart.

And he should really think about cleaning you up right about now, but... There's just something so enticing about leaving you with a sticky mess for the morning, y'know? Like his own perverted version of a surprise.

He's hopeful to wake up to his own when he eventually awakens in the afternoon.

[jjsloverre]

my safe space -c.s

pairing: dealer!chris x sweetheart!reader

summary: chris takes a dangerous job and didn’t want sweetheart!reader to come so she wouldn’t get hurt, but her stubbornness causes the whole night to take a turn.

warnings: cursing, angst, mentions of fighting, mentions of blood, mentions of drugs

a/n: this idea has been in my mind this whole day and i just HAD to write it idk🌸

________________________________________

it was one of those nights, chris received a frantic phone call from one of his friends.

“bro we need you here! shits getting heavy and this dude wants your weed!”

chris was upset but didn’t want to wake his sleeping girlfriend, he grabbed his gun and his keys trying to walk out of the door but you caught him before he could go.

“chris? why do you have your gun? it’s 2:17, lay back down”

“wish i could sweetheart.. don’t wait up for me, i got something to handle.”

“okay… let me come then and i am not taking no for an answer. with that, she got something to wear, preferably some sweatpants and chris’ “fresh love” hoodie.

he sighed at her, but understood that she wasn’t gonna drop it. “can you get that weed off the table baby?” he asked.

she complied, grabbing his bag of weed and his rellos, and handed it to him. “damn i wanna roll up… fuck it they don’t gotta know i smoked it!”

“are you alright to drive chris?”

“yea i am, don’t worry”

chris rolls up a blunt and smokes it as they drive, you knew one thing about drug dealers because your own boyfriend is a drug dealer.

chris used to say this one thing you’ll always remember: “one thing you don’t do is mess with their money or weed.”

and chris was doing just that. messing with their weed and possibly their money.

“feelin ok baby? ima keep you safe ok? i’ll even stay in the car while i take this deal, i’m just sellin a few things and then we can go yeah?”

“yeah..”

once they finally reach the abandoned warehouse, chris informs his friends that he’d do the deal from his car since you were in the car. you wish he’d hadn’t done that.

“do you want something to eat princess? hold on i got your favorite snacks back here.”

he opens your favorite chips for you, while he sells the rest of the weed.

“why’d you smoke their stuff? i thought you said that’s dangerous..”

“i know baby i’ll be alright, they won’t know.. now how about i take your mind off of that for a lil bit..” he leans in, and gives you soft kisses all over your face.

just as you were giving him kisses back, a tall buff man was banging on the passenger window and startled the both of us.

“the fuck man? my girls in the car!”

the man swung the door open, nearly pulling you out the car. chris pulls his gun out, a clear warning to leave his girlfriend alone.

“you played with my weed sturniolo.”

“fuck…” your handsome boyfriend muttered. he gives you a quick kiss and exits the vehicle.

“c-chris.. no what are you doing? where are you going?” you frantically yelled.

“just give me ten minutes ok? don’t call the police or nothing just.. eat something and listen to music, i love you.”

“i-i love you too but don’t go please!”

“i’ll be fast as i can ok? ten minutes pretty girl”

once he leaves, he talks to the man, before you knew it, the man was beating chris senseless to the point he just got up and left.

you screamed, rushing out the car to see your boyfriend loosing tons of blood. you tried to stop his bleeding as much as you could, begging him to stay with you.

“chris… baby stay with me okay? please… i got you, just.. stay with me and i’ll get you to a hospital!”

he shook his head. “fuck baby i love you..” then, the whole world shook around you. chris finally revealed where the blood was really coming from. the gunshot wound on his chest, gushing blood.

“no chris.. please.. i need you.”

“i’ll try, best i can do mama, i love you”

with that, you grabbed your phone and dialed 911 as fast as you could.

“p-please help! my boyfriend… he’s been shot!”

you give the dispatcher your address, chris looks up at you one more time. “you’re my safe spot, my girl forever.”

with that he went unconscious, he was breathing but barely. what felt like an eternity, the ambulance finally shows up and takes your boyfriend into their care, you follow them to the hospital, praying your boyfriend will be okay.

________________________________________

-should i do a part two?

taglist: @sturniologirlzz @forgottxen

[theonlymanny]

Batfamily x batdad

Hey ya missed me

Warnings: mentions of human sexual interaction why did I typed it like that? I’m getting sleep deprived…

—————————————

Since kids you and Bruce became inseparable. Always by each other’s side. When Bruce’s parents died you helped him and Alfred, it was more than tough for them it was like that for a couple of years. It was before he left for his training that Bruce told you his feeling for you. You were so happy to hear Bruce saying he liked you. “Well… Bruce I also feel strong feelings for you and if training will help you and everyone else I’ll wait-”

“Wow, wow, wow Hold on!” Dick stopped talking after he heard Jason scream out “I refuse to believe there weren’t any problems while both dad and Bruce were together” Dick smiled “well you see Dad and Bruce’s relationship is-” “wait what about the time that Ra’s tried to weaken dad and Bruce’s relationship by telling them how they hide their problems and won’t let anyone help because they were “childish” ” “not really you see-” “Bullshit! What really happened was-

“I don’t give a damn Bruce you act all knowing and strong when you still act like a child! You left me and Alfred alone for 10 whole years! And you still think you can just go around and fight criminals like you are some kind of superhero!? Fuck you man! I thought after 4 years of being together married it meant something to you, I meant something to you.” “M/n you just don’t understand! You don’t understand how hard it is to keep up with this all of this. Taking down criminals, faking a whole other personality I don’t even know what I am now! And now I have to keep up with you?”

“You signed for this after you married me you can’t just take responsibility on everything Bruce.” “If I don’t then who will? I can’t just stand there and let-I don’t know!” “I just wanted to have a normal life you know! I can’t stand how you lied to my face for 4 years maybe if you told me everything would’ve been fixed!” “You don’t-”

“I don’t what Bruce!? For crying every night after you leave bed?, when you are not in the morning to just eat breakfast? Or always when we have date nights you leave for “work. All affection I get from my husband is a single kiss at least once a week… I just want you Bruce is that too much to ask for?”

Bruce looked at the floor knowing he couldn’t stop what he already begun, he really wanted to help you. Kiss you, spend every day with you no matter what happens. , but he couldn’t stop.

“In sorry M/n, You signed for this after you married me, you should’ve expected it.”

Your eyes went wide as you saw the friend and lover you trusted with your heart go away without even a thought.

“That’s how it happened.” Everyone eyes went wide except Damian. Steph started crying. “Wait so they-they don’t love each other?” “No-no-no! I’m sure they love each other right?” While Cass tried calming Dick and Steph down she saw Jason mischievous grin and instantly knew what was going to happen. She covered Damian’s ears with her hands. “Wait what’s going on?”

“Oh they do love each other! So much that last week I heard dad screaming out “give it to me, oh it feels so good!” Dick screamed in horror while Steph just had a disgusted expression on her face. “ and then Bruce said “get pregnant, I’m going to give you a kid. That’s what you get for talking with that Boy Scout in blue too much!” Hahahahaha it was so funny don’t you think but of course they love each other don’t they?” “I think I’m going to throw up-” Steph said as she ran to the trash can near the bat computer. “NO I CANT GET IT OUT OF MY MIND!” Dick said as he started crying

Cass left Damian’s ears “wait what happened? What did Todd said? Richard!?” The Batmobile landed slowly and softly on the ground which meant nothing big really happened just some criminals here and there. “Oh! Hey guys-….. Oh my god what happened?” “Why is it so messy here and why are you all not asleep!” Bruce said as he saw Steph throwing up on a trash can, Dick screaming and crying in the floor, a confused and worried Damian, and a laughing Jason who looked like he was about to pee his pants. “Your dad and Alfred leave for 1 week and it’s already a mess in here!” Bruce said as he shook his head.

“What happened here?” Tim and Duke said almost in chorus. Cass you gave them an expression that clearly said you don’t want to know.

—————————————

Im tired…….

it’s Been so long since I’ve posted. I’m a little bit rusty also it’s 1 am. I really need to stop doing story’s at night. Anyway hope you all enjoyed this. Merry late Christmas and new years tho that’s my bad for being dumb.

Bye bye

[silent-grn-snake]

As he raised the glass to his lips, Giovanni paused, the rim just barely brushing his mouth. His hand trembled slightly, almost imperceptibly, but enough for him to notice. A pang of something unfamiliar...uncomfortable...settled in his chest. guilt. It wasn't a feeling he was accustomed to acknowledging, let alone grappling with. He pulled the glass away, setting it down on the desk with a soft clink, his expression carefully composed but his eyes betraying a flicker of unease.

"A-ah, well, Like I said...a guess. Nothing more. The higher-ups… well, they always play favorites, no? I think that's why we... uh, why we get a little extra padding in the budget for our productions."

He laughed softly, though it lacked his usual confidence and sas, more a nervous attempt to fill the silence.

"It’s not like I’m complaining, of course. It makes my job easier. But, ah, perhaps it’s not entirely fair, is it?"

he leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers against the armrest as if to distract himself from his own thoughts. His gaze darted briefly to Sawyer, studying him carefully before looking away, feigning casual indifference.

"you know,"

he started, a touch more solemn now,

"I’ve always found it interesting, how these little… decisions from above shape so much of what we do down here. Budgets, priorities, teams… who gets the spotlight, and who doesn’t."

He reached for the glass again, this time holding it without drinking, swirling the wine absently as he continued.

"It’s not about who deserves what. It never is. It’s just numbers on a ledger. A game of appearances, nothing more.

he cleared his throat. blinking as if he snapped back into reality

"But who am I to question it, eh? I’m just here to follow orders, keep the cameras rolling, and make everything look pretty. as long as the wine flows and the shows go on, who cares about the rest?"

Gio's gaze returned to Sawyer, his smile faint but tinged with something almost apologetic.

"Still, I suppose… it’s easy to forget there’s always someone left to deal with the scraps. And for what it’s worth... I hope it doesn’t feel like I’m stepping on your toes too much. Even if the higher-ups play favorites, it doesn’t mean we have to, sì?"

Sooooo...

Your radio may or may not have been tampered with recently. There's a possibility that it has by a certain somebody, but I just ain't a hundred percent sure, y'know?

Giovanni moved through his office. he'd done this routine a thousand times before anyways but it is getting close to a new year... He dusted his shelves with a practiced hand, carefully aligning each book and trinket to perfection. His desk was next, his sharp eyes catching the faintest speck of dirt he swiftly wiped away. But then, his hand hovered over the radio.

"Che disastro..."

he muttered, clicking his tongue in frustration. The damn thing was broken...cracked casing, no sound, utterly useless. He let out a sharp breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. 'How am I supposed to keep track of scott’s endless self-loathing or lime’s...whatever he's doing' he thought to himself

Turning, he glanced over his shoulder at the YLW Engineer lurking nearby, arching an unimpressed brow.

"Ah, well,"

he said, his voice dripping with mock sweetness,

"I could call Scott, but he’s probably busy crying into his tools. Or perhaps... you’d like to make yourself useful for once? hmm? Since you're standing there like a statue."

His tone sharpened, and he waved dismissively at the radio.

"Fix it. Or go back to whatever you were doing before I made the mistake of acknowledging your presence. Vai, muoviti. chop chop!"

[larapaulussen]

[ganondoodle]

some destiny (zelda comic) lore

i really have absolutely no problem with AUs, but in the case of my zelda comic i kinda dont like it being called that bc i made it specifically around the idea of offering an origin story to .. everything really that could be true and put the entire series in an entirely different light

like most things in the series around the creation of the world and the godesses etc are told to us, and i always ask questions when sth is just told to you especially in this black and white kind of way

idk if i ever talked about it, probably not bc its somewhat of a big reveal in the comic (though its at the very end) and given how slow i am thats years away so:

the three gods (gods as a neutral term here) exists outside the physical realm in a sort of void like darkness with an endless completely calm ocean they created the world we know as hyrules world, in fact they created two more, each of them filled with life, at some point choosing a mortal to kill and make into a deity as their right hand since the gods cant go into these worlds themselves

they want to enact the plan we see in skyward sword, they want a monster to invade the land, their chosen deity to seal it, die and be reincarnated and start the whole zelda cycle as we know it; why?maybe purely as entertainment, which is why each cycle is so widely different, they are gods and treating life and worlds like their little toys feels kinda right- and they really dont like when their toys act against them, thats not what toys are supposed to do after all

so, courage as i like to call them, was a deity they created using a mortal, but they failed to even make their mortals believe in them, instead they were seen as the monster, the gods lost their patience and drowned their world leaving only courage to survive, while they failed their orders and were hated, they still cared about their world, seeing it slowly drown and abandoned by the gods made them filled with despair, in an outburst they destroy the spring of the gods (an ancient spring that is the first to exist in a world when its created) and it opens up a gate into the realm of the gods, that dark calm ocean of nothing- they go into it and wander into the closest source of light and it brings them into demise's world

demise is the deity of his world, and when courage arrives there they start to attack it, filled with desperation and rage that their world was drowned while this one thrived- demise hasnt failed the gods yet, and he fights and seals away courage with easy, but it lets him doubt the gods words, courage was supposed to be some evil monster, yet they were similar to him and he defeated them so easily, why would he chose to die and be reincarnated as a mortal? he wanted to stay a deity and protect his world forever- he started to stall for time, halting the building of the temples for the hero in the future, and at some point courage broke out of its seal, nothing of it was like before it was a strange and now truly, a monster, and demise killed it to protect his lands, thus making the gods prophecy unable to be furfilled and so the gods abandon his world too, they let mortals turn against him as his world slowly dries out, until there is nothing left alive but him and ghirahim, trying to drive him to madness so he becomes the monster for the the next world in the row, but fail just barely- he too destroys the ancient spring and discovers the gate it creates

so demise travels to hylias world, and hylia, hesitates to seal him right away bc she notices he is not a mindless monster like she was told, despite the gods effort to raise her in isolation and make her into the perfect vassal, hylias curiousity is too much, so she lets demise live, over and over as they battle- which is the story of the comic, at the end they fall in love and uncover the gods plans, that demise was in the same position as hylia is, and he killed a deity jsut like them, that the reincarnation thing might be a lie to get rid of the biggest threat to the gods (the deities needed to be gotten rid of before they realized anything) and replace it with a more controllable mortal once the set up for the play was done, this too has been a cycle in the end the gods make sure this time it ends up how they want, more or less (im leaving out the details for now) and demise gets sealed and hylia dies, both of them taken by the gods but as both resisted them it is not perfect, demise still did not turn into the monster they needed so what you fight in skyward sword is an apparition of him, not him truly, and ghirahim knew he would never be himself again but his desperation and devotion made him try anyway only to end up playing right into the gods hands

and that is how the series started, a scheme of the gods to create their little play, inventing new little adversaries and eviil beings but short lived so easily to reinvent over and over, but its all based on lies, zelda isnt special, she was jsut a mortal that happened to be chosen by the gods to take the role she has now, shes no reincarnation of hylia, none of the things they tell you about hylia are true, its the gods lying to you, and the trio is stuck in this cycle not realizing they are merely being played with

(being sealed or dying as a deity send you to the realms of the gods, where they pin them down on a pillar like bugs (unconcious) and occasional borrow their magic for some tricks and schemes to play with in the world of hyrule, the deities are still there, and will be until the gods decide to kill them fully- and at the end of destiny as demise is take by them, in the last few moments before he is hung up like a trophy he not only sees that courage, who he thought he had fully killed, was already there, but in the darkness were countless remains of abandoned deities hanging dead on pillars, how many times have the gods done this before?)

(possibly not as interesting as i hope it is, but this is what im going for, and it only really works if the rest of the series exists just the same, otherwise the whole point of putting everything in this context would become kinda meaningless? at least thats how i feel about it so i dont like calling it an AU, but im not mad about it bc i guess if you take all the lore at face value it is completely different and doesnt work with canon at all? idk )

[blackknight-100]

I'm absolutely obsessed with how mythology portrays parent-child relationships, especially when at least one divine party is involved. I've talked about Karna and Arjuna's relationship with their fathers, and how it might tie up to their characters and situations, and the Mahabharata as a whole, but they're not the only ones! Speaking exclusively about father-son dynamics in this post, and we have a lot of them!

You have Yudhisthira, whose father Yama/Dharma shows up in his son's mortal life twice (iirc), gives him a 20 min quiz each time and then tells him that no son, we don't allow dogs in heaven (which, how dare, but we all have that one parent). This is so in line with Yudhisthira's arc, poor man that he is, having to spend his whole life finding answers to questions about righteousness and honour, losing his friends, brothers, wife and children in the process.

Rama-Dasharatha and Ganesha-Shiva are pretty straightforward - there's plenty of mutual love and respect despite the horrors ™️ , but then there is Rama and Luv-Kush. If you're counting the Uttar Kand, then these boys literally saw their mother die because there father could not stop questioning her honour. That has to mess with your head. There's no way it's a happily ever after story.

Another man who interests me greatly is Yayati. Like sir... what were you doing. Who grows old and thinks, "You know what would be great? Me borrowing my son's youth" and then curses them when they refuse? What were you thinking. What were your kids thinking. I need to take your heads apart with a scalpel, this is so incredibly insane. A father should give to his children - the only thing this man "gave" was to spare Puru from his curse.

You have Bhishma and Shantanu, another wild story. I understand that Bhishma chose to give up his birthright to make Shantanu happy, but can you actually tell me Shantanu wasn't at least somewhat interested in the plan? Shantanu is Bhishma's father, it's his job to stop him from doing things like this. I feel like pulling my hair out everytime I think of this. You can tell that Bhishma was afraid for his father's well-being when he made this decision, and that so... unfair.

On the other end of the spectrum are Krishna and Vasudeva, who are wholesome to the point of despair. Vasudeva giving up his everything just to get his boy out of prison?? Waiting years and years for him, but never lamenting or cursing Krishna for not coming fast enough??? That's peak fatherhood (Shantanu take lessons). And Krishna honours that sacrifice!! He comes from idyllic Vrindavan, slays the tormentor of his parents and rips the bars of their prison!!! And that old married couple trapped within those dank, dreary walls, with no one except the other for company, watches their godly son turn up to free them and show them the sky for the first time in more than a decade - the thought of it brings me to tears. Possibly the only part I like about the change from baby!Krishna to adult!Krishna is his reunion with Vasudeva and Devaki!

Oh, and last but not least, our favourite problematic pair: Jamadagni and sons. I'm slightly terrified by how Jamadagni was like "kill your mother for me she's sinful >:(" and when four sons refused, he actually killed them. HIS OWN SONS! Admittedly, in some versions he asks Parashuram to do the killing but like... those are his brothers. Who probably swaddled him and rocked him and fed him and played with him. And all this is presumably happening right in front of Renuka. And then Parashuram has to kill his mother as well, unless he wants to be a heap of ashes.

(In some versions, including the one I've always heard as a child, Parashuram is said to be "aware of" his father's immense power, which just seems to me a really polite way to say that Parashuram knew disobeying his father had consequences ™️ that weren't always right or rational)

Worse, after the killing is done, Jamadagni is so pleased he offers Parashuram a boon, presumably with the remains of the rest of his family still nearby, and when Parashuram asks for his mother and brother to be revived, Jamadagni is all like "ooh actually I got really angry, I think I'm going to renounce rage forever. Dw btw your brothers and mother forgot you killed them you're welcome <3"

Sir??? This is what you got out of the whole issue???? No wonder Parashuram killed a whole bunch of kings, this couldn't have been healthy.

[howcanisaveafallenangel]

the answer is, even if anyone notices, nobody cares. they never have. and. at this point i doubt they ever will.

but does anyone notice?

but does anyone care?

[puppppppppy]

who up seeing their disorder in a fictional character but feel like its not their place to put a name on it